MY OWN SPACE

On certain days, I find myself gazing beyond a set of steel  bars, transfixed.

The stance remains peaceful; and while my eyes search for something I have never been able to comprehend- something beyond words, an inexplicable stillness prevails my mind, clearing a large space, sweeping away mindless thoughts. A vacuum, waiting to be filled with another happy memory, a heartbreak, or the details of just another day gone by. This vacuum reduces with every passing day; replenished, unsolicited. I endeavor to make my peace with it.

My mind leaps from one thought to another, dwelling on memories, rethinking decisions, while subconsciously, I resolve to drink in every little detail surrounding the bars, as a reserve for any future nostalgia.

My mother says, on such days I am uncharacteristically quiet and awfully reserved. On such days, I give in to my mind. More often than not, I spend the entire day wrapped in my own thoughts, oblivious.

While I occupy the position close to the window made of steel bars on these days, my thoughts remain scattered. Although an array of emotions cloud my senses, there is one distinctly constant pulsation, that which stands out over the mount of mental mess, sometimes escaping the eyes in betrayal-not as a sign of moping for the long lost love, neither in lament over the life wrongly lived, and nor for the fearsome idea of uncertainties waiting to be unleashed, but as an ode to the overwhelming wave of belonging; belonging to this space that I have faithfully covered for over 19 years, in front of weary, old steel bars.


This space that I will always call my own.

PRISHITA CHADHA

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