What's not to like about pink?

So I have several things to say about Bangalore and it will come up post by post starting this evening, but yesterday I was catching up and turned slightly pink with indignation when I saw this post.

Veena, who has just been given a rather fetching pink luggage tag, says, "Must say that if there's a little bit of pink in me, I'd rather it manifest itself on a suitcase than on anything else. This way, I will be done with my little bit of pink."

What's wrong with a pink luggage tag? And that shade of pink too. If it was some soppy frilly pink I would dissociate myself from it as well, but look at that shade! Lovely.

I like pink. When I was a kid, it used to be my favourite colour and I was unselfconscious about it. Then I grew to understand the girly associations even before Barbie arrived and suddenly pink was no longer a colour I could profess to like.

One moved to other, more delicate shades and combinations: pale grey and green, dark purple shading into black. Colours that could have been fragrances: verdigris, amber, indigo, lilac, fuschia.

Fuschia. No avoiding pink, after all. Think of pink the colour of bouganvillea and put it against a deep, warm orange. Or pink the colour of candy teetering on the edge of flourescence. You could warm yourself on the colour. Heat seeking missiles could have deep pink dots to signify objects that suck the light and warmth in.

Pink with a violent purple border, like in Puneri saris. Or the pink of Paithani saris, in combination with parrot greens and shimmering red and black. Pink the colour of jelly, of hibiscus, of flesh, of Dune.

I confess to a weakness for pink, as anybody who was at the reading will testify ( I wore a shocking pink sari* and was probably the brightest thing for miles around, even accounting for the flashing lights on the Used In India exhibits!)

So Veena, how about I give you Scaramouche and you give me that luggage tag?

*There's a photo somewhere in a friend's camera. I was on the first floor, in my sari, propping up the door rather artistically, and he was on the road looking at me through the CKS logo on the wall. Will put it up when I have it.