I spy with my little eye

Here I am, sitting at my desk. I've just chased dad away from the computer. And I'm looking at the desk. This desk which is supposed to be cleared out before the weekend(mum's orders).

Every single thing I look at over here has some special meaning to me. Like my old cell phone. I've stopped using it since the antenna broke (or something. It doesn't detect any network now) But I got it as a present from my gran for my 18th birthday. Plus it's filled with all those text messages between me and my ex. The first one is from deepavali last year. Something about how she's too frightened to light a rocket ( you were always a big baby). And the last one is from the time we broke up in July. Sigh.

Right next to it is the phone I'm using now. It doesn't have nearly as many memories, but I've used it all of this semester. It was with me when we went on our field trips. When I organized the quiz in college, and needed last minute ideas from my friend in Goa. It doesn't mean as much to me as the other phone, but it'll get there.

Both of them lie on a 1972 edition of the Chambers Twentieth Century Dictionary. It's old, the pages are falling out and plenty of words don't even find a mention there. Sure, we have another one. But this one is of sentimental value to dad. He used it while he was in college. So it sits there, at arms length, within easy reach as it should be.

To the right of the dictionary is my cousin's old calculator. It's one of the few things I own that has been abroad with me. Ticket stubs from various plays (stubs that I've collected over the years) surround it, like a wreath. Those were some good times.

There's a pen-stand at the back. There's a pen-knife in there which belonged to my maternal granddad. It's shaped like a sword and it always reminds me of King Arthur, for some reason. Right next to that is a stack of old tapes. All of them are veenai tapes(mum's favourite).

The computer itself. I won it as a prize about three years ago. Back then it was a pretty big deal. (17" LCD monitor!!!). And it's still been going strong (except for the CD drive, which has started acting up. I need to get it checked).

There's a lot more on the desk. And old NFS cover, camera,batteries, random wires snaking about, headphones, a pack of chewing gum. Not that these things mean very much, but they're just there.

And the there's the desk itself. If I'm not mistaken, it belonged to my great granddad. My gran got it after he died.All our photo albums are inside. I don't even want to get started. There are just too many things in there. Mostly happy memories, all of them. And it's always fun looking through them, reliving the moments...

Why did I even think that going to a hostel would be a good idea?

Disclaimer (20/12/07): I wrote this piece cos I was trying my hand at melancholy prose. Doesn't look like a good idea now. I think I'd better stick to what I do best.