Now I
have it; now I don't.
The art
& science of losing, dropping and without her. I started very young, you see!
I am
equally adept at losing liquid assets. I
drop money at the drop of a hat. I do feel awful, cringe, promise myself to be
more careful in the future, kick myself
for being so careless, but if you think I don't repeat, you have another
think coming. What is worse is that I get over it and move on, much to my own
dismay! However, when it comes to silliest and stupidest of things, I get
hopelessly sentimental and foolishly emotional about every scrap of paper,
fabric, book, strand of wool, paint, pen, pencil, slippers from my son's
college, little gifts/notes received from my children or a mug I may have
picked up for home, so you can imagine at how deep the pain of losing stuff is for
me. My heart bleeds; I feel as if it's end of the world; I just cannot
live without. I cannot bring myself to forget. I bemoan the loss every time the
memory comes aflutter. I'm incurable.
I could
create a mini directory if I were to record each and everything that I have
lost in life, every place that I have ever lived in, some advert; some inadvertently, because others did not value it as much and did not empathize
with my sentiments - that they are my security blankets; give me a sense of
well-being; familiar stuff that grows old along with you is comforting.
Like, my correspondence journal which I maintained
ever since I discovered the joy of writing letters from the age of 8 - all of
its 5000+ neatly indexed mail exchanged between practically every living
relative, friend, friend's friend and acquaintance of mine replete with catalogued
reminders in case of any unexpected delay. For me, it formed the most precious part of my
trousseau, notwithstanding my little aluminium school case containing my
sketches, poems and writing. And, then
it was gone, forever! Just like that.
Or, when,
my wool, paintings, sketches, products, books, suitcase full of old & new
outfits, savings, jewellery, hand-knitted stuff being prepared for exhibition
went out for reasons unknown.
Dropped
$40 I had on me while waiting for a bus at 5.30 am in -30 degrees; looked at
the watch and thought wisely that getting a cab would be more sensible as it
would save me time to locate my destination on the first day at my first job in
a new country (Canada); hailed one, only to realize that I no longer had any
cash on me. First, I had to let the fact sink in. Second step was to convince
the cabbie of the truth in my seemingly coined (pun intended) tale to get a
free ride. To say that I panicked would
be putting it mildly. Third, I had to figure a way to pay the tab. I ended up borrowing money from the boss himself. Not
to mention, that I first had to go around enquiring as to who was my boss was,
quickly introduce myself, and then burst out with my made-up sounding story,
asking for loan, promising to return the next day, all in one breath. The fact
that my new boss, did loan me $ 40 to pay off the cabbie was not out of any
compassion, sympathy or understanding the gravity of the situation. It was more
because he was too bewildered, taken aback, stopped mid-track by a rambling,
panic-stricken, hysterical Indian woman, when he was so preoccupied setting out
schedules for the newly hired.
Another
time, I took a local bus to go out on an errand. As always, I
checked the
stops, bus nos., timings,
online at home and made notes in my little diary before stepping out. I had to change a bus en route. My transit stop came. I got out in the middle of nowhere. It was freezing, but that was not the only cause why I stood frozen for the next 10 minutes. There was a feeling of Deja Vu. I had forgotten my bag with all my cards, money and my so painstakingly prepared notes in the bus. There was not a soul in sight. The sky was threatening to open up any minute and soak me up. To add to my plight, I had no clue about my whereabouts. Marvelling at my sheer talent once again, I did some thinking. I crossed the road and stood at the stop for a bus coming from the other side. One finally did arrive. You have to give it to the country. The bus driver contacted the terminus, enquired, yes there was a bag fitting my description left in the bus, the driver was traced, the lost and found department tracked down while I stood there cringing. I was told to stay put there. A bus would come in one hour with my bag.
online at home and made notes in my little diary before stepping out. I had to change a bus en route. My transit stop came. I got out in the middle of nowhere. It was freezing, but that was not the only cause why I stood frozen for the next 10 minutes. There was a feeling of Deja Vu. I had forgotten my bag with all my cards, money and my so painstakingly prepared notes in the bus. There was not a soul in sight. The sky was threatening to open up any minute and soak me up. To add to my plight, I had no clue about my whereabouts. Marvelling at my sheer talent once again, I did some thinking. I crossed the road and stood at the stop for a bus coming from the other side. One finally did arrive. You have to give it to the country. The bus driver contacted the terminus, enquired, yes there was a bag fitting my description left in the bus, the driver was traced, the lost and found department tracked down while I stood there cringing. I was told to stay put there. A bus would come in one hour with my bag.
I
should be kicked for this, but now that my bag was found, I decided to rejoice
in the winter rain for the next hour. And true to his word, a bus with a 'not
in service' sign came to a halt, asked me to step inside and have a seat. The driver apologized for my long
wait, requested me to check my contents, and wished a nice evening ahead. Job
done, bus did a u-turn and drove away. They took pains to find out, retrieve,
drive an empty bus for 10 kms to give me my bag, for which I should have been
actually spanked.
Now,
once aboard a Toronto-bound flight, I made myself snug and cozy. I had an
enjoyable, relaxing flight - read, dined & napped. The voice of the
stewardess announcing, "hope your flight was an enjoyable one" woke
me up. I gathered my belongings, tied the ends of my new camel-coloured jacket
smartly around my neck, picked up my magazines, rolled my baggage, disembarked,
queued up for customs, and stepped out into the fresh Toronto air. Reached my
apartment. Untied my jacket only to realise that the camel-coloured fabric
around my neck had not the remotest semblance to a jacket whatsoever. It was
the airline blanket instead. Do you
think, the curious stares I got from the crew, airport staff and the cabbie had
anything to do with this? Needless to mention, being the same colour, I
picked up the blanket instead of my jacket on my way out. Had it smartly tied
around my neck for the next 5 hours without realizing anything amiss.
Shelling
peanuts while waiting for a metro, then chucking the token instead of peanut
shell in the bin, cost me Rs 85 to get out.
Going
by my past record, I should be hanging everything around my neck.
Whiz at
making receipts, bills, dry-cleaning receipts disappear from the face of the
earth. Depositing my bags and forget to collect them; if I do remember then
unable to find the token. I have spent half of my life losing & finding stuff. I could go on and on...
