It had been a month since my friend decided to stay at my place. It is a very small time period considering the magnitude of what they have been through, but no one, and I mean no one, inspires me more than they do. Yes, the scars are extremely jarring and painful right now and they have a long way to go. As I have said before, we can’t grow out of our experiences, we can only make more room for new things – all the new big things and all the new small things. There is so much more than violence and hatred I want my friend to come across and immerse themselves in, like how one basks in the sun on an autumn afternoon. We have had a lot of time to talk and we realized that we have so much more in common than our love for books and Lorde. We are kindred souls running around in this wild world, like seeds of a dandelion finding its way across thin air. They told me about their relationship with their family and I was taken aback by how similar it was to everything I have faced. We would talk for hours over smiles and tears and sighs, and the world did not intervene for a single minute. The world was quiet for once. Despite the courage my friend has shown over the past few weeks, the fear of stepping out still haunts them. I understand what they are going through, but being alone within these walls is twice as terrifying. Luckily, there was a pride parade in the city today and I did not want my friend to be alone. It was hard and we went as far as having a small fight, but eventually they agreed and we went for the march.
They were apprehensive and a little grumpy in the beginning but it all faded away as soon as we found ourselves surrounded by an ocean of people who were as colorful as us. I saw a glimmer of hope on their face that I hadn’t seen in such a long time. Yes, there were people looking at all of us as if we were not supposed to be there but hell! We were and we were an army. We all were together in this and no slurs or judgment was going to make any difference. There we were, kindred souls roaming around the streets with no care in the world. None of us lurked in the shadows anymore. For once, the external world felt as safe as the sanctity of the four walls where we conceal ourselves from every eye that has pried on us.
The music was as loud as us and no we did not back down from screaming at the top of our lungs. We held on to our colors and our smiles and each other’s hands as we marched through the city. I caught a glimpse of my friend and I saw them smile and laugh. It was as if all the warmth they ever exuded had returned to their being and they felt as light as they used to be before hatred weighed them down. That is the thing about such spaces, we aren’t invisible to the world anymore. We are not totems of shame amongst each other. I had waited for my friend to smile and laugh again and to carry themselves with the radical strength and warmth they had showered upon me. That is the thing about love, you don’t leave each other behind but wait for them and walk alongside each other.
We were all colorful in our own way, and none were the same. And no color was more or less important. I mean, how should I know what is important? Because if I do, would it still be the same- will it still be as concrete as it was before? Besides, does anyone want the heaviness of being concrete? And even if I knew which color was the most important among us, would it be equally important to others too? Things change when they are spoken about out loud and when they are listened to. We all hear a different sound when the rain pours and gushes through the streets like a forest fire. And maybe that, that difference is what we are here for. We aren’t here to annihilate these differences but to embrace them and maybe that is what should hold true importance. Not the kind of importance that is concrete and heavy but light and ephemeral – like a feather landing softly on the cold floor. The true importance lies in the raw and detailed differences we carry and witness. The way two bangles clink; the changing shape of a ripple; the changing preferences for chai and coffee; the way each color holds a special significance; the way we love each other in different ways – and that, to love, is what holds actual importance. And maybe one day, like today, this world will learn to appreciate the multitude of colors and how each of us holds a special significance. And we will wait for that day to come, after all, we are still here.
