He appeared with a tap on my shoulder. Amidst all the jostle that the crowd indulged in, he appeared calm. The surprise of the riot of colour on his face caught my eye.

He smiled and showed me the vessel he held.  Ah money, I thought. It paints the town red. In this case, a deep devilish pink and adorned with trinkets in their glory.

The crowd continued to swirl and sweat in the middle of Madurai’s Chithirai Festival. I pulled out the wallet with great care and thrust a few notes into his vessel. It was his turn to be surprised.

Perhaps it was the quantum of money.
Perhaps it was the fact that I gave at all. Maybe it was the minor gymnastics I had to perform to pull out the wallet and extract a few notes.

His surprise gave way to a smile and lead to a pat on my head with a peacock feather that he seemed to pull out from nowhere.

Could he smile for a picture, I ask?
He stands, smiles and then in a minute dances to a new tune and melts into the crowd.

Long after he is gone, the azure blue stays with me.  Have you wondered if you wear a paint to earn a living?
His devilish pink, trinket trodden face, with that warm smile did that to me.
(at Madurai, India)