My Humble Hostel Abode.

Bhadra 221, 2024.

You know how when we were around 6, if we closed our eyes tight enough, we'd become invisible? I think that's what this room gave me. It allowed me to disappear, to not be perceived, to erase myself temporarily.

I dont know about you, but sometimes, for me, life gets a little confusing. What to have expected. What to have not expected. What expectations led to what I didn't expect, and what I didn't expect leading to what didn't surprise me. Sometimes, I think there should be a manual or a cheat sheet. For what to say and what not to say. How to say and how not to say. What to feel and what not to feel.

But everything then still felt figure-out-able because I knew at the end of the day I could go to my room, lie on my back facing the fan, play music in the dark, and be invisible. And in these moments of invisibility, there was something about my room that made everything vivid and colourful. Even sadness. I wouldn't see just blue. I would see turquoise, I would see navy, I would see sea. And eventually when I found it in me to get up and go shower, when I paused the music and turned the lights on, I would see yellow. Not just yellow. I would see ochre, I would see lemon, I would see cadmium. Some days, I would see even newer yellows. And a lot of times, greens, because of the yellows painted on the blues.

If not for these moments, I think I'd just see blue and yellow. And an ugly brownish green that looks like a dirty stain. It's been a while since I graduated, but I still chase those moments from time to time. It helps me clean up the stains on my walls. Inch by inch. So my wall can one day be a lush mixture of olive, mint, teal, forest and sage and jade and apple and emerald and- Green.