Memorabilia...

I'm struck by a sudden urge to change the blog title to "Memorabilia." The reason is as simple as this space being an integral part of an indelible memory.

I log in to unload my waves of thoughts, both conscious and unconscious, often onto drafts. But today, a profound wave washes ashore, and the intensity of this post may be shallow or non-existent—only because it's Sunday, and, well, I'm feeling a tad lazy!

Once, I held you in my mind for the longest time, and now, I'm setting you free.

People recall their first love or first kiss; sometimes, those memories fade. Some choose not to cling on, while others find it impossible to let go. Life-changing decisions often hinge on "can" or "cannot." Memory, at times, is like a weed beneath the snow—seemingly lifeless, yet existing. But as the snow melts in spring, it comes crawling back to life.

I find myself in a relationship with a memory—from the summer of 1998. I was a ten-year-old, clutching an abridged version of Charles Dickens, a gift from an uncle who chose literature over toys. Back when I was eight, I possessed only four fairy tale books, my sole treasures. (I admit, it's a bit embarrassing.) 

Yet, there's something magical; I still feel ten when the book is in my hands at the age of 26. Whimsical, isn't it?

Embarking on a journey, clutching the first book that might alter everything in this moment. An e-book in my hand, "Sputnik Sweetheart."

You're words, You are every book you have read and every book you will read. You are your thoughts rummaging through your veins in your brain. You're the green-blue veins that try to peek through your skin. You are unconsciously the first day of the spring and the last day of the cold. You are the dawn and you are the star that twinkles bright. You are a moment, fleeting wildly into oblivion but you are an abstract idea in someone's head. You're a realization. You are the distance between imagination and reality. You are probably an Art put forth on a canvas or moulded into a poesy. You're the seed and the memory, just the weed.

While you're reading this, you are somewhere inside my head waiting through the end of the last line.

This is a memory.

A heart-shaped fluke?

I've crossed my heart.

Exactly 1 year 5 months 17 days, it happened, and what left me more dumbstruck then was,  it was Valentine's.
At 10 am, I settled in for my morning coffee, and as customary, my companions, my birdies, gathered around. Inadvertently, with their mischief, a small spill occurred on the ground, and to my astonishment, it took the shape of a heart. I realised I should document it, so I went to fetch my phone, but my phone was shut. I grabbed a piece of cloth and blotted the coffee: translated on the cloth, just as it was spilled and I could photograph it.

But, what happened next will be etched in my memory forever.  Same day while returning home from college, we were walking on the bridge and it was raining and I was narrating the morning incident–my heart-shaped discovery. Her reaction was – so what? She later confessed she didn't believe me (she thinks I am overdramatic and my every reaction is dramatic [-_-]. And not more than 30 seconds later, my right foot got stuck in a puddle on the bridge, under the lamp light, and the puddle was heart-shaped! I screamed there, oblivious of where we were. That was only when she started believing me. My blabbering had started making some sense to her.

A series of stumbling upon them continued, ranging from finding a heart shape on a plum to developing heart shapes on my stationery. Those rubber bands tangled as heart-shaped have been the most occurred instances. I kept wondering why this was happening – the more I wondered, the more occurrences happened.

Till a point I ignored them and believed they were accidental. What was most magical was that, whenever I spilled water or something with no intention of finding a heart shape, it turned into one only to remind me I was wrong. I tried to capture each of these symbols because I believe in them. I do for some inexplicable reason.

I believe in them as signs from the universe, trying to tell me something and guide me through. But what?!

Maybe not, maybe it's all in my head.

I lost most of those pictures due to the disk damage. As if all these happening weren't enough: last month I went on a hike with an intention of experiencing peace and silence at the top of the hill.
On my way down, I serendipitously found this!

A heart-shaped stone. I had to take a picture of it first before picking it up.

I picked it up, wrapped it in a tissue paper and slipped it in my backpack.

And then today, I was lazily looking at the glitter polish left behind. A clear coat over my thumb took a heart shape, and its so minute. I'm wonderstruck how did I even spot it. That's another story.
I stressed my brain to try and link things, whether I did something, carved or not. Because this is phenomenal.

No point in denying that it's not heart-shaped.

My parents think I'm crazy. My sister thinks I'm stupid and T says it's nothing.

I'm on and off believing these signs. I'm at my wits end, trying to figure out what it means.
But I think it has more wisdom to it than it appears, since it didn't stop even then. These kept appearing. Over me, around me, all around me.

Some might think it's foolish, some might believe it's crazy.
I secretly believe it's whimsical.

And I believe, some days or years from now on, I will know why.

A Dandelion dream...

I had imagined...I'd woken up too soon.

A Dandelion Dream.

Sometimes we hope too fervently, losing grasp of reality. Sometimes we dream too deeply, losing touch with wakefulness. 

I had always believed our meeting was fated, as was my acquaintance with a part of you. A stranger yet familiar, you stood by me when I needed upliftment. Drawing out my best, you brought a smile to my lips with every meeting.

But beyond merely being present, you taught me that life resides in fleeting moments slipping through time's grasp. Through you, I discovered hope, realizing that falling in love is as wondrous as birth itself, reshaping oneself through another's eyes.

~

I decided to depict one of my favourite scenes (The garden scene from Notting Hill, that one, just before the song starts playing) with a bith of fiction, but somehow I ended up writing this. I couldn't. Maybe I like it too much to be imprisoned in mere words...

Forgotten

I wrapped a few words, choicest.
enveloped them in a paper.
I wish you'd read them someday
feelings. I felt once, now forgotten.