The Ting Things

It was day before yesterday, when my elder sis was planning to donate what we call waste to a shelter home called "kilkari" under the infamous ngo "Dil se". Yes, she is a regular volunteer there. It feels like a great deed to me. I, myself, have donated tonnes of clothes to many shelter homes. It feels heaven when I imagine children wearing my ex-favorite clothes. In spite of the fact that some exes can not be forgotten. Even if they are blurred from mind, they cannot be erased from memories. Something similar happened that night.
As soon as she collected the stuff and made, like four bags out of it, I was called upon, to lessen the burden. "You should be in packers and movers", she says. Yes, I can squeeze bags into bag & things into thing.
"I cannot give this, sorry. Am taking it back", I said to her.
"You dammit, you do not even remember when you touched it or even glared or gazed at it last time", she said.
"Chuck it, its mine, I cant give it away", I said.
"What the hell yaar? This can be useful to someone", she said.
"It is useful to me", I said.
She was quite.
"Atleast, pack the rest", she said. For she cannot do this without me.
Feeling like winning a battle, I glared at it.
Rotated it top to bottom. Left to right. Gazed at it, and quietly kept it back in the upper shelf of the almirah (where it has been kept like this since years and decades maybe).
It was my first teddy bear. Not like rest what are usually kept at archies. No, not at all.
It is very bright. Fore-casted in yellow & blue colors. With a cap almost equalizing its own size. Tiny little ears and hands ready to hug. Small.
It took me back to when I was six or seven years old.
(I do time travelling a lot, trust me)
I remember how I used to make id cards for them. Pin them up on their chest. Prepare tiny notebooks for all my toys and teach them. And even make tiny homes for them. I can only laugh at my silly games now. Seems like yesterday only. Wish those days had never passed.

A happy go luck child, as I have always been :)

All I know about me is, I cannot get rid of things. I just cannot. More of I do not "wish to" rather than "cannot". Be it my kitchen set, be it my all the then-latest barbies which made all my mates jealous (and I teased them more), be it my toys (even all I got from happy meals), be it my friendship bands (yes, I possess even my first ever one), be it anything and everything. Its all in the lower berth of my almirah. Even though it takes dot fifty percent of my almirah's space which leaves my mum always shouting at me to throw them away, but that's one of the things I just won't do. I am fond of keeping memories, in the form of photos, videos, gifts, anything. Cos, I just get connected to them. Parallel to it, I am very much connected to my childhood. Maybe because its very special to me or maybe because am still living in it.
The time travelling gets over.
"Do it fast now will you?", screamed my sis.
"Packers & movers on their duty", I said.
Withing two minutes, I made two bags out of four. Satisfaction with relief follows from her side.