Ounce of Color

Rangeen Samaddar, meet him suddenly after two decades in the market place the other day. Unlike his name his seemingly unconventional looks had nothing very impressive. The fearful look as if “can fail” anytime anywhere is so torturous but too nimble too be ignored. It was hard to be convinced that he could play with colors with an impact. Except for sign of general aging his face has not changed. I was certain that it was him. Flushing out years of disconnection I called him – “Rangeen …”


Rangeen looked back with a modest smile. We recapped from where we left till where we are. It takes so much to pull through years, move across boundaries, change addresses but just few minutes to share them all. Fundamentally we do very few things in life. Realized, that we can call ourselves neighbors once more. I could sniff a lost smell. Two Paramount bread toasts smeared with Amul butter and sugar crystals, a hardboiled poultry egg fine knifed in two parts and finally a full ripe banana all compressed in a stainless steel tiffin box – it has incomparable smell to act as appetizer for whole class room! It was Rangeen’s hallmark tiffin box. He was a typical playground friend of mine and most memories paused there. However a memory spring struck back.

- “Do you still draw?” I asked with zeal.

- “Draw…” quite unsure Rangeen politely navigated saying “Well my son is quite good in drawings.”

His seven years old son was busy picking colorful pistons for playful holi. Later he introduced himself as Rick - a very vibrant personality reflecting the confidence of his generation. I could faintly remember Rangeen’s shy looks even while receiving the award for the most colorful painting in the community club’s yearly drawing competition.

Today after a fulfilling lunch pulled out the oldest album. A few black and white photos …dusted the sticky transparent sheets and finally spotted the community club lawn midway through the old memories bundled together.

Every corner of the lawn had colorful memories of childhood. Our para (neibhourhood) club annually conducted a children’s drawing competition. Fortune favored once - won a consolation prize. The notice board of the club had the drawings displayed for two months. The hill, the river and a red cat sketched on the drawing sheet had uncontrolled pastel color overflowing the uneven contours. Amazing some patrons encouraged the silly colors to nourish joy of winning.

Wining is a lifestyle disease you want to live with and more so when you make it once.

Lady luck blessed Rangeen next year! Challenging all veterans, his color collage depicting a community playing holi, won the first prize. Undoubtedly the riot of colors was unparalleled. The painting had wonderful splash of camlin water colors and a few careful strokes of sketch pens.

With unqualified crayon painting my urge to participate in the annual competition henceforth disappeared. This resignation unknowingly got tagged with the splendid creation of Rangeen. It’s time to un-tag. Like it or unlike it, worst baggage of life is to feel heavy heart not because you lost but because someone won!