Pictures of us looking like rag dolls...in tiny shorts and unkempt hair. Stuff that I had on my study table. Looking back I realise that I ALWAYS loved fashion. There are these awesome pics that I have cut out from phoren magazines bought from shankar market. They reminded me of the lovely collage I had made for Chetan while passing out from school. How much he got ragged in IIT coz every one wanted to know who this girl was...as a true artist I had left a big signature on it.
I have my favourite Jeans in the box. I bought that pair from FU's. In good old days that was the ONLY cool store in south extension. My jeans were torn...two massive gashed in them, patched with star and stripes. I loved those jeans. I wore them when I won Miss Fresher Hostel along with D. It was and will remain my favourite pair for life.
I also have my mama's denim jacket. I had stolen it from him. Cut it up...and made the dhobi wash it so much that threads were hanging from all over...and it was completely washed out. In those days denims were to be really washed out. I was so fond of that jacket. I am also so glad that I kept it, coz now that he is no more...its even more precious to me.
The memory box also had this Mat made by my Granny and me. We had made it from strips of left over plastic bags and knit them into a lovely mat. That is the mat that D used to sit on every night, while makin tea or maggie for the gang. It was her favourite mat and dare any one else sit on it!! I pulled out the mat from the box and it was frayed from the edges...the lovely recycled plastic bag mat.
The most important bit that came out was Anna's mini skirt. I remember she had given it to me very proudly while I was leaving home. She wore it at Miranda House Hostel when she was there as a student and then deemed fit to pass it on to her daughter on going to her college. I wore that short short skirt so much in MHH that its all faded now. Maybe if I ever have a daughter I will pass it on to her...till then it will sit in my memory box.
Last but not least came out my diary...I had written this poem on passing out of MHH. Here goes...
Ode to MirandaRed brick walls
old teak wood doors
a room meant for 2
it all looked so dead
the first time
I saw u MHH..
after 3 long years
sheltered in the
L- shaped rooms
I realised it wasn't
a dead, lifeless building
It was a place where
I grew, matured, made best friends
learnt to care, to give
to take & be what I am
now I feel the need
to sat THANK YOU
for making me who I will be tomorrow
I LOVE YOU MIRANDA
3rd OCT 1994
Isn't it strange that we only get the first 20 yrs of our life to be innocently young. Based on those very 20 years we spend the next 50 odd years. Every thing that we do, behave, think, act, desire is based on those very formative years. We then proceed to spend the next ENTIRE life time enacting that behaviour. I often look back and draw strength from what I was then and find the will to move on. Looking back I was priceless...
Seed for thought for the ageless mind?!!