Anyways, this post will be another short story; that is, another entry for the monthly writing challenge Andrea hosts over at Spaceships, Vampires, and Very Secret Agents. I really do want to encourage everyone to participate in this, perhaps even in future installments of the challenge! It's a fun exercise to help writers (aspiring or otherwise) to get creative and keep those skills sharp ✨ You can check out this November's theme over here, and tell her that I sent you LOLOL. Take time to explore their blog as well, you won't regret it! Oh, and if you'd like to read my previous entries for this monthly writing challenge, check out blog posts in this site that have the SVMWC tag; I'd love to hear what you think!

Am I risking cultural appropriation? I don't know lol, but I did try to research about this so I hope I won't say anything too out of place (please do say if anything sounds factually incorrect though!). I tried to make a short story that depicts the different experiences of perception. Without further ado, I present to you, dear readers, my entry for this month's theme— color. Please enjoy.

The sun was poised up high above the deep blue sky. Warm rays of sunshine bounced off the delicate swathes of clouds scattered across the ultramarine expanse. The small Indian town was only starting to wake, yet shops remained closed as a small crowd started to gather in the town square.

In one of the little inns tucked between the streets of small town was a young woman, perhaps in her twenties. She was sitting on the floor of her lodging, both her arms and legs crossed; her brow was knit in evident frustration.

"What an idiot I am," she sighed. Strewn in front of the cross legged woman were her various belongings. A tripod leaned haphazardly on the edge of her purple suitcase, which looked like it was ransacked. Crumpled shirts lay in sad piles surrounding the woman, a laptop expertly balanced on the mounds of fabric with the rest of the things she had packed to shoot this year's Holi, the magnificent festival of colors.

Alas, one vital object was missing from this assemblage of goods— the camera itself. Her beautiful, swarthy Canon EOS 5D Mark IV was nowhere to be found; probably forgotten in a closet at home. "I'm such a scatterbrain. Of all things, I just had to leave the cam behind," the woman sighed, berating herself. Unfortunately there is not much for her to do in the absence of her photography implement, as she would be unable to do her job without a camera. "I'm already here though; it'd be a waste to not see Holi for myself," the woman said to herself. And so, she gets up and put on comfortable clothes, and went on her way.

It was only a few minutes past 7 AM, but the streets were already brimming with people and powders. Strangers patted yellow ochre dust on one another and wished for their good health. A pair of lovers dashed by, playfully chasing each other with vibrant crimson in their fists. The air was heavy with tinted mist. Holi was already well under way, but the woman was in no mood to partake in the kaleidoscopic festivities— not after finding out that she wouldn't be able to document it.

As the woman absentmindedly wandered the streets, a group of howling teenagers sprinted across her, letting loose a flurry of reds and blues that found its way onto her shirt. The woman had no time to react, and simply stood there on the curb, wide eyed.

"C'mon guys, wait up! You're too fast," a girl— perhaps the same age as those teens— yelled as she ran after them. Unfortunately, it seemed like this girl is not the most physically fit, as she placed her hands on her knees and was gasping for air. She looked up at the color-assaulted woman who was in shock. "Madame, are you alright there?"

The woman probed her apparel with gentle touches, but the red dye managed to stain her fingers nevertheless.

"You're shirt's going to be stained for a while," the teenage girl noted, shaking her head. "I do hope that that's a spare."

"Sadly, it isn't," the woman said in disdain. "But it's alright, really. I did go out today in order to observe the festivities, so getting the colors of Holi on me is to be expected," she laughs. "By any chance, are you a local? I'm a journalist for The Daily Mail, but due to unfortunate circumstances, taking photographs isn't possible for me right now. But it'd be a shame to return to Mumbai empty handed, so I'd really appreciate if you could show me around and give an interview?"

The girl nods and smiled. "Sure! I'd be glad to lend you a hand! May I ask what's this 'unfortunate circumstance' is about?"

"I, uh," the woman stammered, scratching her head. "I forgot to pack a camera before coming here."

Indra lifted a hand over her mouth, barely concealing a giggle. "Is that so? That's rsaeally unfortunate madame, but I'd be willing to act as a tour guide."

"Thank you," the woman smiled. "Let's talk as you show me around. May I know your name please?"

The teenager nodded. "My name is Indra. May I ask for yours as well?"

"You can call me Carmencita," the journalist woman smiled. "Indra is a wonderful name. From indradhanush, the Hindi for 'rainbow'. Quite fitting for this festival," she added with a chuckle.

"Thanks, but it's rather ironic," Indra laughed. "I ought to mention I'm colorblind, if that'll affect anything regarding the interview."

Carmencita shook her head reassuringly. "It's alright, I don't mind in the slightest."

"Well, I don't really know," Indra carefully said, rubbing her chin. "It's odd. I've been born with this handicap, so not being able to distinguish certain colors is my normal." A short silence ensued before she continued. "Although, people do talk about colors a lot, so I think I have a good grasp of how they feel at the very least."

Carmencita raised an eyebrow at the girl's response. "How colors feel? Now that's an interesting sentiment. Tell me about that."

Indra's gaze landed on another pair of lovers, walking side by side as they left a trail of crimson in their wake. "Hmm, those pair of lovers over there," she pointed. "Although I cannot see what color the powders on their skin is, I'm almost sure that it's red. Red feels like something passionate. It's the rage that blinds your eyes, the adrenaline in your veins. But at the same time, it seems like the color of a warm flush on someone's cheeks during a moment of joy and love. Red feels like the color of a confident woman's lipstick."

"Over there, those leaves," Indra continued, gesturing towards some trees. "I've at least had the knowledge of their usual colors as green, so I associate green with life. It's the smell of the earth and the sound of rustling leaves. It's lush and peaceful and all over, like the grass underfoot or the canopy of trees."

Carmencita briefly closes her eyes as she lets Indra's words weave tapestries in her mind, then opens them again. "Fascinating. When you put it that way, it sounds very lovely," she smiled. "You have a great way with words, Indra."

"Thanks you," she smiled. "I think color is a visceral thing; it's not just what's visible," she explained. "Perhaps that's why I think of colors the way I do."

"That's definitely a unique perspective."

"Is it though?" Indra mused. "Well, I guess the 'feel' of colors is not something people would usually think about. What about you though," she asked. "I'm curious as to how you perceive colors!"

Carmencita scratches her head. "It's not really that interesting," she said. "I guess I only rely on the visual clues to tell them apart. Reds are the colors of cherries and strawberries. Blues are skies. All very practical."

"Huh, well that's a bit dull I think," Indra remarked. "A life without any sort of whimsy; no offense madame, but it seems like that's how you see the world right now."

Carmencita laughs. "None taken. You may be speaking the truth there. I've been living life around the printing presses for years; all the black and white of journalism has sucked away my soul." The older woman slumped back onto the bench. "Now let me tell you something; in our profession, things are either true or not true. It's very clean cut. No nonsense," she described.

"To be frank, I think I've lost my passion," Carmencita continued. "It all feels stale and drab. I've been wanting and waiting to do something big, but," she trailed off and shrugged.

"Then I guess it's just right that you're here in time for Holi," Indra replied after a few moments of silence. "A festival of colors and spring. Just what a sleeping soul needs to wake up," she smiled.

"I suppose," the older woman affirmed. "Thank you Indra, that was enlightening. If you don't mind, I'd like to cut the interview short and end it here," Carmencita said as she got on her feet.

The teenager shook her head. "That's fine with me. Good luck with your article, madame."

"Perhaps I'll go experience the colors of Holi for myself. It was a pleasure meeting you Indra, goodbye," Carmencita beamed, waving goodbye as she traversed the path through the rainbow bathed park.

Anyways, this post will be another short story; that is, another entry for the monthly writing challenge Andrea hosts over at Spaceships, Vampires, and Very Secret Agents. I really do want to encourage everyone to participate in this, perhaps even in future installments of the challenge! It's a fun exercise to help writers (aspiring or otherwise) to get creative and keep those skills sharp ✨ You can check out this November's theme over here, and tell her that I sent you LOLOL. Take time to explore their blog as well, you won't regret it! Oh, and if you'd like to read my previous entries for this monthly writing challenge, check out blog posts in this site that have the SVMWC tag; I'd love to hear what you think!

Am I risking cultural appropriation? I don't know lol, but I did try to research about this so I hope I won't say anything too out of place (please do say if anything sounds factually incorrect though!). I tried to make a short story that depicts the different experiences of perception. Without further ado, I present to you, dear readers, my entry for this month's theme— color. Please enjoy.

The sun was poised up high above the deep blue sky. Warm rays of sunshine bounced off the delicate swathes of clouds scattered across the ultramarine expanse. The small Indian town was only starting to wake, yet shops remained closed as a small crowd started to gather in the town square.

In one of the little inns tucked between the streets of small town was a young woman, perhaps in her twenties. She was sitting on the floor of her lodging, both her arms and legs crossed; her brow was knit in evident frustration.

"What an idiot I am," she sighed. Strewn in front of the cross legged woman were her various belongings. A tripod leaned haphazardly on the edge of her purple suitcase, which looked like it was ransacked. Crumpled shirts lay in sad piles surrounding the woman, a laptop expertly balanced on the mounds of fabric with the rest of the things she had packed to shoot this year's Holi, the magnificent festival of colors.

Alas, one vital object was missing from this assemblage of goods— the camera itself. Her beautiful, swarthy Canon EOS 5D Mark IV was nowhere to be found; probably forgotten in a closet at home. "I'm such a scatterbrain. Of all things, I just had to leave the cam behind," the woman sighed, berating herself. Unfortunately there is not much for her to do in the absence of her photography implement, as she would be unable to do her job without a camera. "I'm already here though; it'd be a waste to not see Holi for myself," the woman said to herself. And so, she gets up and put on comfortable clothes, and went on her way.

It was only a few minutes past 7 AM, but the streets were already brimming with people and powders. Strangers patted yellow ochre dust on one another and wished for their good health. A pair of lovers dashed by, playfully chasing each other with vibrant crimson in their fists. The air was heavy with tinted mist. Holi was already well under way, but the woman was in no mood to partake in the kaleidoscopic festivities— not after finding out that she wouldn't be able to document it.

As the woman absentmindedly wandered the streets, a group of howling teenagers sprinted across her, letting loose a flurry of reds and blues that found its way onto her shirt. The woman had no time to react, and simply stood there on the curb, wide eyed.

"C'mon guys, wait up! You're too fast," a girl— perhaps the same age as those teens— yelled as she ran after them. Unfortunately, it seemed like this girl is not the most physically fit, as she placed her hands on her knees and was gasping for air. She looked up at the color-assaulted woman who was in shock. "Madame, are you alright there?"

The woman probed her apparel with gentle touches, but the red dye managed to stain her fingers nevertheless.

"You're shirt's going to be stained for a while," the teenage girl noted, shaking her head. "I do hope that that's a spare."

"Sadly, it isn't," the woman said in disdain. "But it's alright, really. I did go out today in order to observe the festivities, so getting the colors of Holi on me is to be expected," she laughs. "By any chance, are you a local? I'm a journalist for The Daily Mail, but due to unfortunate circumstances, taking photographs isn't possible for me right now. But it'd be a shame to return to Mumbai empty handed, so I'd really appreciate if you could show me around and give an interview?"

The girl nods and smiled. "Sure! I'd be glad to lend you a hand! May I ask what's this 'unfortunate circumstance' is about?"

"I, uh," the woman stammered, scratching her head. "I forgot to pack a camera before coming here."

Indra lifted a hand over her mouth, barely concealing a giggle. "Is that so? That's rsaeally unfortunate madame, but I'd be willing to act as a tour guide."

"Thank you," the woman smiled. "Let's talk as you show me around. May I know your name please?"

The teenager nodded. "My name is Indra. May I ask for yours as well?"

"You can call me Carmencita," the journalist woman smiled. "Indra is a wonderful name. From indradhanush, the Hindi for 'rainbow'. Quite fitting for this festival," she added with a chuckle.

"Thanks, but it's rather ironic," Indra laughed. "I ought to mention I'm colorblind, if that'll affect anything regarding the interview."

Carmencita shook her head reassuringly. "It's alright, I don't mind in the slightest."

"Well, I don't really know," Indra carefully said, rubbing her chin. "It's odd. I've been born with this handicap, so not being able to distinguish certain colors is my normal." A short silence ensued before she continued. "Although, people do talk about colors a lot, so I think I have a good grasp of how they feel at the very least."

Carmencita raised an eyebrow at the girl's response. "How colors feel? Now that's an interesting sentiment. Tell me about that."

Indra's gaze landed on another pair of lovers, walking side by side as they left a trail of crimson in their wake. "Hmm, those pair of lovers over there," she pointed. "Although I cannot see what color the powders on their skin is, I'm almost sure that it's red. Red feels like something passionate. It's the rage that blinds your eyes, the adrenaline in your veins. But at the same time, it seems like the color of a warm flush on someone's cheeks during a moment of joy and love. Red feels like the color of a confident woman's lipstick."

"Over there, those leaves," Indra continued, gesturing towards some trees. "I've at least had the knowledge of their usual colors as green, so I associate green with life. It's the smell of the earth and the sound of rustling leaves. It's lush and peaceful and all over, like the grass underfoot or the canopy of trees."

Carmencita briefly closes her eyes as she lets Indra's words weave tapestries in her mind, then opens them again. "Fascinating. When you put it that way, it sounds very lovely," she smiled. "You have a great way with words, Indra."

"Thanks you," she smiled. "I think color is a visceral thing; it's not just what's visible," she explained. "Perhaps that's why I think of colors the way I do."

"That's definitely a unique perspective."

"Is it though?" Indra mused. "Well, I guess the 'feel' of colors is not something people would usually think about. What about you though," she asked. "I'm curious as to how you perceive colors!"

Carmencita scratches her head. "It's not really that interesting," she said. "I guess I only rely on the visual clues to tell them apart. Reds are the colors of cherries and strawberries. Blues are skies. All very practical."

"Huh, well that's a bit dull I think," Indra remarked. "A life without any sort of whimsy; no offense madame, but it seems like that's how you see the world right now."

Carmencita laughs. "None taken. You may be speaking the truth there. I've been living life around the printing presses for years; all the black and white of journalism has sucked away my soul." The older woman slumped back onto the bench. "Now let me tell you something; in our profession, things are either true or not true. It's very clean cut. No nonsense," she described.

"To be frank, I think I've lost my passion," Carmencita continued. "It all feels stale and drab. I've been wanting and waiting to do something big, but," she trailed off and shrugged.

"Then I guess it's just right that you're here in time for Holi," Indra replied after a few moments of silence. "A festival of colors and spring. Just what a sleeping soul needs to wake up," she smiled.

"I suppose," the older woman affirmed. "Thank you Indra, that was enlightening. If you don't mind, I'd like to cut the interview short and end it here," Carmencita said as she got on her feet.

The teenager shook her head. "That's fine with me. Good luck with your article, madame."

"Perhaps I'll go experience the colors of Holi for myself. It was a pleasure meeting you Indra, goodbye," Carmencita beamed, waving goodbye as she traversed the path through the rainbow bathed park.