A CELEBRATION…

You can find everything from tattoos to T-scales, posters to pliers, inspiring quote to inquisitive ants, mount boards to mosquitoes! You’ve trespassed into Sandy’s Space-a zone or rather…table where confusion, extreme creativity and total chaos reign supreme! Take your seat…or wait let me just push away those pins and cutters!
Yeah…my table is MY SPACE, MY RECOGNITION,MY DOMAIN,MY NICHE,MY IDENTITY…oh I could go on! It’s ultimately MINE and MINE ALONE and with one inexpressible possessiveness do I dominate my study table.
Its one space crammed between my father’s electronics cupboard to its right and the tiny computer table to its left in a small,already messy room!
Ah let me start with the room itself!This room is the first one that branches out from the hall.This room and my grandfather have a love-hate relationship.Too many things are tightly fit into this room-two study tables,a computer table,dressing table,a sofa ,3 cupboards,a paper trolley,a moda and a chair.Hah imagine themsquashed in a small room.Hence the hate.And …this roomis where there is peace in the noon for cosy naps…hence my grandfather’s love for it!
Now you know where it is.Let me tell you how I’VE DECORATED IT.
Sandhya loves to showcase her trademark style.”Ahem…what is it?”you might enquire.Well…she likes her space to be crowded with her stuff.You see,born in a place with close proximity to railway station crowds and busy shopping locales,crowd runs in her blood.With such ‘inspirations’,can Sandy be crowd free?
So she…I mean I have stuck a million stuff on my table,abovemy table and to the left of my tableon my father’s cupboard.Rahul Dravid,Madhavan and Tendulkar blow ups,my XII standard group photo(ah…memories!),a calendar with roses and ribbons tied atevery possible space with two childhood snaps pinned,a letter from a friend in Singapore,a Zaheer- in- mid- air- and –out- to- bowl- a -yorker photo,aHarry Potter snap,more Dravid,a parrot stick -on -the –wall(a gift of a dear teacher’s Christmas party),more Madhavan,beautiful verses(especially of L.M.Montgomery) and finally embroidery hoops,tuck-in-all junk boxes,rag bag and a pen holder all hung on one poor single fancy hook.Sigh!
But that’s not the end.An old greeting from ‘The Angel of Armida’(which happens to be the nom-de-plume of my dear sister Swetha) to ‘The Dreamy Dryad’(hey…thatz me!)is stuck on the table along with one kolam(crazy I agree.But I REALLY liked the kolam).
Now shift gears.Look down.Horror of horrors…it is a mass of meaningless stuff.Chart holders,A2 size sheets,colour papers,kathi-kabada(with what else can you cut monsterous boards that just wont obey you?),pencils of every possible type-B,HB,2H…,erasers of every brand,tubes of fevicol,fevikwik,glues and gums(some without caps,dying a horrible death),sheets of poems and sketches,an old greeting card,a Sudhish Kamath article(generally it will be one of the Campus Notes) fluttering below yet another pen holder,a painting,designs done at 2 in the night that make no sense ,chocolate wrappers,tatoos got for BOOMER,twigs from my favourite tree-‘Old lady with green fingers’(yes…thatz how I call that tree),sand frommy school,sometimes my huge stuffed dog ‘Bobby’,a printout of the world’s most best article titled ‘To-my-air-conditioner,with love’carefully put into a transparent file for hurried and happy readings,cube models,cellophane tapes,a novel or two,my dictionary,thesaurus,calculator,t-scale(and that happens to be one enormous ‘T’ shaped thing architecture students and architects use for drafting),set squares,compass,conch shells,pista shells,old gift wrappers-a memoir of real HAPPY birthdays,letters written by thevery few friends whoactually write back and a zillion things more.
Yes my desk actually does whine and moan and complain and creak!But…I love this confusion.My parents hate it.I love it because it is so like me-clinging to the sweet trifles that make my life that I find even the most smallest scrap of paper too dearto throw off.I am one hoarder of stuff-anything I like,I save it,collect it,keep it.I relive my golden moments,I treasure my dreams,I rejoice everytime they come true.I celebrate life.My table is a celebration too.Of life-my life-the architect and thewriter in me surfacing at different times.It has variety,confusion,brilliance(ahem…I know I shouldn’t boast…but still you see…ok…I’ll give up!),creativity,nonsense,disorderliness,priceless treasures and worthless things.
It is a mad corner,alright,but there is “a method in its madness”.It showcases my crazy yet joyful ,celebrational,laughing,enjoying self that reacts deeply to joy and sorrow,that takes happiness with a dizzying high and sadness with a terrifying low.A portrayal of the “stubborn,disobedient,disorganized,muddled,scrambled,jumbled,addled,crazy…”(I quote my family) yet unique(ha!)person that happens to be me!
My table is a place to snooze and a placeto write my views,where my mind works and where it doesn’t.I’ve laughed,cried,dreamt,grieved and done everything I possibly could do.Its my world- something too dear for anybody to pilfer.That would be sacriligeous.I am the only onbe who can find a pin from the mess.And yes…the only one who lost it there again!But still… it is MINE-MY SPACE,MY IDENTITY, MY WORLD,MYSELF.
I love you my dear
darling study table!