By Aditya Sadashiv
If you open the steel cupboard, in the bedroom,
The brown one, near the wall?
The one you and Papa share?
Yes, It’ll be a little hard to spot me,
behind a pile of Papa’s neatly ironed shirts,
and a piles of your oversized T-shirts and denims.
Did you find me yet?
Folded, not pressed, staring at the steel ceiling?
Its good to see you, Master…
Eight long years have passed, yes,
I have bid farewell to my other half, the trousers
and my mate who hung around me, the tie….
Papa’s clothes haven’t contributed to conversations as much,
and I don’t relate to you, my master’s clothes much!
Ha.. and what irony!
So I did immerse myself in the happenings,
in the silence, in the events of the house.
Now that I am out,
You do look well, in health…
Definitely grown out of me….
A little different, fine cues of maturity in your mannerisms!
Now, do look, at those unpressed wrinkles,
those wrinkles, that still carry the euphonies,
of memories,
of the last day of high school, of the last afternoon of high school.
Turn me around, where the faded names in ink are still etched,
The names to whom you promised to stay in touch forever….
Life happened, and promises were forgotten,
they stayed on me, they never faded,
however hard Ma brushes me!
Did you see the pocket yet?
The one that carried the school emblem and…. your hesitations?
the hesitations and longing inside a letter?
Ha….I remember how you trembled, with me on,
as you handed her the letter….
her subtle smile of silent acceptance and the conversations.
How is everything now?
See, how my wrinkles still bear the anxiety
of the first love, of all the examinations,
and how my neck, your collar, the perch for the tie…
has the sports day dirt still lingering on it…
and how my neck narrowly missed having
a gold medal perch on it…..
again… no matter how hard Ma brushes me!
Let me also tell you, while I laid still,
I could sense some light now and then,
I could hear some conversations of the house now and then,
the noise of the dilemma of choice between science and commerce,
the faint resent in the words of Papa being undervalued at work,
The grave conversations between Pa and Ma about stringent finances,
in the cursed pandemic….
from your desperate pleas for the trip to Goa to the adamant rejections by Ma!
To the silent cries of self doubt that dissolved in the stillness of those nights…
those long nights of preparation of those entrance tests.
Well I’ve heard them all, I’ve seen them all,
I owe the chances to my home, the cupboard’s rusty door
yes, the doors that never closed fully, the one that was never repaired.
I see that you took a sniff…
Your scent persisted on me seven years ago….
now I smell of countless memories and unspoken and unbothered thoughts,
Well, I want to converse more,
but I see that you are calling out Ma….
there is a smile on your face, and you are asking how long have I been in there….
Oh! How delighted would I be to be a part of your ‘Memoirs Container’,
Ah.. Papa’s old suitcase! That’s what this is now…
the certificates, the undelivered letters, the unread poems, the photographs,
….oh you did go to Goa!
and….the trousers, the tie?….
They are here!
A incidental reunion I suppose!
Supposedly the reunion that I longed for…
I believe I found a new home.
A permanent residence, part of someone’s memoirs…
part of the household, the family…
My home would no longer be quiet..
There would be a lot to talk about now…
Now I see Master closing the suitcase,
And I avidly settle myself and get ready,
for cherishing being a memoir for an eternity.