His heart silently screamed, and he dried his eyes against the rough sides of his dull, grey coat. The coat was dark, but darker still was his heart. It hadn’t always been like this. There was a time, eons ago; when he was......
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She was so ugly that your eyes would burn just by looking at her. But Rainbow’s eyes burned with a different fire. He thought Grey had neither a pretty face nor a colourful coat, but she had another kind of beauty, what's that cliché again, ah yes, inner beauty. To him, looks mattered not.
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It was at the wedding of dear Mr. Robin, amidst the unabashed revelry of drunken bachelors-no-longer that Rainbow and Grey met. Rainbow was one of the unfortunate ones caught up in drink, and regurgitated everything before he could reach the God forsaken loo. Not exactly. Grey was the 'loo' he vomited in. Their faces red like overripe tomatoes, and their hearts as mushy as one too. It was the beginning of something great yet terrible, like the majesty and ferocity of the hunting lion.
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One day, Rainbow returned home looking as if his face had been permanently etched with a grin. Everybody wondered what had happened, but rumour had it Rainbow and Grey had been blissfully prancing off somewhere secluded. The young ones loved to gossip, the elders soon heard of it and they were certainly not happy with “Rainbow & Grey”. You should have seen the look on his face, the old, grumpy elder. He was pale and green at the same time, and people seriously thought he was going to burst. Yes, not happy at all.
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“Now, look little lady! Did you see that shooting star, the one that just whizzed past?” Grey obediently nodded. “That’s Rainbow, and this dirt I’m standing on is you. They have never met, can never meet, and will never meet, ever!”
She wanted to tell the fool that asteroids might collide with the earth one day, knock his head, but in the end, she simply buried her unsightly face into her tear-soaked coat. Was the village elder right? Her heart rang with questions of doubt and fear. Her silent sobs went on throughout the night, and even the dead cried in their eternal sleep.
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He was holding a grey feather and a rainbow feather in his hands, when she asked him to leave her. He threw both away, and asked her the question. “Do you love me?” The sunlight illuminated the vibrant colours of his fluffy coat, revealing the pride of his upright posture and his passionate gaze. Yes, the dignity he carried himself with and his passion… that’s what she loved most about him. Taken aback by his sudden outburst, she withdrew into the security of her dull, drab layer, but her heart wanted to do the opposite.
She said nothing, and it was just that, nothing.
Rainbow did not reply, but simply started to peck at his wings. He was taking out his very own feathers to place on Grey! Slowly, bit by bit, like a painter doing his last piece of work, he painfully, patiently finished his living masterpiece.
Grey had become beautiful! She now had a coat of colourful feathers, and her once-shunned upright feathers now seemed to emphasize her elegance. Unfortunately, beauty had its price to pay. Rainbow was now a drab grey; he had exchanged his own beauty, to ensure that of his loved one.
It should have ended right there, and they should have lived happily ever after, but it did not. Grey soon realized the bird she loved, had been lost with his feathers. She had loved an image, not a person. And so, she left him, the illusion of love broken. He was alone, naked in the dark, and filled with despair. He cried and cried, till he lost his sweet, angelic voice.
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The once-beautiful crow let out a last wail of anguish for the selfish peacock, and with that, took flight, first a black silhouette, then nothing.
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A peacock fluttered its almost flightless wings, and came to where the crow stood. It brandished its plumage, and the crow pecked its face. Maybe, just maybe, one day the shooting stars will really come down to earth.
