The colour of ‘some colour’

Sleep was playfully dancing on my eyes. It was tripping on my eyebrows and falling onto the desk where my arm was perched supporting my chin, which felt heavy with stupor. I could see blurred hints of the colour of her sari. I could not fathom the colour though. I did not try to, either. Because then, my brain will have to perform a colossal military operation on my lethargic nerve cells to make them register the colour. It was some colour. I was satisfied with ‘some colour’. Why would I worry about any detail beyond ‘some colour’ anyway?

All I wanted was to be able to let sleep cuddle me into sweet oblivion. Obviously, my mind was determined not to let that happen. The guilt of wanting to sleep and being almost asleep in class, while the teacher (who was wearing a sari of ‘some colour’) was laboriously explaining how the annoying armature reaction affects the flux in a synchronous machine; was too much for my brain to handle. So, every time the exceptionally lazy persona of my mind succumbed to the seductive calls of sleep, the consubstantial remarkably dutiful persona of my mind would send a signal to my arm, “Sever all ties with chin”; and it would drop subserviently, so that I ‘fall’ out of sleep from a fairly dangerous height.

In those broken moments of consciousness, I always saw the hue of ‘some colour’ of our teacher’s sari, without fail. However, it was ‘some colour’ everytime, since my optic nerves were lazier than my own being. During one such instance of having almost hit my chin on the desk, I also saw a hint of eyeballs in ‘some colour’ of…..Wait, what??

I as well as my optic nerves stumbled upon a momentary dose of consciousness. The teacher was looking at me; directly AT me; directly at my lazy, semi-open eyes, which were doing a bad job in staying open. I would have dozed off again if the remarkably dutiful persona of my mind hadn’t managed to send the customary signal to my arm. And, this time I did literally ‘fall’ out of sleep, and while my face stopped centimetres away from the surface of the desk, my optic nerves, strangely, became hyper-alert! The pretentious notes I were taking while dozing off came into focus, even though my face was barely a centimetre away. Among all the pandemonium of horribly scattered ghosts of letters, one word stood out.


‘Some colour’ was maroon.

Oh, how I love my brain!


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