As Pink as it gets!

It was the last week in college. All were signing autographs and filling in the slam book. The college magazine will be handed over in two days’ time. There was a section in there where we had to fill some trivial questions about ourselves like your favorite film, favorite quote, favorite song, so on and so forth. I was the last one to submit the questionnaire for I had difficulty in figuring out my favorite song. I started thinking how the entire process went.

 “Will anyone really care about others’ likes and dislikes? It was easy to fill in details about the film, quote etc but what about the song?” I wondered.  

I shrouded off “It’s me being typical.”

I made a quick glance through my music collection, all the downloaded and copied songs. It had taken lots of efforts to have that kind of collection. Thankfully I had it i.e patience.

“I like all of them, that is why I listen to them. Now which one to pick?” I contemplated.

“Everything I do, I do it for you by Bryan Adams. Should I pick that one? Nooo … People will judge me as a hopelessly romantic person when I have always been portrayed as this studious kind.  There was one person besides me in the class who liked that song. If he suggests the same, everything will be out there in the open.” I wondered.

The following night, I saw Armageddon. More than the film, I loved the soundtrack “I Don't Want to Miss a Thing.” I had it in the music collection but never knew it was from this film.

I realized that the entire western collection was from a friend. To be precise, he was my senior in school. We had never exchanged pleasantries in school.  Our friendship started because we were doing courses from the same university, he was doing his masters and I was doing bachelors, both in computers. We had the same books and similar topics. We were introduced by a mutual friend, who was my senior and his junior.

Apart from exchanging books, we started exchanging movies, songs etc. He introduced me to the world of western music. Earlier, my western music was limited to one and only, the King of Pop, Michael Jackson.  Apart from being a good singer, he was a prolific musician. Few times, he did perform “Hotel California”, “Lady in Red” for me within the closed doors of his home. I had heard him take the name of Steven Taylor too.

After watching Armageddon, I decided to hear the songs from Aerosmith from my collection, this time very attentively.  I was immediately addicted to the song “Pink”.

“Pink is not only my favorite crayon, it’s favorite song too!” I thought as I happily filled in the questionnaire.

By the end of the week, we received the college magazine.

He asked “Pink? Is there any song by that name?”

 “Of course. You will get it today. Wait for my email.” I chuckled.

We left college. He moved on, I moved on. We were never meant to be together.

I was dating a guy who was not from my region, who didn’t understand my language or my culture. All we knew was that we could tolerate each other and there was a comfort level.

We were invited by a friend for a Karaoke night. I was super excited when my turn came. Without any second thoughts, I declared “Pink is my favorite crayon and my favorite song.”

Clamors were replaced by deafening silence.  I flustered. I was never used to this kind of appalling attention. I looked at him, his face had turned red.

“What is happening? Is he, all right? Why does he look mortified?” I wondered.

That didn’t deter me. I sang my heart out.

We left the place in a hurry. All through the trip back home, he was all grumpy.

After few heated exchanges, he said “Do you know the lyrics of the song? Do you understand its meaning?”

“Of course, I do. It’s about color Pink. So well written!” I said.

“Are you sure? If you had known, you would have never declared it as your favorite song! Go and do some research. One more thing, please don’t embarrass me next time with your acts.” he said angrily.

That night, we never exchanged our custom good nights and sweet nothings. My ego was hurt, so was his.

I started doing my research. As I discovered the hidden meaning of the song, I was really amazed by the clever craft of words. My respect for Steven Taylor increased in multifold.

“There is nothing condescending in the lyrics. You need to grow up!” I texted him.

“Ok.” He replied. That was the last time I heard from him.