‘A Box Full of Us’ has been edited by Rushi Bhimani
‘A Box Full of Us’ is a much needed prose piece to express the enigmatic feelings, that very often spin in our minds. It is the ramblings of an honest and hopeful head.
Do you think words will be enough to express what this really is? Let us just leave it all unsaid; store those words deep down, in some place they cannot be found. Seal them in our box and never take them out.
You know, the box that has been protecting our long everlasting conversations.
Conversations, that gave a good long peek into the other’s mind. Those conversations, where we never held back and called spade a spade. A time I was never afraid to be myself, and you did not bother hiding the façade the world often saw; such was the magic. I saw you; you willingly showed me who you really are. Hours passed by were just a number, and time a mere spectator, as we created memory after memory.
Those words expressed made us realize that the rest of the world was a hindrance to the world called ‘Us’. It is the place that bought unparalleled comfort and felt like home.
And just like that, our world is alive inside a box. The one that holds all those hushed secrets that always looked for a home. They are the secrets that make us who we truly are. The secrets, for which the world wouldn’t accept me but you, would. Not once did you ever ask for perfection, you never wished for a thing to change. You asked for me; with all my flaws and messed up head. That is what makes us ‘us’; raw, unabashed and unapologetic.
Somewhere in this box are my fears, the ones I am afraid of accepting, but you did so effortlessly. The fears you know so well, as if they were your own. The fears, you help me conquer one by one, and help me be a better version of myself, unknowingly.
Our tear drops, the ones that left our glistening eyes have been stored in that box. The teardrops, which parted from us as the fear got better of us, when the last strand of hope broke. Sealed were the tears we shed when we realized we saw the world as it is, but not ourselves. Tears, in memory of that surreal kiss and melodious laughter.
All of it; our memories, our sins, our altruistic gestures, our broken heart, our infatuated brain…each and every memory made, even the smallest fragment is stored in this box. Box that we live in, you and I—where your smile soothes my frantic heart and my words are the reason for that smile—and hope to die in the comfort of.
Someday, this will be enough. All of us will be content living in our unlabeled boxes, with nostalgia, happy tears, a head full of dreams and heart full of emotions.
I know, we refuse to share this box with the world, but that is all right. I am sure everyone has their own little box far away from this world; a space they belong to, a place that feels like home.
On this quixotic note, good bye.