Saffron, White and Green

History

Written. Erased. Redefined.

Witnessed. Forgotten. Recounted.

She paints herself with a thousand countenances.

In a myriad of colours.

Colours that become more than a palette

Colours that become history herself.

Colours that speak of vivid moments

Of realities whitened out and silenced

That rise to scream in saffron …and green…

Holy colours both saffron and green.

They speak in their own hues about the ways of true life.

Once upon a time (apparently) united in their mission of peace

In the purity of a white and bright tomorrow,

They soon made voluble their irreconcilable variances;

In a tensed truce valley, a line of control , a no man’s land…

Saffron, white and green.

Revered colours

Of an identity, of an ethos,

Of a journey, a struggle and a dream

Of a history and her remaking…

Today the mouldy moss over the ruins echo their own shade of greenness,

And the editorial columns turn white with a rapid frequency

As blood splattered streets continue to turn saffron in the evening sun.

Here again is history

Written. Erased. Redefined.

Witnessed. Forgotten. Recounted.

A thousand canvasses already painted.

Some framed up, others discarded.

Yet others vandalized… forcefully destroyed…

Saffron, white and green

The palette hasn’t changed…

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