Anatomy of the starry night.
Vincent Van Gogh's famous painting, called the "Starry Night" was painted somewhat around in June 1889. It depicts a dreamy interpretation of the artist's asylum room's sweeping view of Saint-Rémy-de-Provence.
The central idea behind my piece was to create my own storyline out of the six major colours that stands out the most in this masterpiece. Each colour in my writeup carries it's own unique moment and is set on a different timeline.
1. emerald green : i had my favorite song on loop that morning when i first laid my eyes on her/ she was scribbling her heart out in that empty bench of our colony, under the laburnum/ my eyes immediately fell upon her green painted nails and the silver ring she wore on her thumb/ "do you think I'm so clumsy that i need someone to watch over me?", she speaks and looks at me/ " well, feel free to say hi" i grin back at her/ i never said her name aloud to anyone but i swear it tasted like popsicle kissed smiles on my tongue.
2. prussian blue : my name in her mouth melts like a dead poet's metaphor/comforting in its own way/ i remember her tiptoeing across the hardwood floors of bookstore, casting a soft smile upon the verses that caught her eyes/ i shove my hands deep inside my pockets and look down at my shoes trying hard not to melt in the moment/ the sunless august afternoon called for showers/ left alone in the middle of the rain, i can still picture the moment when she leaned against my shoulder as we watched the downpour outside/ our fingers intertwined a few moments later and there i was melting in every moment that followed; falling harder than the raindrops on the windowpane.
3. cobalt blue : i am a patchwork of grey skies/ upon another heartbeats, i am just a soft drizzle/ but when i hear the sound of her heart, a hurricane storms inside me/ and i happily embrace it/ i have memorised every bit of her and have crafted them as poems upon my skin/ the way she tucks her hair behind her ear, the way the sun melts in her deep brown eyes/ the way she concentrates on raindrops running down the windowpanes, the way she tilts her head while waving a goodbye/ unknowingly, she started to reside in my breaths and i, i started to look for the hurricanes she blessed me with.
4. zinc yellow : the summer songs are hard go unnoticed/ i run my fingers by the edge of the ceramic mug, slipping more into the silence/ happiness blooms in her voice as she says about the letter she received from her beloved this morning/ i breathe every moment in; memorising every bit of her/ her fingers trace down the alphabets and her lips curl up to a little smile/ the pink in her cheeks carried his name/ she holds his letter close to her chest and whispers something silently which ended with a smile/ my heart wept for a summer but i was drowning in my set of winters again.
5. yellow ochre : it has been seven summers, twenty eight poems and a handful of breakdowns ever since this town has felt her heartbeat/ i often find myself in places she blessed me with, trying to relieve every bit of her (or us)/ i smile at the same old bench at my old colony where i first met her, find myself tracing down raindrops from other side of the windowpane/ i unknowingly tilt my head now - in every hello and goodbye/ there is a pink tint in the sunset today and my mind here crawls back to the day she received that letter/ "so this is what nostalgia is supposed to feel" a familiar voice speaks up/ i turn back and there storms, my most eagerly awaited hurricane inside me.
6. burnt umber : the air carries a hint of agony today/ she tucks another stray strand of her hair behind her ear/ pale, slender fingers running along the edge of her silver jhumka making their way back to the soft fabric of her beige dupatta/ the sound of the ganga echoes in my ears as the sun leaves a crimson hue upon the river/ my gaze shifts to her wrists/ that old set of rusted bangles still holds the same promise/ she clasps her hands closer to her chest, leaving a painful sigh, or maybe a silent sob/ i follow her eyes and tell her we should go home/ she closes her eyes, refusing to stand, "i have spent 38 years of sunsets with him but today, this sunset felt like a thousand silent deaths. i don't think i can make it to home tonight."
