THE PHOTOGRAPH ALBUM

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As the pages of that old photograph album fluttered,

Its sheets crackled in my ear,

The heart started racing,

Thoughts were pacing up and down.

 

It was a simple photo album,

Yet the heart knew it meant a lot more.

It was a simple photo album,

Yet the heart knew it housed something invaluable.
As I dusted off the cover,

The dust of the burden of adulthood,

The dust of the remnants of broken relationships,

The heart could feel an ache

An ache that has accumulated over the years

An ache that refuses to die.

 

As I picked up the photographs,

Eyes welled up and emotions refused to die.

As I went down the memory lane,

I could see the younger me,

I could see the  innocent me,

I could see the chaste me

 

We were just a humble family of four,

I was little.

Little enough to believe that everything

Would stay the same

That everyday ma and pa would smile

At me and each other

That everyday my older brother would pull my hair

And apologise later

That every day, someone would say goodbye

But turn up again the next day

That everyday I’d play with my electric yellow duck

In my little bloomers

Ma and pa laughing

And I laughing

In glee

 

I was innocent enough to not

Let my mind dictate the heart.

I was innocent enough to love,

Love unconditionally without reason

I was innocent enough to look unattractive,

And still feel like the queen of this mortal world.

I was innocent enough to believe in happiness,

Happiness without reason.
As I rode through the roller coaster ride,

The ride that took me through

Those days, those wonderful days

Of blissful Ignorance,

Of free laughter,

I couldn’t stop the tears,

The tears of nostalgia.

 

As each drop fell on each photograph,

I felt the weight lightening.

As each drop fell on each photograph,

I felt each memory solidifying.

As each drop fell on each on photograph,

I felt proud of every childhood antic.

As each drop fell on each photograph,

My belief in innocence strengthened manifold.

 

As old birthday pictures surfaced,

My heart felt elation.

How, every birthday was a big deal,

How every friend who attended, mattered.

The cake mattered,

The number of candles did,

The flavour mattered,

The shape of the cake did.

 

All of it has mellowed down disastrously now.

 

As I skimmed through some,

Glanced through some,

Spent time on some,

I saw my life transform completely,

I saw my 10 year old self,

Corrupt.

I saw my 10 year old relationships,

Break.

I saw my 10 year old innocence,

Destroy.

 

There were times

When every outing was a big deal

When every moment was worth a frame.

When laughs were innumerable.

When pictures were uncountable.

 

As we grew,

Photographs decreased

Laughs turned into screams.

Frame worthy moments became scarce.

Outings became quieter.

 

Now we have no photographs.

Now laughter is scarce.

Frames are obsolete.

Photo albums-dusted.

 

As my mind wanders off to that fairy land,

I can see myself 10 years ago,

I can see her amazing zest for life,

I can see her love her parents dearly,

I can see her have optimism galore,

I can see her preserving every memory,

I can tearfully see the amazing human being she was.

 


About the Author:

Aryan Wadehra (BDS, PU Campus)

A true blue musician at heart he’s a writer by passion and extremely  enthusiastic about film-making. Yet he’s the quintessential boy next door- enjoys to watch films, listen to music all day long and is a novel addict!

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