I was wrong. Fact is, any painting could be just as beautiful without few shades.
By this window as I see the surrounding playing to the tunes of rains; I realize something strange.
As the wind makes me uneasy and comfortable; I realize something strange.
As I lay here in a low lit room;
As my body wanders here to find its own soul; I realize something strange.
I realize I was wrong again.
I ain’t even that unimportant shade. I ain’t a color.
As the artist drew this window;
I was still that wind.
The very wind that did blew the curtains of the window,
The very wind that played a song for rains to dance.
And the wind which would make someone like me to think.
Of course I ain’t an important shade or color.
But as the artist draws a flying curtains;
I realize what I am.
I ain’t a shade. I now know.
– Shama Javkar
