Can Love come in different shades?

Through the corner of my eye, I saw him coming in a black suit with a shiny lapel. My eyes narrowed. He looked at the ‘ORANGE’ torch wide-eyed and stood there rooted for a while.
“How did it happen?” someone thundered
A flash back – a few years back it all started. It was the year when I joined my new school in a new city in eleventh standard. I played basketball for the state. I barely came to school, and made sure that I never ventured near classes. Ever.
A new environment was something that was not new to me. Moreover, one of my teammate studying here for a very long time. His name was Ritesh, a gifted ball-handler, and to watch him play was simply astounding. He always had my back. In the game and otherwise too.
The tradition in the new school was that we used to have sports day right at the very starting of the year. I was camping for most of the time and had to miss my events too. Finally, the announcements and preparations for sports day were up at full swing. Ritesh was one of the four torchbearers.
The evening before the sports day, we were playing ball at our local court. Floodlights hit the floor and game became a little serious. At a certain point, I was playing against Ritesh. With a devilish grin I tried the (in)famous killer crossover. And lo! It was indeed an ankle breaker. By the time I made the basket and turned, everyone was around him. He was hobbling across the court, it seemed to be a very severe ankle twist. That move usually caused injury to the opponent. Thinking I wouldn’t be able to pull it off and the game was played little seriously, something I never wished for just happened.
“John! That was awesome” he gleamed looking at me.
I knew he wouldn’t be able to make it tomorrow, I was mentally whacking myself for trying this out today especially. I escorted him to have his date with the medics. After a few more calls everything for tomorrow was finalized.
The sports day started with much pomp and show. The skies were overcast, and it was actually a dark morning. The drums started thumping, and soles started clamping. One event led to another and soon the torch was being lit. I was feeling really heavy.
Standing there in full kit I mostly saw many unknown faces bearing them. A few known faces including Ritesh were mere spectators. Suddenly, I found the orange flame in close proximity.
Someone knelt down and gave the torch looking up at me. I was star-struck. The orange flame made her face glow in the sombre morning. That light just didn’t stop there.
Through the corner of my eye, I saw Ritesh coming in a black suit with a shiny lapel. My eyes narrowed ‘as I held a wide smile’ . He looked at the ‘ORANGE’ torch wide-eyed ‘nostalagic’ and stood there rooted for a while, ‘chuckling to himself’.
“How did it happen?” someone thundered ‘with eagerness’
Even after ten years of a happy married life, she stirred those same emotions in me each time I look at her. I laughed as I recounted this incident to others.
A happy man with an Orange torch.

This is a fictional story written for CBC’s VIBGYOR challenge

To read more on VIBGYOR posts
V for Violet
I for Indigo
B for Brown
G for Green
Y for Yellow


The Yellow Books

Keys swung into the lock, and with a loud click disrupting the silence, the door swung open. I entered my apartment; it was the same way I left it in the morning. Coffee mug on the balcony, with the door wedged open; newspapers bundled in a corner; some cloths on the bed; a pitiable kitchen that was used for nothing but coffees, sandwiches and empty packets of frozen food covers.
Despite all the usual mayhem, another big brown cover was delivered before I left for work today. I had ripped open the top cover; it had a note, below which a stack of old books was seen. It was from mom, I tried reading it but soon my biological clock thundered, realizing that it was late, I dashed out leaving them as it was.
Now that I was back home after a long day of working on an editorial assignment, I felts much relaxed. tipping in some music, sipping a freshly brewed coffee from the counter; my curiosity was hitting new levels. The yellow book hidden beneath the torn cover got my attention. The note from mom read
‘Books from your Grandpa’s library. He wanted to you have them.
Love, Mom.’
After years of his demise, his library was finally opened. Intrigued, I tore open the wrappings. There were over ten books, battered and extensively used. The first of the pile was a yellow book. It read ‘Yoga Vasistam’. All those books were predominantly on philosophy and history.
“Grandpa! Read this” I handed out to him a page, I was around 17 years then.
He took it and read through. It was a poem titled, ‘Who amI?’
He read it and looked up and said, “This is not the right time”
I was disappointed. I took it and left with another word. I was a kid back then.
He was someone who rarely spoke and when he did speak, they had immense meaning and significance.

(Inwardly he was smiling, and he realized his books now got a reader, his thoughts could be heard)
My eyes were moist; I never had a chance to look at his library. It is indeed true that a person’s library spoke volumes about them. Had I known I would have had the most brilliant mentor, I thought with a sigh. Then I slowly picked each of them carefully, and browsed through the pages.
Each book contained a lot of marking and various symbols and some hasty calculations. Interestingly they had the exact same words at the exact same place in each book; they were hand-written, amazing calligraphy; and each of them was wrapped in the same yellow sheet. 
It read
*To my dearest Granddaughter Yantra, ‘Who am I?’ changed everything*
I picked them up and placed them in my own library, which strangely fit in instantly and completed the other collections.

(In-between all these memories and emotions, she missed the fact that they were in fact a  few clues hidden in between).


This is a fictional story written for CBC’s VIBGYOR challenge

To read more on VIBGYOR posts
V for Violet
I for Indigo
B for Brown
G for Green