It's not exactly spring-time, not even to the most optimistic souls who would perceive living in this oven a way of experiencing 'sunshine' and the 'pretty' things that come with.
But it's cleaning time. THAT it is. Thanks to a the entire physical space of my house being repainted/whitewashed/ other things I don't know how to name, I have had to re-arrange all my things. And, I mean ALL.
There is a lot left to do. I wouldn't call this the real 'cleaning', but thought i'd post little something anyway.
I had all my stuff around on the floor and thats when it hit me, how I save the strangest things. I refuse to part with my college books. Reasons being many. I regret not having all of them and it's not like i used them too much in college, but there is so much economics inside them. I just can't give them away. So there lies that pile reminding me, I have a subject to get back to and theories to some day, uncover.
After more than a month, I finally opened the carton containing my well, almost recent life inside it. Out came notebooks, projects and sheets of paper filled with absolutely unnecessary content that have flown all the way from Bombay to Dilli- with me (and some with my father, because I had way too much luggage). As I opened my notebooks, I could see that movie flash before me- the kind they all talk about. Honestly, I did not have the courage to go through those notebooks. I am afraid every page has memory with it. You know the thing is, I will never part with these because this is knowledge. But, my reasons for attachment go far beyond that in this particular case. Every little page has a memory of the other things we did during class. The day I really open those books, I'll put up a LONG post here. I know it. But not now. Not tonight. Now is not the time to go through that carton in entirety. Now is the time to hold myself together and move on. So there lies a collection of sheets reminding me that once upon a time I had to run away in order to stop running away.
Out of some hidden corner of my house, came my little box of letters. Just when I was about to open this, I discovered yet another box of letters ans my packet full of cards. Considering I did not have the courage to go through my notebooks of last year, these letters seemed like herculean task, to say the very least. I still went ahead and read one though. You know what I asked myself? What are the bloody odds! This letter happened to be from the only person I would have wanted to carry with me from my school in New Delhi. A letter summing up 6 years of a friendship that was my school life. 6 years of a friendship that ended and how. You know what sucks? It still hurts. So there is one packet, 2 boxes and a little slam book reminding me of the person I used to be.
My biggest learning? Don't save stuff if you will not go back to it later. If you do however go back to it, try being happy for once. If you are someone who associates the very word 'memory' to pain and a certain sense of morbidness that you will later pass onto your blog, then just bloody avoid accumulating so many of them.
Oh and there's one more thing, being emotionally cautious and guarded is not a recent phenomenon for me, it turns out. Infact, I used to be worse, or I've learnt to hide it better. Its uncanny, how the most important relationships in my life end the same way. Well almost. They don't really end, but they never stay the same. I hate it when that happens. I wouldn't tell you but I do.
Right, there's one last thing- Weekends in this city give people a lot of time to think. Not good. Not good at all for me.