Sentimental Memories

Its surprising to note things people often hold on to. Today, I carelessly let loose a laugh when I saw my 50 yr old Vice President tuck back the sleek 80Gb external drive he had lent me into what appeared to be a small hand purse. A second later I asked him if it belonged to his mom. He embarassedly admitted to it. The purse was obviously old, but he treasured it even after so many years. The child inside never dies; although in his case I may claim that it never grew up.

I admit that I am no better. I was changing schools. I had acquired a friend who was a class senior in the same school. She was crest-fallen to learn that I would not be able to traverse the long distance to and fro everyday. So, as a parting gift she gave me a miniature lampshade with a porcelain dog with mourning droop eyes, under which it reads 'I Miss You'. This was 13 years ago. It was my reading lamp when I lived in my attic room. It came down after I finished school to sit pretty as a night lamp with a dull luminosity. It has now followed me to Bangalore, where it cast a radiant light in my bedroom to help me paint my lips, gel my hair, read books, find a lost lens. Strangely enough, we have not kept in touch. I lost contact with her within a couple of years. Once I bumped into her when I went for a meeting in MTV in Mumbai, but the conversation did not progress further from niceties. Her name was Meghana. I vaguely recollect her face, round and innocent. She'd shed tears on hearing of my departure. And I, I just hadn't kept in touch. This is so me; meeting people like gems, but I just let them slip off from my fingers, never turning back look at them.