Tuesday, September 18, 2012

Some forgotten hues

Every garment protects you till you wash and wash and wash it over and over again. Soon the fabric weakens, the colour fades. Stains of memories and time impose themselves on the embroidery. The buttons pop out, the zips get stuck, holes are developed, insects attack the woven cloth, and there it lies forgotten in a mist of fungus in a cold damp wardrobe. 

There was a time someone else picked clothes for you, someone else dreamt for you. But soon enough, you had the power to buy them on your own, to weave your own patterns, to make your own choices, to live your own dreams. 

Yes, I am a sentimental freak. But then dreams are like old clothes. We grow out of them. And soon enough, we make efforts to get them altered, in a last bid to get them to fit. Sometimes you manage, sometimes you don't. An inch of a stitch from within, some tacking removed, some hems sewn, some beyond repair. A saree converted to a quilt, a branded skirt now a rag. And sometimes, they just have to be discarded, however comforting and warm they maybe. That bigger sized jacket that feels just right or that floral dress which is so you! The smell of the days gone by still lingering in those threads. Just some old dreams, that don't fit right anymore..

Not everything can be stitched. Not everything can be mended. Every thread has a limit of tolerance. The day it's burdened beyond a limit, it snaps, letting go of all that it supported.

Everything is temporary. We only make promises of permanence, amidst forgotten hues. 

3 scribbling(s):

Himankur said...


Anonymous said...

Interesting! Although there are some treasured memories or dreams that can be kept in the vault like trinkets kept in a showcase - just to appreciate and not use.

The Wanderer said...

The trinkets too may get rusted over time

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