Snapshots

I don't drink my drinks in small sips

I slurp them mouthful at a time 

And slosh them across my mouth

With bulging cheeks and pouted mouth

Once

Twice

Then gulp them down with an audible sound,

Ugghp

Ringing inside my head 

While I try to decipher who else noticed it or who turned. 

My messy table always yells in my mother's sweet shrill voice

"Clean it up", 

"It's not hygienic",

"It's not nice",

And each time I first scowl at myself

Then take my hands towards my things,

Shifting and scouring through them,

A smile slowly budding up with scrunched up eyebrows,

Yet couldn't ever bring myself to remove them from the table

Every scrap, every tin foil, every wrapper, every medicine, every book, every bottle, every coin contains within themselves a need, a requirement

Some physical, some emotional, but a requirement nonetheless. 

My backpack contains the world within itself,

Bits and parts of my experiences, my things, my memories, my identity, my possessions.

Stomach ache? Meftal is here.

Need some cash? Got it.

Started menstruating? Here's a pad. 

Hungry? Snickers? 

Lol.

Every time someone needs something, an alternative emerges from that bag

But once, 

Once in a long time I needed something,

Needed that thing with such intensity that I forgot what I actually needed,

I searched and searched

And scraped and scowled and sighed and looked and cried and yelled and opened chains after the chain, 

Mind it, it has a lot of chains,

And looked through the secret pocket,

Through the bottle carrier,

Through the keychain hook,

Through multiple small books within bigger books,

Tried them all and failed. 

I couldn't find what I wanted.

From that day, I stopped it calling my worldly backpack,

From that day, I started to stock things I might need with mindful adherence,

From that day, I looked within myself before I dared touched my bag. 

- Raj Nandani

30th January 2024