I have very few, but fond birthday memories in that pink room for the first couple of years before we trotted off to Delhi and lived in rented homes (where thankfully no one had an insight to paint the room pink for a prospective girl to stay in!) with off-white colours. It was only when I returned to my pink room did the troubles begin.
My classmates from school would come over for project discussions and what-not, and I would continually be embarrassed at the pinkness of the room. The boy classmates would be stunned to see anything that pink, and the girls probably thanked their parents silently for not being subjected to such a torture. I tried very hard to disguise the colour though. I went through a distract-people-from-room-colour-by-drawing-attention-to-bright-curtains phase, a cover-every-inch-of-visible-room-colour-with-animal-posters phase and finally when nothing worked, I bought myself a can of blue paint (oil paint actually, something I bothered reading only after splashing it around) and began to paint the room, my cupboard and a bookshelf.
The bookshelf and the cupboard were completed in time, but when it came to painting the room, the ADHD in me lost interest and that resulted in a huge square of blue in the middle of a very pink wall. It brought out the pink of the wall, really!
I finally gave up and convinced myself that pink is a fab colour to live with, and I should really focus of enhancing it rather than camouflaging it. (That was because my mother put her foot down refusing to let me try painting it another colour after the blue fiasco.)
Today, the room has finally changed colour. The house was being repainted, and my parents thoughtfully decided I should get my wish and have this room painted a different colour. They chose a beautiful orange cheesecake type colour and really, it looks very delectable. But it's no longer pink, and I actually miss that. I miss seeing my blatant attempts to hide it, those fading scotch tape marks that held my animal posters, that blob of blue (which incidentally took the painters a FULL day to scrape off the wall!), the growing up pictures, birthday poems, Topaz house flags, the loud curtains that tried to steal the limelight and the bed covers (which were also pink!).
Of course, I no longer live in that room, so I should technically not be bothered what colour it is/was, right? But the room represents my childhood, and I have memories related to every little scratch I have made in that pink room. It's now changed colour and matured, maybe so should I.
1 comment:
Nice description of that blob of blue :)
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