And this is the post where I write something that symbolizes the end of one year and the beginning of another; for my blog, that is. So, keeping in tandem with all the clichés I should be writing about… reminiscences maybe, or hope;
laughter and gratitude even; or maybe an account of my escapades during the year (like I did last year). Well, I’m not much of a cliché-lover apart from the ones that mention chocolate as the OTHER food group, and the ones that describe the moon as the most beautiful thing on a lonely night, and…well…a little more somethings. 😛 So, I spent a good part of the posts Q to X thinking of what I should recount at this joyous occasion (for me) and also at a time when the world is gearing up for a rather festive time of the year! Cliché dictates that reminiscing is the best bet; you could never go wrong with it. And it seems pretty apt at this time of the year, because if you went on a recollection spree in May that wouldn’t hold much of weight, would it? A detailed account of the year is what everyone is making. Some for want of an article to fill, some to revel in honey-glazed memories and a rather miniscule portion to reassure their conscious self that they won’t make the same mistakes in the forthcoming year! Reminiscing is the word of the week baby! Haven’t you seen the papers infested with articles on the Top 3 films of the year (yeah, that’s an imaginary one) and the Worst 152 Films of this year (that’s real) and the Top 453 Scams of the year (do I have to tell you if it’s real or not?); so on and so forth? You’ve been hounded by them, haven’t you? So, I’ll spare you the horror. I’ll tell you a little bit about my cupboard instead. Why? Oh well, I fancy to!
I have a small cupboard. I got it custom made for myself. It’s not fancy. It’s a humble storage unit. It holds a lot of things that make me, me. It’s got everything from my books to my clothes to old letters to bags to jewellery to mugs to birthday gifts and much more. It’s a small one that holds a lot of things. And the moment you open it (no, nothing falls out) you can see a lot of colour. All kinds of things stacked in their own snug spaces with the big space. There is a
place for everything in it. (And more often than not, everything is in its place.)There are blue, green, and yellow books; purple, white, and green clothes; black, white, and a sunshine coloured bag; birthday-coloured mugs and a brown frame; an old diary, photographs, tea-coloured letters, crayons, a colouring book, bangles (lots of them) and scattered papers that I write small nothings on.
Not only things, my cupboard also has a lot of stories in it. Lots of them! It has lots of smiles, some tears tucked away, many hysterical anecdotes staring at you, some treasures, and lots of silver coloured endings tied with ribbons. I clean my cupboard every weekend to make sure everything is in order. I HAVE to make sure that everything is in its place. I don’t like it when it’s in a mess. Moreover, I hate it when anyone touches it. I get frantic. I can’t stand it. Also, I never throw anything out to make space for new things I need to keep. I make place for a new thing, but not at the expense of throwing an old one out. I am very possessive about everything I keep in my cupboard. I love those things. They belong to me.
My life is like my cupboard. And the people in my life are like the things in it.
A little more metaphor in my life…
She walked up the stairs and stood outside the room. The door was closed. It had been closed for quite some time now. A long time, perhaps. She couldn’t be quite sure. She turned the door knob and pushed open the door. Dust
greeted her. The room was bare. As empty as it had been left. And unattended in absence. It was lonely till she entered it. A damp smell and shadows welcomed her. She looked at the walls; still bearing resemblance to the paint she once plastered it with. The window was closed. Cobwebs had settled on the corners of the window. Sunlight was barred thanks to the curtains; worn out curtains. Little rays looked eager to push through the holes in the worn-out fabric. She had closed the window on her way out; she remembered. She shut the shine out. She looked at the empty photo frame hanging on the wall behind her. And with one hard push she opened the window. Sunlight streamed into the room and flooded it.
She didn’t blink.
And that is how she opened her heart to greater joys that day.
And with one push I bring sunshine in my life every time, the room gets dark enough. Sure, it does get dark enough at times and I fall. But a lot of things pick me up. More often than not, it’s my metaphorical cupboard. I also pick myself up. Of late, I’ve been hearing a lot of the “Life’s tough” dialogues and its variants. I just want to sign off this year saying, yes, life tough; but getting up when you fall is also life!
For me, my blog is a symbol of getting up every time I fall.
Happy Getting-up-every-time-I-fall to me.
And a happy 2nd birthday to my blog!
A warm thank you to my Guest Writers: Dhanya Palani, Karen Sonia Aranha,
Uma Aiyer, Divya Srinivasan, Kavita Iyer, Navraj Shubham, Shradha Aiyer, Samir Alam, Maulika Hegde, Sandhya Radhakrishnan, Dhanesh Gandhi, Ayesha Borker, Nikhil Rao, Sudhir Sekharan, Fayesal Siddiqui, Hardik Kothare, and Rajiv Iyer. I couldn’t have ‘recited’ the English alphabet on my blog without you guys!!!
Thanks a ton! 🙂 🙂 🙂
Sincere thanks to everyone who has been reading. Well, the readers maketh a blog. 😉
Happy 2011 to everyone!!
Cheers!! To many more ‘rising’ occasions in 2011.