Letting go of the past   

By Ishita Soni

I turned my head to look behind. This would be the last time, I assured myself and then moved on. But the temptation, that familiar bug at the bottom of my stomach, now for the hundredth time, was still there.

I glanced and then squeezed my eyes shut. But the faint impression of the room remained, burning itself on the inside of my eyelids. The cubical room, just 8 feet tall and 8 feet wide, was all white when I first came in. The contrast between those blank walls and the garden, where I was previously staying, was striking and almost overwhelming.

“It’s okay,” I whispered to myself. “I’ve spent so much time here, so I’m just hesitating to leave. It’ll be over anytime soon.”

But what if that comes next is worse? Said the little voice in my head. What if I am not ready for that yet? This never-ending chain of inhibitions made me uneasy. I sat down and put my head between my knees.

I started to reminisce about the memories I had made. I remembered the first time I entered the room – I was perplexed and had stared at the bare walls for a while. And now, when I think that this will no longer be the same – it’s  depressing! 

Not willing to let my optimism die so soon, I half-crawled around the minimal space that was given to me. Only I know how grateful I was when I had discovered a box of supplies at one corner. I opened the carton and took out some watercolour paint tubes, books, energy bars and drinks. And in this process, I found out that the supply was rather unlimited. I still wonder how?

Every day, I’d paint a small segment of the wall using a different colour each time. The idea succeeded – the patchwork of vibrant colours helped keep my misery at bay.

At times, when I got bored of painting and reading books, I’d wish for new ways to pass my time. And the box would feed my desires. I took out things after things and now I am a parent of four healthy cacti, read a dozen paperbacks and can dribble a basketball for twelve minutes straight.

I know the list is too short. I miss my acquaintances from the time when I’d lived a more cheerful life in that beautiful garden. But life in the past year has given me something I did not have before: strength and hope.

I know that my hope might flicker. I would not have the enthusiasm to move on but the memories that I’ll take from this room to the unknown world will always remind me to be grateful. With new vigour, I wiped away the tears in my eyes.

I stood up and for one last time took a look at the beautifully coloured patchwork on the walls. I consoled myself and looked away, tightly clutching the things I had decided to take with me. And slowly, I walked towards the glowing doorway beyond which lay another mysterious year. 

I did not look back. For once, I’m not scared to experience what’s enstore next.