By Anjana Sankar
I have a penchant for losing things. Things appear to disappear from my handbag, from my drawer or my trouser pockets. Earrings, pins, hairbands are usual culprits that are insignificant in their loss. Their departure from my life has not made me blink an eye. Ever. A twitch on my nerves at times. But I swear, I still have tried to be organised and put things meticulously back on designated spots only to later forget where those spots were.
The fact is I have always thought they have a life of their own — a more happening one outside of my heaving handbags or plated hair or folded saris. It could be even the case that my pretty pins are eloping with the hairbands to find a happy home elsewhere. Maybe they sensed I am not possessive enough. Or they were not valued enough. I have not spent enough time to ponder on their loss, so I don’t know.
But my itch of possession kicks in when it comes to sunglasses, car keys, lipsticks and earrings. Oh yes, my mobile phones too. One minute here, next minute gone. My iPhone did an audacious vanishing act on me last week, completely exposing my dark secret to my colleagues. Ten minutes after walking into the office, the fella was not to be seen. Not in my bag. Not on my desk. Not in the car. Nowhere. I turned to technology. Logged into the Find my iPhone website only to realise that my phone was switched off. Dagg! I ran to HR that sent a search party that combed the corridors that stretched between my car and my desk.
Fifteen minutes into the hot pursuit of my missing mobile, it was located. Finally! Sitting neglected on my dashboard, my phone was fuming in the boiling heat at my callous disregard. Out of sheer displeasure and agony, it had switched itself off.
But not all my possessions have been kind enough to stay or come back and give me another chance. Sunglasses, I tell you, are the worst. Mess with them one day, show you don’t care and they are gone. Car keys are temperamental, but kind. You can negotiate a comeback deal if you leave them alone for a few days. Lipsticks — unfaithful, disloyal creatures that have no inner beauty.
When they walk out, I usually tell myself ‘good riddance’ and move on.
Not that I care much, but I imagine… what if they could write a goodbye note to me before they left. It would have given me a closure.
But I have made peace with my losses. A friend of mine (who is in the same boat as I am) told me the other day that if there is a place called heaven, I will find all my missing possessions waiting for me in a room. And we could be richest dead people with heaps of single earrings, sunglasses, lipsticks of all hues, a few ATM cards and iPhones. I am thinking about a materialistic life after life.
Anjana’s cluttered desk is not an indication of her state of mind