Threads and hearts *

Some threads are heart woven. Knitted close to each. Sometimes to pull one by one out is difficult. I’m scared that everything might come out. It should be done with a lot of care. They are too tender. Only those who weave will know the art of pulling and putting them back right. Weavers are made of hard – wearing hands. They are patient, committed and watchful. If they stitch over the other, that would make a dress look ugly.

When I was small, I had plenty of frocks. Most of them were smocked frocks. Appachchi shopped for frocks in “Little Women”, a shop in Majestic City which is exclusive in frock technology. I remember, he took me with him to buy frocks after Montessori sometimes. I went to Tiny Tots School in Bambalapitiya. It was in the left end of Melbourne Avenue, right next to the Majestic City. The frock collection was done when I was about 6 or 7. I naturally shifted to shorts and pants.

I don’t collect anything in specific. People collect many things. They like collecting. I have a friend of mine who has a big collection of stamps. She has almost everything except for stamps in a few countries. Recently, I was invited for some project work at a friend’s house. He had a rack full of movies. All DVD’s and CD’s nicely piled up. Even collecting things need a lot of workout.

When I wrote for the school journal, I would collect the paper cuttings of things I had written. Later, with time I didn’t even bother looking at a paper to read what I had written. Some even questioned me  why I don’t keep them for myself. I didn’t have copies of what I had written when someone wanted to read. Again I vigilantly start collecting stories and poems when I was given an opportunity  to write for The Nation. I would bring printouts of what I have authored. It no longer continued for more than 3 or 4 times.  Naturally stopped. I was too lazy to go out looking for printing shops. I have stories and poems saved in word documents. I thought that is enough. And blogging will not lose anything. Only until Google Blogger would think to stop functioning forever. Still backups will work. Hopefully.

I’m not the ‘collecting ‘ person. I throw things instead. I don’t like when my table is piled up with papers. Same with the drawers. Files full of papers and documents  make me angry . Cleaning days are rare for me . And papers would make me take longer time to clean than I think. I have the habit of reading all papers, bills, handouts and paper cuttings that will come across while cleaning. More ever when I find things that were meant to be lost, I start playing with them. When I see documents that don’t belong to me, I would go asking home people if it’s necessary or not. On such a rare cleaning poya day I found some toys stuck in a drawer. There were toy characters, a toy dog, a doll with no hands and legs and a few metals cars. The wheels were missing. Some papers were covered by dust. Printed text was faded. Some discolored. Over dated. Crushed and torn. It is time for them to be in bin.

Among them were some birthday cards I had received. Long time back. A few photos too. There was memory lagging. They were old friends . All the fun things we did at a younger age . I last saw them 18 years ago. Maybe.

Like everything else, papers get thrown, they get decayed and lost. Toys will get damaged and fixed again and again. When fixing isn’t possible we will put them aside. But for now, I know memories stay for long. Like those close knitted threads, some people cannot be left aside. Because there is possibility for damage.

Did you know that people come to see you all night and day break and that forgetting is impossible?

( Published in "The Nation" newspaper on 22nd June 2014)