When I was in college, I invested in a flashy pair of blue-coloured contact lenses. I thought it would lend oodles of glamour to my mediocre personality. I thought it would be a good substitute for my tiny bosom, embarrassing lisp and under-confidence in general. I thought my brown eyes were uncool, boring, despicable even.
And then, I never heard anyone say, “oh my God, look at those gorgeous brown eyes.” I mean they aren’t the colour of a balmy morning sky, neither one of those iridescent colours of the peacock, nor one of those striking rainbow colours. They are not even the colour of Angelina Jolie’s eyes.
Days passed into weeks, weeks lapsed into months, and nobody cared to look at me, let alone gaze into my sexy blue eyes. I was more angry than disappointed – angry because I’d splurged my entire pocket money on those glamorous lenses. I could have bought novels, signed up for a gym membership, or opted for speech therapy.
“Your brown eyes make you look resplendent. The way they light up when you talk about your love of literature, the way they sparkle when you reminisce about your happy childhood, the way they fill up when you confide in your best friend about the sudden demise of aunt Nanda. A part of me springs back to life every time I sneak at a glance at you. My dear girl, stop pining for the blue of the ocean when Mother Earth is shrouded in brown herself. Brown is the colour of strength, resilience, hope and life!” A boy with brown eyes told me one day.
They were not just another pair of brown eyes; they were his deep brown eyes.
Swati Moheet Agrawal lives in Mumbai, India. Her work has appeared in Ariel Chart, Café Dissensus, Friday Flash Fiction, Indian Periodical, ActiveMuse, Setu, Kitaab, and elsewhere. When not buried between the pages of a book, she likes to dabble in decoupage art.
Follow her on Instagram @ swatiwhowrites
and Twitter @MoheetSwati