Her Choice

Her Choice

"Hey wifey, I remember you have an outfit in red. Why do you want another?" asked Vinod perplexed

"Yeah. You have a good memory mister, but you are nescient when it comes to colours." Replied Natasha smiling.

"You are right.  I have an outfit in red. But that is crimson red. The theme for tomorrow is sangria red." Elucidated Natasha.

"Oh yeah! Whatever that means." Said her husband Vinod with scorn.

"You know red has many shades. Scarlet red, mahogany red, blood red, crimson red, sangria red to name a few." Said Natasha in an attempt to convince her husband.

"Oh...Take this card and enjoy your shopping. Cut me some slack on this lecture on colours." Said Vinod rubbing her off.

After a couple of hours, Natasha returned with two outfits.

"I thought you wanted a dress in something called sangria red. Then what is this?" Asked Vinod pointing to a golden colour stole.

"That is called contrast colour hubby. It goes with my outfit for tomorrow." Said Natasha.

After three months

"This yellow and green combination is weird Natasha. Go change it." Said Vinod sternly.

"Come on V. There's nothing crisper than the smell of freshly cut grass on a warm summer day and this green and yellow colour combination is just that." Said Natasha trying to prove her point.

"It is my office party. Wear something subtle like cream or beige." He retorted.

"Look, Vinod, you cannot rub off my choice. It's been two decades since we have been married. From then on everything has been your choice. Whether I should continue my job or not. When we should have kids, what I should cook, the names of our kids, what outfit to wear, saree or salwar suit everything has been your choice. Atleast let the colour of my dress be of my choice." Said Natasha sniffling.

"Now you are using your brahmastra your tears." Said Vinod in a mocking tone.

"Do you know behind every outfit of mine there is a story? A plethora of emotions are associated with each colour. The red saree you called gaudy was gifted to me by my mom. I have preserved it in her memory all these years. The pink Kurti which you called girly and immature is the dress I wore on my convocation. You know what white represents purity and innocence. When I wore a white salwar a few days back you reprimanded me by asking me if I were a widow. I can wear white when you are alive and I can wear red when you are dead. When I wore black you asked me if I was mourning. You force your choice on me every single time. Enough is enough. It's my outfit so it's gonna be my choice. Right from the type of outfit to its colour everything is gonna be my choice. " said Natasha frowning.

"You are very good at giving lectures." Said Vinod with a smirk.

"Hey, mister. Yeah, I'm good at it. But you are a bad student." Said Natasha mocking him and walked away.

Dear Friends,

Do you resonate with my thoughts? Dark or light, red or blue, pink or orange, white or, black is colour, not a woman's choice?

If you liked reading this fiction blog of mine shower your love by hitting the love icon. Give your valuable feedback in the comments section.

Love,

Latha

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