What is the colour grey? I wonder.

A colour intermediate between black and white, says the dictionary.

Thank you, I think, rolling my eyes, but that is really neither here nor there!

Colours are what make the world come alive, that fill hearts with joy and souls with hope -

So, tell me pray, how can grey be a colour?!

*

The monsoon rain pours down incessantly, and I can hardly see a few feet from where I stand. The weather is chilly, and I just want to curl up at home with a nice book and a hot cup of tea. I feel low, I do not want to go to work.

So, is grey then the colour of gloom?

Spiders scurry away in a hurry from the cobwebs that I clear off the ceilings, and thick caterpillar shapes fall off the fan. Swirls of dust billow out from the bookshelves as I attack them with a mop, and I cover my nose and mouth with a handkerchief to avoid inhalation.

No, grey is the colour of grime.

The smoke pouring out from the exhaust of the auto chugging in front of me threatens to choke me. And I marvel at the smokers heedlessly taking a puff at the street-corner even as the ashes that fall off the ends of their cigarettes remind me inexorably of those that collect in a crematorium.

So, grey is the colour of death…

On my morning walk, I find that tiny mushrooms have sprung up overnight around the roots of trees. The fallen leaves have faded and almost completely lost their colour. I pile them up for garden humus and then go in for my breakfast. I open the fridge to find that the week-old bread is covered in mould.

Oh - so grey must then be the colour of decay!

Grey has no life, no value, it stands for nothing good, I think. It cannot be a colour!

*

But, then –

What is the colour of the night owl that hoots and tries to peer out at me as I stroll under the trees, and of my shadow that shrinks and grows as I pass under the streetlamps?

Grey is the colour of mystery!

What is the colour of the raincloud that promises showers to the parched earth and its thirsty trees? Of the cat snoozing on my neighbour's wall on a sunny day, and of the squirrel that scampers up the guava tree?

Grey is the colour of beauty!

What is the colour of my car as its metallic finish glints in the moonlight? And of the formal suits that the rosy-hued young woman and the ebony-complexioned young man are wearing to their first job interviews?

Grey is the colour of elegance!

And what is the colour of my father's receding hairline, of my mother's eyebrows, and my brother's sideburns?

Grey is the colour of experience and of wisdom gathered over a lifetime. Of dignity and grace, and the composure that comes with age.

*

And so, I wear my grey hair like a silver crown as I take my place amongst the middle-aged that walk this earth.

I am the colour grey!