Memory Mist

Clouds come floating into my life, no longer to carry rain or usher storm, but to add color to my sunset sky.
- Rabindranath Tagore

It's amazing how rains can make the most mundane moments so beautiful ..

Selfish

There are many things that we would throw away if we were not afraid that others might pick them up.

- Oscar Wilde

Let go...

Soundless

वक्त के सितम कम हसीं नहीं
आज हैं यहाँ कल कहीं नहीं
वक्त के परे अगर, मिल गए कहीं
मेरी आवाज़ ही पहचान हैं
गर याद रहे

जो गुज़र गयी कल की बात थी
उम्र तो नहीं एक रात थी
रात का सिरा अगर, फिर मिलें कहीं
मेरी आवाज़ ही पहचान हैं
गर याद रहे

नाम गुम जायेगा
चेहरा ये बदल जायेगा...

... मेरी आवाज़ ही पहचान हैं
गर याद रहे

~ गुलज़ार

Picture perfect

Many people rely a lot on photographs to keep memories alive- some people go a step ahead and display all of them too. I personally know a few people whose houses look like photo galleries- photos every where- on walls, table tops, refridgerators doors and so on. Photo frame makers earn their bread and butter thanks to all these wonderful folks.

I don't mean to sound sarcastic. I am myself a photograph person- I love clicking pictures and my Sony cam is my constant companion wherever I go- so much so that my colleaugues have christened me the "official photographer" of our team.

But I still feel that the most special memories are the ones which are in us... No video- no photograph- no written account- nothing. Just a memory inside us. All the best moments in my life till now have, for different reasons, no photographs to remind me of them. And yet each of those moments is still fresh in my heart.

The time when my sister was born and she smiled at me...
The time when I flew off a hundred rupee note making an aeroplane out of it- at the time a hundred was a lot of money- and I was expecting mom to shout and as she loooked at my scared innocent face- she just hugged me...
The time when my dog died and I went into the graveyard behind our house at 11 o'clock at night because I was missing him...

And so many more... I don't have any pictures to display for these moments. In fact- the words that I used to mention them above don't even express a small percentage of what those moments were actually like.

"Don't let the memory lose its soul by putting it in physical frames... "

Amen...

An Affair to Remember

I have never been attached in any place in general. One reason for that is because my father was in the Army, and the whole routine of moving to a new place every two years made me detached from places- and even people. Moving to a new place meant making a new home, making new friends and making new memories.

Which is why it caught me by surprise when I was close to tears while moving from my present hostel room.

I have been living in a single room all by myself for the past two years. Usually one tends to get attached to a place by virtue of the people there. But as a result of my irregular timings, I hardly knew any of the other girls in hostel. The occasional talk that I had with them was in the common kitchen, limited to Hi's and Hello's and boring weather talk- or in the common TV hall, limited to a unanimous criticism or praise of the ongoing television program. "It's definitely not the company that I am going to miss" I thought to myself...

Then what is it? Why do I feel a little sad as I am all set to move out of this room?!

It is an ordinary room by all means- a modest space enclosed by four walls and a ceiling, two half functional windows and a balcony. There is an old steel cupboard, a bed, a desk and two chairs that it houses.

But those four walls have been an expression of my joy, sorrow, love and happiness through all the posters that I made myself and put on them. That ceiling has provided me the comfort of a roommate as I sometimes lay wide awake in bed at night staring at it. That cupboard has seen my rage as I banged its doors shut- and it has seen my helplessness as I once clinged onto the door and fell to the floor crying after a particularly difficult day. That forlorn bed has welcomed me to rest even when most living people close to me were not there for me- it has felt my twists and turns through nervous anxiety- it has seen me wake up after wonderful ecstatic dreams and it has felt the scared grip on my fingers as I woke up from terrifying nightmares- it has soaked in my tears and sobs. Those desk and chairs have been like my daily diary, more a part of my routine than my most intimate family/friends. That balcony has been witness to my love and pain alike on silent nights as I watched the moon come up over the dark old trees silhouetted against its faint calm light. It is the violet flowers spread out in that balcony which have given this blog its name. All these have been the most intimate witnesses to my life in the past two years.

This room has been my equal partner in my first tryst with complete independence. And it never let me feel the absence of a living counterpart. And that is what makes it so special. I have never had any particular problem bidding farewell to people- but a farewell to this small room has me up in knots.

But as they say- farewells should never be unhappy. Though I am sad leaving this room behind, I am equally sure that I will make a new friend in my new place. It will be a new home. I will always have fond memories of this first home of mine. And that's how life is- old memories and young hopes!

Someone

I am called the Kabaadee in my team- a person who collects silly things like chocolate-wrappers, gift-wrapping papers, empty Pringles boxes and God knows what not! I find it difficult to just throw away things- because each one of them brings a whiff of some random moments, and I relive that incident with the same flavor all over again. While this might sound way too mushy and useless to all the fastidious utilitarians out there- it is simply another way of living which people around me have accepted and, in fact, have come to expect too! They know that the next time I get those chocolates called Kisses, I will promptly take a ribbon off one of the chocolates and slip it into my drawer.

In case you are wondering- I do believe in spring cleaning. So there are times when I open my drawer and start sorting it out. Sitting alone in my cubicle on a Saturday, with all the stuff spread out around me- I have come across things like a small greeting card which my first team in the company gifted me on my birthday- a very pretty bracelet I once found on the dance floor- a gentle yet firm feather which I received as a souvenir from a shadow... All these are not things- they tell stories of my life back to me. They have brought a smile to my face even though some stories have ended and some stories will always go on. Needless to say- none of the things go to the trash can- instead they find a new place to hide in till I find them again...

What makes something dispensable in our life? How does one decide whether something is not needed anymore? We go along living our lives casting away things- living and non living. Does someone dispose off a memory because there is not enough space in drawers and cupboards? Does someone dispose off an intimate relation because there is not enough time in a busy life? I presume it is about priorities- so what is more important automatically gives someone the right to dispose off the less important things. Many a times these things are real people- but it is alright- because they are not important enough to someone anymore.

I guess that is what people mean when they say that they don't have space for a small card, or that they don't have time for a relationship. So they clean out and trash it away. Fair enough- at least they are clear about what they want. But then they crib about life not being fair to them- saying there have never been any moments worth cherishing. Someone just throws out a cherished moment and now there is a barren desert- or worse- a vaccum. I wonder- is this the price that someone pays for executing the so-called priority-based-clarity-of-thought. I will not pay this price. Will you? Are you like the someone from this post?