The thing is I don't really like red. Neither do I love it. But red finds me, at places. At a bookstore, somewhere. Or right in the midst of my shopping spree. Or while I am busy ignoring me. Or the times I am trying hard to cling onto my Bengali roots. Red finds me, in chaos and loneliness.
And no, red isn't just something metaphorically romantic to me. Romance comes in all shapes and sizes and costs. But I like it when red nags me to make it my own favourite. When red adores me. When red embraces me. When red makes me feel good. When red makes people ask 'Bong?' I guess, red and I have a long way to go. Together.