Red, blue, green, azure, indigo, eternal black and all encompassing - white. Each of these have a story of their own to tell. These are not dead colors. They live and breathe. Like one of our own. They just dont paint this world and the world beyond. They paint our emotions, give a tint to what already exists within realms and are true manifestations of everything within and without.
Once upon a time, when very first apple was eaten in garden of bliss, the eater got thrown out. He landed up at someplace which was all white. All over the horizon, as far as the vision took thoughts to, it was all colorlessly white. That was when it all began. Walking aimlessly on these snowed terrains, he met pink. Love blossomed. White was about to loose its identity, its virginity. It got sprayed with pink and the terrain gained many more hues. Time elapsed. Many of these shades were still emerging. White was happy. It was no longer alone in this big world. It now had companions. Blue was there to help quench all the desires. Blue was swift, shapeless and supportive. They made a good match. Made for each other. They knew their limitations. White would not venture in blue's territory and blue, like a real child, would come across and play at the feet of white.
Theirs was not the world to keep. As world grew and as more inhabited it, many more shades shaped up. With a desire for white and lust for pink, they started looking for a tool. Lurking in a corner, gaining shape was black. It always existed. It was gaining life now. It needed a reason to come out of hibernation. It started finding some. With increasing species, it had ample. Aided by green and powered by red it began its long march. Green would always make it suspicious. Giving it a reason to disturb the tranquil white. Pepped up by green, red would be black's brother in arm. Black would design and red would strike. More sprays, more betrayals, more anger, more seething, more evil. That was the hallmark of red. Red and black marched on. Stamping the world of white and blue. Pink would watch helplessly and indigo could not do any thing. Once in a while when black would rest, yellow would sprout. Giving an illusion that not all was over. Harmony still existed. Orange will help yellow set up bases and it would try to put life back into all that was almost burnt by seeth of red and march of black. But all that would never live long. Black would rise up again. Like a magic monster. And yellow, orange, pink- each one of these would become groundless.
This was the rule of game. Play of colors. Not as we know it and think it is. But as it actually is. Since the first descent and the first march. Eternal black against all encompassing white. Black was fiery and powerful, aided by green and dead red. White was assimilating and tolerant. All other colors - violet, indigo, blue, orange, pink -would walk arm in arm and merge into white. Giving White a reason to run against crusading march of black and its allies.
The march of black continues till date. Overriding and powerful. A hint of restoration comes up once in a while. With white and its friends gaining ground. But not long enough. Black rises up again and all gets lost.
Even today, White is patiently waiting. Enveloping and protecting so many other colors. Hoping that someday it would put an end to the march of black.
