I had a
scrapbook made out of a discarded diary, which had a zipper bag that came along
with it, during my school days. It held a collection of quotes, poems, favorite
songs, beautiful sceneries, photos of my favorite bollywood actors/actresses
and even newspaper cutouts of any interesting news that caught my eye. I
remember keeping in it feathers of birds, lovely stamps, matchbox covers,
chocolate covers and other baubles. Dried flowers and leaves too found a safe
haven inside my scrapbook.
There was
no order and no index as to what was inside the book. Therefore, every time I opened it, which would
be once in every few weeks to add a new treasure, my own collection would
pleasantly surprise and cheer me up. After a while, the bug of poetry bit me
and I started to add my own poems to my collection. I would doodle on pieces of paper and keep it
inside for safekeeping. It was literally my very own treasure house of
memories.
Last summer
when I visited home, I found it again, safely tucked inside the locker of my
cupboard, beneath a few old clothes. I spent hours going through the contents
and some items brought tears into my eyes. Some were reminiscent of carefree
and happy days while some others reminded me of the much confusion that a young
schoolgirl might have gone through. Some reminded me of old friends, crushes
and hobbies. Notes written in longhand in some pages, reminded me of my
ambitions, my ideals. The dried flowers reminded me of the gardens where they
had originated from. The hollering owners of the gardens from where I had
stolen them were now long gone, but the dried flowers had survived the ravages
of time.
Inside the
pouch was also an autograph book, which had the messages from my school mates
scribbled in haste on the last working day of school. Many of them are still my
friends but some who were close to me then are no longer a part of my world
now. Time had brandished its sword and cut the cord of connection between
them and me.
These days,
I no longer keep a scrapbook for memories. I prefer to relish the present
moments and make them memorable by taking photos that I safely store into
electronic storage devices. I keep multiple copies. And when I am bored, I go
through my memory collection and relive those fine moments which had been
captured and frozen in time.
My blog too
have become my online scrapbook where I keep on adding pieces of my creativity
and vignettes from the present or a forgotten past.
It's a nice blog post!! I can very well understand the level of association that one can have with these inanimate treasurers of memories.. They speak more than any living being..
ReplyDeleteYes Swati Sarangi. They become a treasure and we value them more than anything. Thanks for reading.
ReplyDeleteOld scrapbooks do hold a lot of memories. I feel the same when I find an old book and go through it .
ReplyDeleteHi Pallavi, welcome back to my blog after so long. Glad to have you here.
DeleteScrapbooks are always magical.
Such a wonderful and smooth read...a very nice post indeed, taking us down the memory lanes.
ReplyDeleteThanks for reading Susmit. Glad you liked it.
DeleteHi Preethi :)
ReplyDeleterecently discovered your blog and enjoyed reading.. :)
Hence thought of tagging you in my post http://crispingcanary.blogspot.in/2014/12/neel-and-his-priorities.html .. request you to write a post on the topic of grooming, acknowledging my tag in the end! (details about the topic and how to do it are here: http://blog.blogadda.com/2014/12/01/willyoushave-grab-opportunities-earn-unlimited but if you have any questions, pls drop me a line and I will be happy to help)
Tomo is the last day so will be happy if we can do this together - both of us can win cash and vouchers!
Thanks and happy new year :)
Done check here http://tulipsandme.blogspot.in/2014/12/terror-before-christmas.html
Deleteyour post reminded me, my childhood days when i used to collect old coins and i still have some of those in my box.
ReplyDeleteWe all do have some or the other thing to remind us of those happy days, don't we? I believe such things add colour to our life.
DeleteThanks for reading, Dohit.