Red

Red

I had a colourless home,

There resided a lot many colourless people

Painting their colourless dreams

On those colourless walls.

But I was born red,

And I was outside the ring. 

Though they wrapped me

in colourless clothes

Tied my tongue, insisting that

being coloured was weird,

I was red.

Don't ask me 5 W's and 1 H

I was red, and was outside the ring. 

Back then, I was colorblind, I guess.

When I got out of that colourless haven,

I saw only red people,

And heard only red speeches

Red is truth,

Red is revolution,

They said. 

And on and on and on. 

Years passed, and then,

I could see colours,

I saw not only red,

But green, blue, orange and white as well. 

And then I saw many coloured rings,

Heard coloured speeches,

read coloured books,

And as always I was red

I was outside the ring,

But still, I was red. 

And after 18 years, I was red enough,

To be dragged inside the ring.

And so, there I was.

But inside, everything was not very red

Atleast not the red that I thought,

It would be. 

They said that the scarf on my head was

Not that of red.

Red is of inclusion, they screamed.

But I felt excluded.

They said, with my rigid belief system

I had no right to speak politics.

Red voiced everyone, I thought.

They showed me, it did not. 

I was not really red.

They said.

Who is really red?

I Wonder.

-Rana Fathima