Banishing the Blues

Even though I consider myself special, and why shouldn’t I, I’ve realised that my coping mechanism to heartbreak is not much different from other normal human beings. Before all the oohs and aahs come out, put your popcorn bucket back people! It wasn’t the end of some cute puppy love relationship. It was just a falling out from my then “best friend” at the age of 15  and due to my love for exaggeration, I went quite deep in all that sad gloomy shit. Soon with it came the “desperate makeover” stage, you know the one which makes you believe that you need to turn your whole life around to alleviate the pain, and other stupid beliefs. I really wanted to change the colour of my hair, preferably jade green, all thanks to mother monster (aka. Lady Gaga) and her Born This Way era! And I was no less vocal about my desire, to this day I still want to change my hair colour, but tough luck! When you live in a place where even a single white hair causes an avalanche, imagine what would happen to a head full of emerald strands. My family too was not an easy front, the maximum makeover I was allowed to was a haircut, that too the one prescribed by the school, which I hated absolutely. While all this struggle was continuing, there was one thing that started to catch my eye. It was the growth of vibrant masculine southern regions, or to say coloured jeans (chinos to be exact!)  for men.  The place I belong to is quite behind on the trend or even to the winds of change. Brown and cream were newly accepted and established norms and then to think to wear something that pop coloured?  Might as well immolate yourself before they do. But still, I thought it would be much safer to fight for a temporary colour change rather than a more permanent one. So I started my campaign to get me some bright new chinos. The climb was not easy, especially when you don’t have any model to show off. The bubble of stigma needed to be popped. I needed that change, hoping it would get me out of the frame of mind which I was in. Finally, the day of judgment came, and that too in the city of the Supreme Court.

Enter Delhi, the land of acceptance of all sizes and designs. It is the place where people are seen roaming around malls even in shorts, unlike us small-town folk, who take hours to dress-up when going to places like mall or airports, fearing of looking an outcast or gasp! “middle-class”. As I walked down the aisle, my heart skipped a beat, My blood was rushing. I felt alive and never had I been more determined to buy something. I saw a stack of vibrantly coloured chinos, I approached with fear. The fear of rejection, which is common for fat people in clothing stores. Will this era of colour accept me? Or will my life be just the same blue and black it always was?  I checked the tag of a mint green chino, The size said 32, as I scoured down for sizes, I saw size 38 and I realised the shit just got real!

The man gave me 5 chinos to try on, the colour being, in order of increasing shock, brick red, deep purple, mint green, bright yellow and bubblegum pink. I went into the changing room and I started to try each one on, they all looked nice but I was second-guessing myself, at each point. The same thought crossed my mind. What if I don’t like it tomorrow? What would people think of me? What would my parents think of me? Will I be able to handle the ridicule that will be inevitable, especially if I chose pink or yellow? I was so confused but then I tried them all and just showed them one by one.

Deep in my heart, I liked each and every one of them, but yellow and especially pink were the ones where my knees went weak. It was something new, something dangerous and something which was just so good! But I was lacking confidence then ( all because of the stuff happened earlier), I compromised to myself and thought, “let’s just be sober, normal for this once. I don’t need a whole new scandal around me, let me act a bit grown-up”. All these words, I kept chanting those words and slapping a little smile on my face I walked out of the trial room and in it, I left 3 chinos and something I can’t seem to explain. I hollered to my mom and said to her, “It is red and purple for sure, let’s make our way to billing desk.”. While I was making my way to the billing desk, my inner voice spoke to me, it was saying” Wait! How come you did not choose any of those bright colours? Aren’t those the ones you like? Aren’t you the one who likes that drama in your clothing?” But oddly enough this was the first time my inner voice spoke to me in a different voice, somewhat similar to my mom but then, a little hollaback of my name made me realize, quite sheepishly that it actually was my mother who said it all to me. I replied,” Well yeah! but I dunno what others might think, it’s a bit too much”. To which she said” But you do like it? Right!”. “Yes, but then what about you guys, you might find it “not normal””, I replied.

She then said to me, the thing which still echoes in me today and is literally my fashion mantra.

She said.”  Since when you were the one to think of others? Since when you wanted to be normal and to blend in? And since when you doubted the clothes you chose, especially the ones that you are loving so much. Look the only thing that matters is that when you dress, be it anything, the confidence you have in that cloth and yourself is what will make the dress work, People will say things but that is what they do, and as far as going overboard is concerned, we are there to check that. Now go and bring those three too.” and with that final sentence she picked up a pitch-black shirt and dumped it in the cart, I guess that was sober she talked about.

Now I don’t know what is that women grow in them after motherhood, which gives them these instincts. Family is not the domain where I generally share most of my feelings, simply because I am not comfortable in it, but that day realised, I never have to, because they already know it, they already know me. With this the light of confidence shined upon me, I realised that this drama, shock and the scandal I create is what excites me. The idea of breaking normal and being a standout is what my comfort zone is. Setting trend and adding a pop of colours in a dull little world is what my calling is. I finally found the person I seem to have forgotten about. Now with all this energy pumped up, to be myself and to tilt the windmill, I rushed back to the room, picked everything I loved and I left and just never looked back.

Now I am a proud owner of 5 coloured chinos and keep slaying in them, get those heads turned,  make shockwaves as I move, and I cannot be more alive.