I frowned at the uniform lying on my bed, as if continuous staring would change the bland grey color into something worthwhile. I stole a glance at the clock and decided to put it on anyway if I were to win this race against time. Or in a less dramatic sense, not to be late on the first day of my new school. The reflection in the mirror froze me for a moment and made me wish in vain for the light blue of my former alma mater. Only in this dire moment did I realize, how homely and serene blue was. Not just the one I wore for twelve years of my school life, but all kinds of blue. The one that we find in the vastness of the sky, or even hidden in the depths of the ocean. From turquoise to navy, every shade there is; it's impressive how this color simultaneously catches our eye and yet let everything else stand out. A humble kind of beautiful, yes that's something I will ask for from everyone I meet today.
I found my mind wandering off further, wound up in this thread of thought as I looked out of the window of my school van on the way to school. Strange, had there always been this many colors? I was awestruck by this new discovery of beauty that had been here all along. All I had to do was shed off my self-imposed color blindness. The bright yet subtle sunlight after last night's unseasonal rain bathed everything in a golden glow. It struck me that if strength and warmth had a color, it would definitely be yellow. There is something extremely reassuring about it, like a half whispered promise that I'll definitely make my place in this new school. Along the way, my eyes trailed along the continuous outburst of greenery by the roadside, all remains of the last layer of dust lost with the sudden downpour. I felt something seep into me quietly, possibly life, because I had always acknowledged green to be so alive. Like an unprecedented shockwave of will power coursed through my veins and I just knew I'll do my best today. I sneaked a quiet glance at the people sitting beside me, in a subconscious search of more variance. I wasn't disappointed; there were bags and bottles of all shades. Purple in all it's sophistication, red with an unmatched vibrance, orange unique in itself and pink as just a reminder of all things pretty. Funny how even after being presented with the choice of the entire color palette, the school authority chose grey.The one shade that never made a difference, as dull and lifeless as it could be. But let's not get too judgmental about it.
The van stopped abruptly and I looked out to check if we've reached already; only to find one corner of the road blocked for construction. The driver slowly maneuvered the vehicle to the other side. My eyes fixated on the newly painted white sidewalk and the black color of the tar on the road; such an interesting contrast. Even these two shades made more sense to me, monotonous but radiant in their own rights. We could easily decipher the darkness and mystery hidden in black, the kind that draws us in. White, on the other hand claims purity, a wholeness in itself. As I was pondering over these thoughts, a drop of paint fell on the tar and blended together to form a mix, a somewhat gray one.
Oh, I see now. A middle ground, that's what it is. Gray isn't pretty or assuring or lively because that's not what it's supposed to be. There are others to play those roles. Gray is supposed to be real. When our flaws and merits merge together to create one soul, it's gray. Our color. Something that ties every one of us together, as a proud member of this flawed species called homo-sapiens. It's the color of the once white peace flag tainted with the black battle dust as we finally raise it at the end of a meaningless war. The black as a reminder of the trials we have all suffered, and the white in hope of a better tomorrow; two opposite colors embraced together to form one gray.
When I finally reached my new school, I was consumed with an overwhelming sense of hope and security. I knew I would find acceptance in this new place. The school uniform itself proclaimed so, after all it is gray.
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