Cotton Candy

Smruthi Krishnan
2 min readSep 22, 2020

Cotton Candy and I go way back in 2003 - when 3 year old me found a pink cloud in the corner of a grey, dingy lane. Chotu bhaiyya swirled his rusty machine and made me my own little cloud of sticky magic. My toddler hands held on to it, as strongly as they could.

'What if it floats away?'

Since then, little me coloured all my skies a shade of pink. Amongst the 50 shades of Blue, there was one pink sky, the oddball - me.

'What if I'm weird?
The concept of being 'weird' is weird.

Fast-forward to 2020.
My Instagram feed is brimming with Cotton Candy skies. Seems like everyone is chasing pink skies this quarantine.
Which got me thinking, and eventually overthinking - Was I really the oddball then? Or have people driven away their blues or maybe switched their preferences ? If we all paint skies tonight, would they paint pink ones too? What are the chances that mine would still stand out?

But then,
If you think about it.
It was my little pink cloud, wasn't it?
I held on to it closely, didn't I?
All the fairs and streets I went to,
I never left without my Cotton Candy.
Every time, I lost my way in the crowd
I'd navigate my way back to the rusty machine
And wait with a cloud in my hand, for strangers and lovers to come find me.
Who walked away with time.
The pink clouds, however, stayed.
Filling up my stretch of pale flush skies.
A thousand different shades of pink, each tasting a little bit more like heaven. A cold sweet Sugar rush, you see?

Why does it bother me that pink skies aren't just my thing anymore?
Call me selfish, I'll slide into a pretense of nonchalance.
I want pink skies all unto myself. They are my precious; my identity.

Like the secret songs in my playlist, I never tell anyone else about - because it's my song, and I can't stand someone else claiming the same. Or the broken parts of things I have treasured over the years, stored in wooden box with the broken pieces of my heart?
Or the collection of poems I have hidden in the back of my cupboard lest someone else falls for the words.

Who am I without my secret songs, hidden poems and a box of broken things? Who am I without my pink little cloud?

I wonder.
Did Chottu bhaiyya swirl a pink cloud of magic for everyone? Or was it a Smruthi special ? For I don't like sharing my Cotton Candy Skies, just as much as I don't like sharing my Cotton Candy Cloud.



Smruthi Krishnan

Economics Major. Aspiring Journalist. I write poems, sometimes.