VIBGYOR

VIBGYOR It was the festival of Holi. Families from the colony gathered inside the imposing gates. Fine liquor flowed like water as the festivities stepped-up and colour was generously sprayed on one another. Outside the opulent bungalow, a group of destitute people waited for some crumbs. Life has various shades and VIBGYOR is the bright and colourful part. The rich were radiant. For the poor, there was utter darkness. All they hoped for, was one meal. It was a riot of colour as Rajiv and Sangita made a dramatic entry. The upmarket couple were celebrities. Rang Barse from Silsila, a Holi staple, was playing and former college mates and new acquaintances and friends were dancing and crooning unabashedly. The pack became rambunctious with the revelry reaching a summit. Sunil, host and dear friend of Rajiv and Sangita, spiked the drinks of the teetotallers, having sought Rajiv’s consent. The situation became ugly as the majority of those present became inebriated. Drivers and staff of these silk-stocking individuals were quite amused and passed lurid remarks about the couples. “Rajiv, I am feeling sick and nauseous,” Sangita said suddenly. Fortuitously, Dr Tanveer, a friend was present amongst the revellers. He made attempts to resuscitate Sangita who had swooned by then. She was rushed to a nearby hospital, complaining of breathlessness too. A forlorn Rajiv looked as his prepossessing wife was wheeled into the ICU. Specialists conducted a battery of tests. For several days, Sangita’s life was swinging like a pendulum. Rajiv was berated by his parents and in-laws for the errant behaviour. Sunil too was not spared for his recklessness. All the Gods and celestial beings were beseeched seeking their intercession. Sangita did not recover. She succumbed after tenuously holding on to life for many days. Doctors suspected COVID-19. The woman, an MBA from an estimable management college had returned from China a few days prior to Holi. She worked for a multinational and had spent close to fifteen days at their factory in Wuhan. After the cremation, family members and all those who attended the Holi celebrations were quarantined. Sangita’s ashes lay at Lodhi crematorium for days together. Yes, life does have several colours, not just VIBGYOR. Sangita and her family had enjoyed the best and brightest colours in their lives. But the colourlessness of white, grey and black engulfed them as it perennially does of the destitute gathered outside Sunil’s house. Rajiv is out of quarantine, but a broken person. Every day masking his emotions and face, he feeds the poor and the migrant labour.