The whiff of melancholy surrounded me this weekend. And I feel, this has been an essential milestone for me to preserve it in my words.
I moved out of the place I had grown up in for the past 2 years. It was a four walled, not too spacious room tucked in a corner of the house. The kind of space that I would want to come back to after a difficult day at work or a tiring road trip. And I did come back to it, feeling happy, safe and assured. Assured of the fact that I did whatever I could today, and tomorrow is going to be a brighter day.
Sitting on my bed, I would usually stare into the wall in front. This wall was my guardian angel. Maybe because this got to be close to family from Day 1. There were pictures, picked out of family albums, gathered over the years, of each of my family member with me. These would usually give me a free trip down the memory lane and make me feel loved. Next to these, hung very special dream catcher gifted to me by my sister. I always had a hard time cleaning each of its feathers, probably because of the fairy dust and dreams stuck in it.
A purple sheet of paper adorned the wall adjacent to it on the left. Back in the day, when I was young, more vocal, more confused, more raw, I had put on some pictures, words and people that inspire me on it. This sheet of paper has stuck by my side on some wall but always around through all these years. And yesterday, as I read through it, I realized how surprisingly, things manifested themselves from this sheet into my life. Million dollars, how did I miss mentioning of you in the space in here?
On the right side of my bed, was the shelf that respectfully stored my religious books and idols. As my Mom says, lucky are those who get to have a space in their home dedicated to Waheguru. This shelf saw me every day before I left for work.
Just next to it, was a shelf that spelled luxury for me. The shiny bottles, carrying elixir of my life. These bottles have made their way through different suitcases, into different homes, travelled places, met different people, spreading their fragrance and lending me something called as 'my smell'. Hoarder as I am, these perfume bottles have been growing larger in number by the years passing by.
Under this shelf, were the piles of books that I have read, left half-way, wanting to read. The book exchanges that I have participated in, gave me a hard time yesterday as I picked up each book, read a note inside it, felt happy, sad, excited based on the person I had received it from and packed it up. Although, I sure can say that the amount of books waiting for me to be read and give me company, I can go without talking to anyone for the next few years.
Zooming out, lightening the entire place up were the customary prayer flags and yellow fairy lights. Happy place, as I'd call it.
Packing my life into boxes has been an extremely emotional experience for me. Being around friends who have been shifting houses ever since their childhood, I feel alien. I question. I cry. I wonder. I smile.
How do you carry the essence of the place you call home? How do you pack the memories as you leave? How do you hand over the keys and let someone call them their own? How do you step out into the world of never return? How do you preserve the laughs you've had in the place? How do you shift homes?
I question.
I moved out of the place I had grown up in for the past 2 years. It was a four walled, not too spacious room tucked in a corner of the house. The kind of space that I would want to come back to after a difficult day at work or a tiring road trip. And I did come back to it, feeling happy, safe and assured. Assured of the fact that I did whatever I could today, and tomorrow is going to be a brighter day.
Sitting on my bed, I would usually stare into the wall in front. This wall was my guardian angel. Maybe because this got to be close to family from Day 1. There were pictures, picked out of family albums, gathered over the years, of each of my family member with me. These would usually give me a free trip down the memory lane and make me feel loved. Next to these, hung very special dream catcher gifted to me by my sister. I always had a hard time cleaning each of its feathers, probably because of the fairy dust and dreams stuck in it.
A purple sheet of paper adorned the wall adjacent to it on the left. Back in the day, when I was young, more vocal, more confused, more raw, I had put on some pictures, words and people that inspire me on it. This sheet of paper has stuck by my side on some wall but always around through all these years. And yesterday, as I read through it, I realized how surprisingly, things manifested themselves from this sheet into my life. Million dollars, how did I miss mentioning of you in the space in here?
On the right side of my bed, was the shelf that respectfully stored my religious books and idols. As my Mom says, lucky are those who get to have a space in their home dedicated to Waheguru. This shelf saw me every day before I left for work.
Just next to it, was a shelf that spelled luxury for me. The shiny bottles, carrying elixir of my life. These bottles have made their way through different suitcases, into different homes, travelled places, met different people, spreading their fragrance and lending me something called as 'my smell'. Hoarder as I am, these perfume bottles have been growing larger in number by the years passing by.
Under this shelf, were the piles of books that I have read, left half-way, wanting to read. The book exchanges that I have participated in, gave me a hard time yesterday as I picked up each book, read a note inside it, felt happy, sad, excited based on the person I had received it from and packed it up. Although, I sure can say that the amount of books waiting for me to be read and give me company, I can go without talking to anyone for the next few years.
Zooming out, lightening the entire place up were the customary prayer flags and yellow fairy lights. Happy place, as I'd call it.
Packing my life into boxes has been an extremely emotional experience for me. Being around friends who have been shifting houses ever since their childhood, I feel alien. I question. I cry. I wonder. I smile.
How do you carry the essence of the place you call home? How do you pack the memories as you leave? How do you hand over the keys and let someone call them their own? How do you step out into the world of never return? How do you preserve the laughs you've had in the place? How do you shift homes?
I question.
