The pages of a notebook moistened. The soft-board in her room got devoid of its postings. The book shelves stood there- as a standing reminder of what made her into this eighteen year old- with inescapable passions in the skin and countless dilemmas at hand. The girl who still cries at seeing her father hugging his sister after years. The girl who tries to find beauty in the dingiest of places.
The girl who stood in her room and glared at each and every inanimate object in her room which symbolized something or the other; be it the handmade photo frame her friends gave her as a birthday present- a symbol of the warmth and love she received from her hometown or the trophies- that seem so relatively futile in the grander scheme of things. Be it the posters on the cupboard or the pen holder that held pens that didn’t write what they should’ve written and sometimes wrote with such zeal that those moments still beckon her. Be it the school planner that contained dates of the past year- her last year in school. The dates that were encircled and awaited. The dates that decided so much. The dates and events on that very planner- which looked ordinary on paper, turned out to be overwhelming and extraordinary in practical life.
All these tangible things that held intangible meanings.
The eyes of the parents welled up. The bed in her room prepared to sleep alone for months at a stretch. The pillow wouldn’t have tears that were spilled over the night, the curtains would be more often than not, drawn.
She was dazed at the swiftness of things. At the different phase awaiting her. The country capital waiting to either cradle her in her lap or sucking her in its maelstrom. She didn’t know how to feel about it- it was a feeling she couldn’t shake off. It was a perpetual state of confusion, anxiety and the fear of being lost amidst so many faces. This feeling was like a faucet leaking, perpetually tiring, arduous and fatiguing. This feeling is also like buying a new book- another kind of adrenaline rush. The longing for new moments to be added to the calendar in her mind. The yearning for the addition of knowledge- of gaining an education that brings her closer to her mission. The inexplicable churning in her heart that intensifies every time she thinks about going from the familiar to the oblivion.
All these tangible things held intangible meanings.
Metaphors are yet to be explained.
Songs are yet to be written.
Places are yet to be explored.
Faces are yet to be gazed at.
Art is yet to be made.
Photographs are yet to be captured.
Hearts are yet to be broken- and mended.
Suitcases are yet to be filled- and emptied.
Life is yet to be lived- and forgiven.