This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.
As kids me and my two elder siblings didn't have closets or drawers or fancy almirahs to keep our clothes in, we had boxes; or to use a more pleasing terms, suitcases.
Mine was a small black box which was of just the right size to hold all the colorful possessions of a one year old. We all have weird stories and tales of our childhood, mine was that I woke my mother from her sound and deep slumber each night at around two just to change my dress. No, I wasn't a nocturnal child but somehow the bodyclock of my tinier version was accustomed to waking up at that odd hour of the night just to satisfy my childish craze. And my poor kind mother never did refuse to fulfil her adamant child's weird wish.
As time rolled by and technology and development began to bloom in the country, we saw its impacts in our home too. For me, it was the shift from a black box to a Godrej Almirah that was strictly meant to shelter my belongings. I never let anybody open it without my permission and incase somebody did so while I was away at school, I'd found out about it the moment I returned home. My sister who was eight years older to me left for college at Delhi while I was still in fifth standard. And Delhi being so far away from home made it difficult for her to make trips home unless she had really long vacations like the summer break.
I wondered then, how could she pack her life in a box or trolly and just travel around!? I mean, I have a six foot tall almirah and that too isn't enough space for me to keep all my stuff which by the way is more precious to me than life itself. This girl here amazed me everytime she came home with her box of clothes and accessories. I finally concluded that may be she didn't love her stuff as much as I love mine. Perhaps, her clothes were simply pieces of fabric to be worn a couple of times and then discarded ( cause apparently my wardrobe was filled with the clothes that either didn't fit her or the ones she was tired of).
But years later, as I leave home for college now, I see that it's not always about clinging to your clothes or material possessions. Perhaps the way you maintain your wardrobe doesn't define your passion for your dreams. Life is afterall more than a ten year old's definition of love and passion.
Its been almost three months since I left home. My life too is now confined to a box. And coincidently, it's a black box again with only a variation in its size. As our college breaks for Puja and I pack my belongings into that box in anticipation and excitement of seeing my parents, siblings, relatives and friends after such a long gap, my heart pounds at a faster rate and the smile refuses to leave my face. I now realise what it must have been like for my sister back then, when she left for college in an unknown land and then came home to what's familiar.
As kids me and my two elder siblings didn't have closets or drawers or fancy almirahs to keep our clothes in, we had boxes; or to use a more pleasing terms, suitcases.
Mine was a small black box which was of just the right size to hold all the colorful possessions of a one year old. We all have weird stories and tales of our childhood, mine was that I woke my mother from her sound and deep slumber each night at around two just to change my dress. No, I wasn't a nocturnal child but somehow the bodyclock of my tinier version was accustomed to waking up at that odd hour of the night just to satisfy my childish craze. And my poor kind mother never did refuse to fulfil her adamant child's weird wish.
As time rolled by and technology and development began to bloom in the country, we saw its impacts in our home too. For me, it was the shift from a black box to a Godrej Almirah that was strictly meant to shelter my belongings. I never let anybody open it without my permission and incase somebody did so while I was away at school, I'd found out about it the moment I returned home. My sister who was eight years older to me left for college at Delhi while I was still in fifth standard. And Delhi being so far away from home made it difficult for her to make trips home unless she had really long vacations like the summer break.
I wondered then, how could she pack her life in a box or trolly and just travel around!? I mean, I have a six foot tall almirah and that too isn't enough space for me to keep all my stuff which by the way is more precious to me than life itself. This girl here amazed me everytime she came home with her box of clothes and accessories. I finally concluded that may be she didn't love her stuff as much as I love mine. Perhaps, her clothes were simply pieces of fabric to be worn a couple of times and then discarded ( cause apparently my wardrobe was filled with the clothes that either didn't fit her or the ones she was tired of).
But years later, as I leave home for college now, I see that it's not always about clinging to your clothes or material possessions. Perhaps the way you maintain your wardrobe doesn't define your passion for your dreams. Life is afterall more than a ten year old's definition of love and passion.
Its been almost three months since I left home. My life too is now confined to a box. And coincidently, it's a black box again with only a variation in its size. As our college breaks for Puja and I pack my belongings into that box in anticipation and excitement of seeing my parents, siblings, relatives and friends after such a long gap, my heart pounds at a faster rate and the smile refuses to leave my face. I now realise what it must have been like for my sister back then, when she left for college in an unknown land and then came home to what's familiar.
The excitement of not knowing what prospects lie in an unexplored land to the happiness of coming back to what's familiar and cosy, life is a mixture of all this hustle bustle and calm, this uncertainty and certainty. Forrest Gump's mum was right when she said that "Life is a box of chocolates, you never know what you're gonna get" but I can really not come up with a better analogy than this cause it all comes down to this box of clothes in life that takes one away for his/her dreams and brings him/her back for love, family and everything else. We age, we grow, we learn and in the process we relocate from our homes to rooms in hostels in unknown lands. Things change, our priorities change and all this while what remains constant is the one thing that I just said: Life is nothing but a box of clothes!
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