Life has many sorts of colors. Like blue, the colour of the little uniform of the girl scurrying down the sun shine flooded road, yellow like the greasy vomit sprayed near the grubby, dusty and extremely dirty drunken madman lying down on the road. Then there is red, like the thin, from the behind hot and smart looking married woman. The red of her bangles, 'loha' and 'pola' and 'shakha', evident signs of a newly married that i longingly lusted at. Then there is the black of the night which engulfs all your worries, anxiety and deep desires too. There is ofcourse, purple, pink, orange, green the ever effervescent green - ma says it makes your vision better, also i distinctly remember my college years i used walk down the Dhakuria lake road, sometimes hand in hand with someone sometimes alone, how greens seemed enticing, warmed me up, and looked ever welcoming. Then there is ash or a colour very similar to it. The colour of the metal roads, bridges, handles in buses and the window sills. I was used to staring at them till i could look no more. During long bus trips, sometimes while sulking with a cigarette at home. Colours they mean so much to me yet i cannot draw very well. Does it ascertain something?