Blue(Kanishka Roy) Blue


Well, what is blue?

Is it the colour of my night lamp?
Or is the night itself?
Perhaps it is the quiet shade of sanity
Amidst the madness of a starry night.


I guess it is the colour of the sea
And the beauty of the sky,
Until, of course, it smears itself scarlet
By the wound of a departing sun.

Maybe they are the order of the high
Whose mighty sword slips into my gut
The blue of my ink runs dry,
As I bleed red all the same.


They say blue is purity,
Like the skin of Ram and Kaali
And the blood of my mother, my sister, my wife;
Bluer than the eyes of Jesus

Is it an expression of my melancholy?
Or is it simply the colour of my curtains?
Oh Blue! You're just a tint
On the looking glass I use to see the world through.

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