The Colours of Long Distance

Aanchal Sheth

Meeting my long distance love, is weeks of countdown.

Excitement.

Plans of what we’ll do.

 

Meanwhile time stretches itself. 

 

But the day finally arrives, and I embrace your warmth, your often comfort, the feeling of family and familiarity. 

It’s like listening to an old song whose lyrics you forgot were stored in a tiny closet of your head.

It’s like the flood of memories brought by a forgotten scent of perfume.

It’s like knowing the right direction, by nothing but the taste of the air.

I’m home.

 

But time, sadistic as it is, has already begun ticking.

I’m here now. And I will be leaving soon.

 

Yet, I try to make the most of it

I pause to appreciate your spirit, your values, the feeling that I have when I’m with you-

That everything is going to be okay. 

The feeling that I feel nowhere else.

 

But as I sit here 7738 miles. 

No. 

12453 kms away from you, I feel a pain in my chest. 

I don’t feel like it’s going to be okay.

 

What have they done to you?

 

How dare they draw lines between us?

How dare they make any of us feel like we cannot return home - to you?

How dare they tell you choose the colour for which your name is written in?

How could there ever be one answer?

 

India. 

 

When I think of you, I cannot think of a single colour that does you justice. 

You’re an explosion of tastes, opinions, celebrations, and faiths. 

 

Who gave them a choice between colours?