Women are not only born with a higher emotional quotient, rather with time they keep adding to their emotional baggage. Baggage, literally. From the tender age of may be 4 or 5 they start adding importance to millions of even inanimate stuff. It may be their first ‘good’ in class. Or the first paper boat. Pencil shavings. The first Barbie. Birthday candles. Ribbons. Frocks. Envelopes. Leaves. It may all seem useless. But dare you tell her. Ask her. Each of it has a long story and significance. And she’ll tell you with great enthusiasm. She’ll tell you with a heavy heart. She is missing that moment, even now, big time.
I spoke to my friend who was getting married in two days. She was packing her bags. It even included the new tooth-brush, new comb. Blah. Everything new! Got me laughing. I discussed it with my mom who by current standards was prematurely married. She said every li’ll or big thing is new. While the world is dancing and screaming, as soon as she steps into the new house, her gut is wrenching. She’s scared. She’s apprehensive.
She’s missing the old. Her family. Her friends. The child inside her. Her innocence. Her box. Her box of those wrappers, cards, bindis, pics of her dream heroes. She couldn’t have carried it to her new house. It would almost be abused of being some junk. And it may seem small. But it isn’t! My mom had this box too. I was shocked. You always expect your parents to be so mature. She said it so sweetly. Her wooden box with a million things. For a long time she would go back and check it in her old cupboard in her mom’s house. And the kid would feel nice. Then time passed. Houses passed. People passed. And guess today she remembered it for the first time after so long! I stupidly asked, ma where is that box..
In medical school we are often taught when a child first cries, smiles, recognizes parents, coos and babbles. But we haven’t been taught when a girl child realizes that she will go through something called ‘marriage’. That she belongs to the species that shifts base. May be the fact sinks rather late in life or she wouldn’t have made her box so huge n heavy.
Am in that age too, you know, where someone may appear anytime and fly me off to distant lands. Cool as it may seem, it does make me become a li’ll too protective and insecure about my stuff. Daddy’s letter’s, cards from friends all over the place, mementos of first dates, pre-digital pics. I may never have an autobiography but these things are the hard evidence of my happy eventful lifetime of 25 yrs. I so hope I am able to keep them safe forever!
I spoke to my friend who was getting married in two days. She was packing her bags. It even included the new tooth-brush, new comb. Blah. Everything new! Got me laughing. I discussed it with my mom who by current standards was prematurely married. She said every li’ll or big thing is new. While the world is dancing and screaming, as soon as she steps into the new house, her gut is wrenching. She’s scared. She’s apprehensive.
She’s missing the old. Her family. Her friends. The child inside her. Her innocence. Her box. Her box of those wrappers, cards, bindis, pics of her dream heroes. She couldn’t have carried it to her new house. It would almost be abused of being some junk. And it may seem small. But it isn’t! My mom had this box too. I was shocked. You always expect your parents to be so mature. She said it so sweetly. Her wooden box with a million things. For a long time she would go back and check it in her old cupboard in her mom’s house. And the kid would feel nice. Then time passed. Houses passed. People passed. And guess today she remembered it for the first time after so long! I stupidly asked, ma where is that box..
In medical school we are often taught when a child first cries, smiles, recognizes parents, coos and babbles. But we haven’t been taught when a girl child realizes that she will go through something called ‘marriage’. That she belongs to the species that shifts base. May be the fact sinks rather late in life or she wouldn’t have made her box so huge n heavy.
Am in that age too, you know, where someone may appear anytime and fly me off to distant lands. Cool as it may seem, it does make me become a li’ll too protective and insecure about my stuff. Daddy’s letter’s, cards from friends all over the place, mementos of first dates, pre-digital pics. I may never have an autobiography but these things are the hard evidence of my happy eventful lifetime of 25 yrs. I so hope I am able to keep them safe forever!
