A Box of Memories
Sometimes people find miracles while being in dirt, and today I found a box. A small tin box, comfortably decades old with rust already began to invade territory of white coating of tin. At once, I remembered the box – last I saw it four years ago, that was the time when Taniya and I stayed together and she was pregnant with our first daughter. It was her box – I remembered what she said then, that it was a nest of her memories. My daughters are coming. Finally. Right from the moment of couple of years back, when I took this apartment on rent, not a single day had been passed when it didn’t occur to me that this place was inhospitable for them. My balcony was full of cartons filled with old stuffs - so was another spare room, where one wall was invisible by heap of cartons of different sizes filled with varied unnecessary goods. I primarily lived in my bedroom and kitchen, occasionally in sitting room and dining place. And in Delhi, dust is omnipresent – and in my apartment i...