Un-labelling.

I always put off writing something like this which was different to be categorised into the genre my blog always dealt with. It was crucial for me to categorise everything, it was imperative that I label everything I had- this drawer of the table is for studies, this drawer for all the stuff I find cute and interesting and special. I hated stuff that I never could put into these two categories, and I hated mixing them. It is not like I never wrote something personal or something close to my heart before, it is that I had felt guilty on all those occasions, I hated mixing the light hearted with the soul on my blog.

Then it began to blur. Boundaries. All sorts of boundaries and my very first taste of the realisation of the non-existence of a boundary was when I was doing my post-graduation- “mastering” the subject, they say. And I was amazed at how my subject’s boundaries just dissolved and all the science as I knew them merged into one, borrowing from one another, and inadvertently reminding me that nature never intended it to be different from another. Although I hated it, later I discovered that things which had a name, which had a label, which was easy to explain and uncomplicated had a certain feeling of security to it, owing to the certainity, but the unexplained things were also beautiful, they were in fact painfully beautiful, that it gave a sense of being out of this world, and it fought every effort everyone made to put them into one of those drawers. So here I am, mixing up the drawers in my blog to tell you about something which may or may not make any sense.

Imagine walking along a road, a road which had nothing of beauty to its name, a very ordinary or even dirty road, but which was made special by that person walking beside you. And you see something, something comical, and something very extra ordinary and unusual, something cute, and you both acknowledge that sight with a casual nod of the head, suddenly growing up and feeling childlike again at the same time. A third person, a soul, brought into your world that instant, which was an absolute photograph moment, and your mental camera captures it, tapes it and you play and replay it in your head, when passing by that street alone..

Imagine that last goodbye, which felt like ripping your tiny heart apart, from your best friend, that final hug and the strength you muster up to let go and see the person walking away. It can’t be an entirely painful memory, coz it was sweet, sweetened by the mystery, but it was also heart wrenching, it is instantaneous, and had absolutely no logic or reason attached to it.

Imagine fighting with a person so dear to you, saying stuff you never meant and momentarily realising you cannot tolerate each other anymore, and then meet up with that person the very next day, and feel the rush of affection and realising the strength of the bond you share..

Imagine someone way younger than you, but in many ways older than you, guiding you through every phase of life, steadily and loyally, from miles away, from another part of the world, but giving you an impression of always being there, a constant, a fixture in space and time which you can go back to whenever you felt like it..

People . Those in my life, those in other people’s lives which brushed my life with their warmth and uniqueness. People I met, and people I found out.

Things, things I picked up from here and there, a fragment of a blue balloon, a railway platform ticket, a book, a tissue paper with a chocolate smudge and a million dollar lyrics on it.

Memories- of a cold dark night of power cut you spent laughing till your stomachs hurt, with a bong chick, a modern chick, a naadan chick and an irritating chick. Memories of standing on a sideway ice cream place, with a vulgar name, singing old Hindi songs aloud. Memories of walking along the road talking and hi-fiving, hitting each other, making train sounds, conch sounds, through a highway, out of breath, carrying a balloon, the best birthday ever.

A blog which has seen your worst, which has stored your insane thoughts in the drafts folder, carefully hidden and waiting patiently for you to come into terms with the memories and then delete it or publish it. A blog which actually gave me everything I now put in the drawer “Unlabelled”

For my c.o.f.rs. this post, keeping up with my promise that I’ll keep blogging.

For a task of unlabelling.

For me. A post.

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