A few steps down the staircase brought me to the murky and redolent storeroom full with the smell of old books hiding under the thick layer of dust. Train was on time. Mom was busy in packing and she had asked me to find a box in which she kept the lock and chain for the journey.
I started my search with an old rusted trunk. It opened with a creaking sound. As i went on, my eyes fell on a brown diary panting for breadth underneath a pile of books. Oh! it was the same diary in which i wrote poems when i was in class seven. I retrieved it from the pile and opened it with trembling hands, my heart thumping faster than before. The first poem was titled "Rules of Life".oh! i had written about something which i still dont know. The poem was signed in the end trying to imitate accomplished writers.
The "R" of "Rohini" was given a delibrate twist which was enough to depict the pride, young poetess must have taken in her creation. I remember when i wrote a poem i used to read it to myself several times and except mom let no one read it and shoved the diary underneath a pile of books. If someone read i got red with embarassment.Papa always got me in such situations. If someone came to our house,pa will say"just let uncle also listen to what you wrote last" then i would say pa "i dont remember and i cant find the diary". Sittng there i remembered everything, how elated i used to be every time when i was successful in finding a rhyming ending.
Oh this way i would never be able to find the box . I went to a carton near the trunk. I had started only when my hands fell on something i thought this was it. I brought it out and to my surprise it was the mobile phone box! . Once the pride of a young girl now stood there in faded glory.All the numbers ,alphabets had faded. It was the one which kindled a ray of excitement in my eyes when i first saw it and had showed it to everyone running from one end to another.
Ma called from ground floor and asked to search in the cupboard. I kept it aside and went to the cupboard. I opened the cupboard.It was lined with old worn out boxes. I found my box too kept there on the second shelf. At last i was successful and was about to close the cupboard when my eyes fell on a box with a tweety sticker on it. It was the same box in which i kept my embroidery threads.Sister Acquin used to teach us embroidery. I remembered once we had to prepare five embroidered hankies and i had shed fifty tears learning Rose Stitch from mom.
These things may seem trivial but they are the witness of the twinkle in a young girl's eyes on seeing a mobile phone box,they are the witness of a poetess' elated smile on finding a rhyming word. These are the building blocks of ones life hiding the secret of each moment. I may become a successful engineer and may design a mobile phone but will never forget the little mobile phone pencilbox and its charisma.Amidst the darkness i got a glimse of once radiant moments of my life. These things are the earnings of our life .....the treasures of our life.
Note : I had written long long ago and lost it. A friend had had kept and gave it to me recently :) And also at that time I certainly didnt know I would be in the mobile telecom industry :P
