This had to be done... There aren't enough cynics around

Orange Color Shirt

   This post is part of the Chennai Bloggers Club's CBC VIBGYOR BLOG TAG where some of us will write a post on the colours of VIBGYOR each day starting 1st of September to the 7th of September.
The colour theme for today's post is ORANGE

Finally! Orange, while growing up was a favourite color and gradually faded into the oblivion thanks to some unfortunate associations...

Because it is sweet
                One of my earliest memories of school is an interview of sorts... It was for some proficiency prize and it, as I remember, went on smoothly- by my 1st standard standards. Then the teacher asked what my favourite colour was. Orange, I said. Why, she asked. All hell broke loose. There was so much I could have told... It is in our flag... It symbolises holiness and sacrifice and paneer butter masala... And the first two were facts that even a UKG kid would know... But no... All I could say was, the fruit was sweet and orange and hence I loved it. As you would expect, I was never interviewed again for that prize.

Cut.... Cut... Cut
                As a favourite of the House Captain and the Master, I was asked to write a skit for my ‘house’ in high school. After lifting a plot from a couple of O. Henry stories, I was ready. It was about an innocent man facing the gallows and the tribulations of the executioner. All the characters were dressed in Grey except for the prisoner who was in orange (experimental meta stuff)... All was well until the ‘executioner’ was down with flu and the only person who could ‘mug up’ the lines in record time was a girl. If having a girl as an executioner was not metaphorical enough, what was? We also had a modified ‘you can’t handle the truth’ speech in the climax.

                The play started, the girl was doing a Shivaji Ganesan and the judges had to be told that she was not having a focal seizure episode. If that was not bad enough, the orange man forgot his lines in the climax. What made it worse was he started delivering the actual YCHtT lines, leaving the judges wonder why the hell the incarcerated investment banker thought they wanted him 'on that wall'. It blew in our face and our incompetence was a truth we couldn’t handle.

The Jimmy Legs
                The last time I wore orange was to an elocution competition. I had prepared a heartfelt abuse for all our politicians and bureaucrats who abused their power. As luck would have been, the moment I faced the mike and the chief guest, an MLA, my left leg decided to do a jig on its own. Then the Elseberg U phenomenon took over and having barely rambled about corruption, my whole body was shaking in fear/nervousness/whatnot. Somehow I managed to get it done without (further) embarrassing myself and was helped off the dais by a couple of friends as my legs lost their lives.

                This is the story of how a series of unfortunate events ensured my wardrobe has not a single orange outfit.

                Well that and Mr Ramarajan.


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