Beyond the riot of colors

I stand at the edge of a canvas, where the world is painted in hues of black and white, their quiet constancy my only refuge. Like the moon’s loyal reflection on a still lake, these two shades have danced through my life, never straying from their path. They are the steady rhythm of my heartbeat, the silent whispers of my soul, untainted by the chaos of color. To invite the riot of pigments would be to shatter this delicate balance, like dropping ink into water, watching it bleed and blur, drowning the purity of what’s always been. Holi, with its thousand unpredictable shades, feels like a storm to my stillness. The colors are fleeting, scattered, inconsistent each hue a transient echo of a world too restless for my peace. The joy of that vibrant chaos pulls at me, but I resist. It disrupts the quiet sanctuary I’ve built in black and white. The colors of Holi, so full of promise and yet so easily smeared, are a betrayal to my need for simplicity. Where others see celebration, I see uncertainty, a world where even beauty fades and loses itself in the mix. The scattered powders, once vivid and bold, soon dissolve into a patchwork of muddied shades, as if the very essence of color cannot hold onto its own identity. Each streak of color, though meant to be joyful, distorts the stillness I’ve always known. They speak of a world unmoored, a kaleidoscope of fleeting impressions, while I seek something deeper something steady and eternal. I don’t want to feel swept up in the whirlwind of momentary joys that fade as quickly as they arrive. My black and white, though simple, have always been a promise of permanence. They have stood by me when everything else faltered, when chaos reigned and choices blurred. In the monochrome world, there is clarity. There is no need for interpretation, no fear of being lost within the noise. Every line, every shadow, every subtle shift from light to dark is a meditation on the constant ebb and flow of life. The simplicity of black and white does not demand attention, yet it is in that quiet simplicity that I find my greatest solace. It is the purity of being, of existing without the overwhelming need to be noticed or defined by something that constantly changes. I am a portrait of simplicity, and in this monochrome embrace, I find my peace uncomplicated, unwavering, unbetrayed. The colors of Holi may paint the world with joy for some, but for me, they are a blur, a distraction from the deep harmony I find in the constant, the eternal, and the unbroken lines of black and white. I do not need the riot of color to feel alive. I have always felt everything I need in the stillness of my own canvas, where simplicity is not a lack but a fullness in itself