A Personal History In Objects
These are five short stories about five objects in my life that I treasure.
The Doodles
The drone of the teacher rang in my ears as she explained strange physics concepts to the class. Somewhere between the scratching of pens and the clicking of chalk on the board, my mind drifted off into another world. Pages flipped over and I found myself drawing on the worn out last page of my notebook. Lines turned into images, and images turned into stories. Whimsical drawings of giant headed babies with sparkling eyes, sunglass clad mafia men with cigars in their mouths, pretty faces of women with intricately doodled hair. Soon the page was full with drawings which had no connections with each other but at the same time told a story.
The Purple Dream Catcher
It was a cold but lively New Year’s Eve in Singapore, as I walked through the Christmas Market by Marina Bay. The night was lit up by the lights of the shops and the energy of the people. But within the myriad of clothes, accessories and food, what caught my attention were small dream catchers. Soft feathers, wafting in the wind, attached to a circular ring with colorful beads and sea shells. The purple one specifically drew me in though. Purple has always been my favorite color, to the point where I wanted a purple tooth as a kid. Not white, not even gold, but purple. Now that dream catcher has travelled the world with me, catching dreams and telling stories.
The Mug
A few days before moving to an alien city meant a lot of packing and hustle bustle in the house. Heavy suitcases were pulled out from the cupboard, check lists were sketched out and deadlines were set. My mom was determined not to miss even the tiniest item. In all of this mess, my dad handed me a mug. It was a plain white mug which had a picture of our family on it. Me, my dad, my mom and my dog (also known as my brother), together, smiling widely at the camera. It was a familiar picture that I associated with home. He said he had it specially made for me, to keep and use whenever I felt homesick. My mom hastily wrapped it up and tossed it in with the other things and barked at me to hurry up and finish packing.
The Wall Hanging
Bargaining was never my forte. But I sure tried my hand at it occasionally. One such instance happened to be on my trip to Rajasthan, a very culturally rich place in India, with my friends. On our rather spirited journey we decided to take a break at a small souvenir shop. A long, tiered and colorful wall hanging was what I had set my eye on. It had tiny elephants, delicately hand painted in green and pink, strung along with beads of different shapes and sizes. My bargaining session with the owner, who seemed like a man who’s word was final, didn’t go on for very long. So I left the store a few rupees poorer but rich with a part of their culture.
Tido
My fourth birthday wasn’t a usual one. Because instead of toys or clothes as gifts, I was given my new best companion. That’s when I saw him for the first time, all disoriented and confused amongst many others like him. He was a little ball of energy, running around with his ears bouncing and his coat glistening in the sun. His eyes shone with excitement and his little tail started wagging as he came up to me, and sniffed the biscuit in my hand. I named him Tido (like the last two notes in do re mi). He knocked over vases and chewed up the furniture. But I really didn’t mind because I had just found my new partner in crime.
