The Real Wall

All the talk about Rahul 'The Wall' Dravid retiring, the broad smile on my face after a lunch "date" with my gorgeous mother and general wave of inspiration resulted in this on a bored afternoon -

Splattered on the wall were pictures; pictures that captured moments, froze memories and brought a bright smile on the girl’s face.

Of course, there were complaints. There always were. Having connectivity on your phone called for celebration. Having blood left for your system after the mosquitoes were done feasting was a mini miracle. The walls looked like they were remnants of the Chola kings. It was a constant battle to keep a layer of grime and dust from settling on every flat surface. The list could go on.

But beyond all this, despite all the hiccups, there was one silver lining to the dark cloud called Sharavathi. The wall. The very same wall that looked like archaeological remains had taken on a whole new avatar. With all the blemishes covered, it was an amalgam of life events, a time line of sorts.

No matter how many monkeys she stepped over or how many pages of readings she had pored over, irrespective of how many courses she wasn’t confident of or how intimidated she felt, all she had to do was look at the wall and it all came rushing back to her.

She was reminded that her life was a treasure trove of almost two decades of good memories. There was one of her on a bookshelf, happily perched up above the world so high! And then another, her being carried around, dressed as fashion would dictate in those years gone by in a fluffy warm coat with bunny ears! Oh and so many more! A peck on the cheek from her mom, a hug from a dear friend, an arm around the shoulder by a cherished uncle...

Every day, that was all she had to do. Lie down, look up and wait for that broad grin to work its way across her face. There it all was, years and years of happiness, tangible proof for all those amazing people who were always there. Some may not have met her in the last decade, others may have gotten to know her only in the last year but today, they are all a mere phone call away.

As she looks around and watches her sleeping roommate, the clothes drying on the clothesline, the floor dangerously close to needing another sweep of the broom and books and bags lying strewn across, a sense of security floods her. She can study and wash clothes and sweep the floor and do whatever else needs to be done. Nothing can be too hard because after all, if she needs help, she has the wall to lean on, literally and metaphorically.

To all those faces on the wall, thank you. Especially you.