Written by Apoorva Dixit
My mom believes in souvenirs,
Like sometimes when she misses her dad
She goes back to the cupboard
And takes out the coins
Which she found in her Dad’s pocket
On the day he died, she weeps!
And on somedays when she misses her Mom, she goes to look for the saree
Which her mother wore when she died
She unfolds the saree, feels the essence
And keeps it back, she weeps!
My Mom strongly believes in souvenirs,
And so do I, just the ways are different.
She collects things as souvenirs,
And I collect moments.
Moments of all kind,
The moments like, when I first learned to apply kohl in my eyes,
She got me the best kohl.
The moments where she teaches me,
How important it is to be a human first.
And moments when my Dad,
Stays up all night to ensure I don’t miss my flight.
The moments when my Granny
Prepares the best pickle just for me,
With abundance of love.
And the moments when my baby brother,
Suddenly grows up to be my protector.
The moments when my love,
Wipes my tears when I don’t feel home.
And the way he promises me,
To sail through the ocean of life to ether.
Yes, I collect moments as souvenirs,
Because moments become memories
And memories are least vulnerable to loss.
