The Closet Of My Hostel Room

I read this somewhere. Your wardrobe depicts the life you live in. Well, here I stand to look at my wardrobe. 'Messed up', I tell myself. How apt. Wondering how much it had changed since the first day I came here. 

My mother covered the shelves with a newspaper, placed all my clothes and other stuff nicely in it. Everything was assigned a place where they all felt happy. As if the small cubicle had given all the organs of life and was breathing.

Time passed, and it passed quite like a gush. Never waited for anyone. Never cared if you're ready for what it had to offer. Sometimes like a big surge, wiping all your expectations away. And sometimes like a calm, soothing little wave that brushes on your feet and make it's way back to the big life-like ocean. And so did my closet transformed.

It had all the elements of my life. Like a diary, it kept a journal of a journey I took since I was at that place. 

My old clothes which had the smell of my home were shifted back while the new ones, the ones which made me feel like a happy spirited college girl, took its place, giving it a tinge of youth.

I had dresses instead of the simple boring tees, jeans were rugged and shorts that were cut out of old jeans. 

Some clothes were not even mine, the ones I borrowed from my hostel friends and never minded returning. Just like I kept their hearts in me and wish to keep them for a long long time as I own them.

The jewellery was kept in a box which looked more like a precious chamber of jewels which glitters when you open them and have hidden treasures in it. Gives a hint of elegancy to your outfit and royal look to your persona when you wear it. Of course, they had to be treated that way.

The second shelf had all my protection from the cold wild winter breeze, helping my body protect its warmth. Like those people in my life, protecting my heart, so to keep it warm and alive. Feeding it with love. Keeping me close. 

Somewhere in that pile of fabrics were kept memories of a special person. His sweatshirt still has the smell of the cologne he used to wear. At the hook on the inside of the door hangs the keychain he gifted me on my last birthday. On the keychain, there's a glass bottle with a cork and in it lies another bottle with small particles of radium. Those particles resembled my life when I used to be around him - glowing in the dark, reminding me of all the times my heart skipped a beat.

And there at the corner are small round pieces of naphthalene balls. Like some poison, filled at the corners of your heart which is very much human. But the type of poison protecting you, keeping away the creatures trying to tear these beautiful colors of your life, your wardrobe.

There's a box of cigarettes on the right corner of the top shelf, under the storage box. I pick it up, take out a cigarette and put it back to its place. It is peeping at me from behind the box, like a secret threatening me to roam about in open. I make sure to slide it behind well. I light my cigarette and smoke, releasing my throttled thoughts out of the cage and letting them puff away.