Here is another entry to be recorded for the day when I finally become a matter of much discussion among the psychotherapist community. I am sure it will unlock some of the secrets of the ‘Magnificent mind of Mr.Murthy’ (the title for autobiography motion picture I will make one day). Friday casual dressing is a fairly sought after affair in the IT circles. It is the day all the women get to dress up in all the fancy (sometimes expensive) clothes they’ve bought the previous weekend and the guys…well we just turn into the big bad wolf from Little Red Riding Hood…”all the better to see you with my dear” …you get what I’m saying.
I was hanging out with some of the office colleagues when one of the girls in the group came wearing a top to which one of the other girls commented, “Tumhara yeh purple colour top kabhi nahin dekha. Is it new?” Forgetting that I was in a public forum and I am required to keep my trap shut, I very nonchalantly said out loud, “The top is not purple, it’s mauve”.
Too late…too late… my alter ego did a face palm. My colleagues were quick to comment that on more than one occasion, I’ve abandoned my macho side and gone about referring to colours in the correct fashion. While I vehemently kept denying this for the fear of them either thinking that I have a girlfriend because no normal guy would not know that otherwise or that I’m a little lah-dee-da and hiding in the closet, the group were quick to point out examples where I have corrected people by saying things like, “The Ferrari colour is not red..it’s scarlet” or “ That’s not brown leather interiors…it’s beige” and have gone on to use refer to colours such as lavender, turquoise, parrot green, moss green, crimson, cyan and fuchsia.
Now every reader of this article will go, “OMG, that’s way too many colours for a straight man to know”. What’s worse is that I unconsciously correct women who get annoyed and think I’m being a smart Alec. Way back in school, my parents sent me for one of those art summer camps because I used to enjoy drawing and painting where one was taught to appreciate colours for what they are and refer to them appropriately. While most of the boys went to karate, hockey and cricket camps, being tubby was at my disadvantage, so it was the arts camps for me. Also, I got tired of being picked last or being made the goalkeeper.
While this camp was over 15 years ago, and I’ve taken my artistic sense to music and away from drawing, a part of it still remains. And it’s the annoying part that tends to make people raise their eyebrows every now and then. So the next time you see me say stuff like, ‘That car was a lovely electric blue’…please please do not say things like, “For a straight guy you know too many colours”.
Speaking on the matter of me drawing, here’s a little joke. One of the girls from school wrote in my slam-book (remember those?) “You are a good drawer…” I’m still confused if she’s calling me a piece of furniture or some sort of underwear.