Time: 06:00 am On a regular Monday morning… Rishi’s alarm rang once. He opened his eyes before the tune could finish it’s second beat. The room around him was already awake – with his bed still neatly tucked in, books already aligned perfectly in a stack ready to be packed in the bag, faint smell of soap lingering in the air from the night before. He sat up counted his breaths, swung his feet to the floor, slipping into his sandals. Everything happened the way it always had. Across the city, not too far away, Kavya’s alarm had screamed for the fourth time before she slapped it silent. She laid on the bed still for a second, eyes half open, staring at the ceiling fan spinning like it had a life of it’s own. Paint-stained jeans were spread over a chair in one corner. A kurta lay folded on the bed, forgotten halfway through the night. Brushes rested inside the coffee mug, paint splattered all over the white ceramic tiles. Music played softly from the speaker that she didn’t remember turning on. Rishi brushed his teeth with precise strokes, counting each in the back of his mind whereas Kavya brushed hers, while pacing the room, hurriedly searching for her notebook and finding three other things instead. He ironed his shirt, cleaning out all the creases and folds while she tugged on to whatever that was washed and felt right. He opened his refrigerator, took out the box with his name written on it and a small bottle of milk along with it. From the box, took out his morning breakfast prepared freshly and stored the day before by the house maid – four pieces of toasted multigrain bread, an egg with sunny side up and a bowl of chopped fruits and nuts. Placing the toast and egg on a plate, he opens the microwave and puts it in, heating it up. Having taken an ample amount of time eating, washing the dishes and turning the lights off, he leaves his flat early. Whereas Kavya was rushing all over the place – hair still damp, shoes in her one hand and keys in the other. Before leaving, her flat mate, Tejaswi, a gentle caring soul, goes into the kitchen demanding her to eat something before leaving. But both time and mind were against it and the diplomatic individual that she is, chose to take the protein bar that Tejaswi had brought, for the go. Balancing all of it together in her hands, she too leaves for college. They reached at the same time, but how they got there is what made them different and unique. Rishi walked through the corridor – in a straight line, even steps, eyes forward and clenching his bag on the shoulder and a book in the other. Kavya ran, drifting through the crowd, bag slipping off her shoulder and apologising to no one that she had bumped on the way. She then turned the corner a little too fast and collided with him – this was the first meeting that led to the creation of a whole worthy story. The sketchbook that he had clenched in his hand fell first. She dropped to the floor immediately, words coming out of her mouth as fast as her hands moved to pick it up. “I’m so sorry, are you okay? I wasn’t looking and I was late and, –“ she stopped abruptly, when she accidentally opened the book. The drawings were so detailed and careful - Faces that were built from shadows, intricate architectural marvels and hyper realistic portraits that played with light and an absence of space, that when it came to fine arts, can be called as a one-of-a-kind art-style, skilful to the core. She naturally frowned, but the emotion was a mix of curiosity and confusion. “These are beautiful.” She said and then softly “But, why don’t you use any colours for your artwork?”, “It would look a-mazing!!!” He hesitated. It was a question that he was fed up answering, but something was different when the same question had come from her. “I don’t want to avoid them; I just don’t see them the way you do. “ said Rishi. It was not an incomplete answer – yes, it would leave anyone a little confused the first time, but for him, it was the truth. He couldn’t see colours – a rare condition when it comes to medical sciences called Achromatopsia. For him life was always in black and white – bland and boring, and art was a canvas to show people, a world that he sees. As expected, she couldn’t fully understand by what he had meant but smiled and put forward her hand. “Kavya, section B, second year fine arts and now, a huge fan of yours.”. A little thrown of by the quick interaction, he spaced out for a while but soon came to his senses, introducing himself – “My name is Rishi, Rishi Jain, 22 years old, Rajasthan and I love to write when I get time… Oh sorry, yes, umm, I am in second year fine arts as well, section D.”. They shook hands and went their separate ways, knowing very well that they had met someone very special. They began talking after that, slowly and then often, mostly during breaks and after classes. He showed her the right way to sharpen a pencil, pressure variations that changed everything in a drawing and how restraining yourself at times can be powerful. She showed him what, the OTHER side of the same coin, can lead to – pieces of work that could not be replicated ever again, works that were emotions, recorded. She made him FEEL the colours and experience them, which made him fall in love with a concept alien to him. She dipped her brush into paint without thinking, letting the colour spill wherever it wanted. When working side by side, their art looked nothing alike, and yet, it felt like it somehow belonged to the same world. It was a way for both of them to explore a different perspective to the same world that they were living in, and they loved it. The concept of having someone to introduce your unique life to, made them even closer through time. And over an even looonger time, they started adopting the habits of each other, in their own lives, that they both agreed would do only good. After all, everyone thinks of changing the world, but no one thinks of changing themselves – in a journey to make a name for yourself in the world, it is ourselves that we forget. Kavya started waking up early, planning things ahead and tried to bring upon some discipline into her clumsy nature. It was tough and it would have always been a struggling process, to go from “ Let’s just wing it “ to “ Let’s come up with a plan “, for her had a difference as the day and night but she did it. Whereas, for Rishi, it was his low level of people skills and social battery that had to be changed. Kavya spoke the way she had lived – jumping between ideas, laughing mid-sentence and getting distracted by everything that caught her eye. Whereas, he spoke less and loved to listen, listen to her and listen he did, when she started to take him to crowded parties and places. He simply could NOT wrap his mind around the idea of them. A lot of people, who might not even know each other, coming together in one place to drink, dance and have fun?! It was not meant for him and never was, but he tried and that he did, but success was not waiting by the end of it. In those parties, he felt bad – sitting in a corner, isolated, while Kavya was having fun drinking and talking to people. Apart from that, Kavya’s smoking habit, was something he never liked. Back home, he has always seen, and was told not to indulge in any bad habits, especially when it came to drinking and smoking. Coming from a very orthodox Jain family, they were very strict about it as well and his opinion on it developed to be the same, later on in life. More than that, the concept of a “ woman “ smoking was very alien to him, a sight he would have never even imagined, back in his town. All of this had been bothering him, but talking to her about it, was never in his mind – after all, how so ever strange it was, the concept of free-will was not new for him, she should be able to do whatever she wants, right?!! But Kavya, did not like the fact that Rishi was not changing. From her point, he was not putting in the same effort that she had been, to change themselves, for the better – If she could bring in discipline to her life, why couldn’t he try and interact with people, get to know them. It will only benefit him, getting to hear their stories will help only him to explore and write new stories, right?!! This led to her decision to go to his apartment and rearrange his things. For her, this was a good idea to teach him to let loose and not be compulsive about certain things. She moved around books, papers and stationery. But when Rishi walked in, later that day, something inside him snapped. Everything he felt through words that he didn’t mean, left his mouth, landing harder than expected. She did not say much, much at all and left without arguing or uttering even a word, while he stood frozen, surrounded by order that felt unfamiliar to him. The days after felt wrong – planned and structured, it was, but EMPTY. Whereas, for her, she wanted to hate him and anyone would, for what had happened, but the habits he had left behind, only hurt her, leaving her CONFUSED. He tried drawing but hands didn’t move, letting the ink bleed past the rigid lines. It felt wrong and his chest tightened every-time, but he didn’t stop. Whereas, back in her place, Kavya tried organising, but she failed. She laughed at herself, sat down on the floor and understood something that she hadn’t before, that her chaos is what makes her, her, and it was always supposed to be. Months later… It was time for the year end exams and all students of the university had to put up works that they had developed over a year for the jurors and other art enthusiasts to evaluate. Rishi’s final piece hung on the wall – an impressive eighteenth-century gothic city scape, that was detailed, monochrome and hyper-realistic. But beside it, was Kavya’s – bold and colourful, an artwork hiding something and that truly wants to tell a story. “ I still can’t see your colours. “ she said, standing next to him, both, looking at the artworks. “ Good ” he replied “ Then they are still mine.” he said smiling. Love is not about fixing what’s broken or trying to coexist, worrying. It’s about being yourself and learning how to stand next to it without fear.