Not that one, that is orange, I wanted the peach one, I told my husband. He gave me that look which meant, I thought peach was a fruit, not a color (I have heard that one before, you see). He has no idea that as a Tam who has grown up in Tam-land, my relationship with colors goes far deeper than a flippant ‘orange or peach?’ level. I am used to every color lovingly described on a first name – surname basis. As a child, I rarely heard colors as just red or just blue – not even just white.
The most abiding memory is that of the color pink – for some reason, Tams like pink a lot, in all forms. except they never call it pink. Rose, it is always. Rose color, to be precise. If ever it is pink, then it is baby pink – and then there is magenta. I have never seen a bunch of people more fond of magenta (exactly what color it is, I have never understood). This family is a large one – there is also lavender. The other typical descriptor here being katthiripoo color – the color of brinjal flowers. And violet and mauve – usually called mo, and in stray cases maavu – I can never think of the lighter tones of purple now, without also thinking of fermenting dosa maavu – rice batter.
After this are the greens – to me, green is green, mostly evocative of grass and fair trade and therefore inflated prices (think Body Shop). But Tams, no. Green is a staggering range, spanning from parrot green (kili pacchai) and pista green to bottle green (don’t ask me) and moss green (passi pacchai). Blue is not as loved as green in general (it has no auspicious associations, you see, as red or green) , but that does not stop anyone – I can recollect sky blue, navy blue(!) and ink blue. There is also daaarkku blue, the elongated dark to signify deep tones, not quite purple but getting there. And mayilkazhuthu color – that gorgeous color of the peacock’s neck. And for some strange reason, gray is another color that is fondly described – I would not have thought so many versions of gray possible but believe me, there is steel gray, cement gray and elephant gray. And this is just what I can remember now.
Yellow makes it possible for great heights of expression – from govinda manjal, for one – not to be confused with the colors our Chi Chi wears, but the bright yellow of the robes of Govinda devotees – through mampazham color (the color of mango, yummy!) all the way to mustard. I know mustard puzzled me for the longest time, given that the only mustard I ever saw used then was black.
Tams are nice, they do not have gender stereotyping in colors and all the pink versus blue brouhaha. But they can be acerbic about colors that they think are not, ahem, classy enough. Fittingly, they are described as adikka vara color – those hues which come out to hit you – I cannot think of a suitable translation in any other language, the closest is LOUD.
It is perhaps this way with all cultures and all languages… I think Asian Paints hit it on the spot with the mera wala pink ad. I was reading on colors and I found this – there are one million colors that the human eye can distinguish. (Others put the number as high as 7 million).
Anyway, all this is neither here nor there. I moved out of Madras long ago into a duller if classier world – now I think in ochre and burgundy and fuchsia and turquoise – someone at NIFT even tried chartreuse on me once.
Not to forget peach. Of course, peach. That is where all this started…
Update : How did I forget – MS blue, mithai pink and Ramar color? Thanks, people!
Kathirippu and Mayilkazhuthu colours! OMG! They bring back all those not-so-wonderful memories of matching-blouse centres…
Here’s another candidate for you: “Ramar” colour, a sweet combination of light blue-green (with, like, 75 percent blue) …
Excellent Blog post, Thank you for the blog ..
Great commentary on every day culture!
What about MS blue? ada maraduttiye?
MS = M S Subbulakshmi
Not sure if these are Tamil or South Indian, but I’ve also heard of Mithai pink and Ananda Blue.
There’s also the colour of the tender mango leaf – a sort of maroon-brown – dunno the Tamil phrase for that, tho’ I know it exists. Actually, reading your piece and writing this comment, I realise this happens in my mother tongue, Telugu, too.
Haven’t you heard-of or did you forget the famous MS Blue (called after M.S.Subbulakshmi’s saree colour?)
As a Tamilian living in Kerala many years ago, it always annoyed me no end when someone would pejoratively refer to Mithai pink and neon green as ‘Pandi color’, though I suppose it wasn’t exactly the color but the loudness (cheerfulness? less likely to be run over by a speeding lorryness?) of those hues that caught the fancy of all the day laborers pouring in from TN.