Matchbox

I live in it. A matchbox, that is. It's a tiny room. It ends even before it begins. My roomie called it one-fourth of a room. She was being polite. When I moved in, it wasn't a pretty place. Dust had settled in on the beds, which were of the kind one would find in prison. The air was stale and the room stuffy. I had a distinct suspicion that it might also be infested with roaches. As it turned out, they made a regular appearance.

"And this is where you can keep all your clothes, wokay", the landlady said, while opening a poor excuse for a cupboard with a flourish. She turned and smiled at me, as if I'd be staying at the Taj Mahal, itself, no less..I swallowed and enquired about the food. "Good food wonly..", she trailed off. I went to the dining area where my friend pointed to a gruel, which any self-respecting cow would have rejected.

A while ago, I'd stood at the balcony of my floor and waved goodbye to my parents. Watching their car leave, I felt my heart grow heavy. As I dumped my mattress on the prison bed and whooshed away a cloud of dust, I felt alone. Yet, I had this distinct assurance of knowing that I was meant to be here. I began the process of settling in. It was an uphill task trying to figure out how and where to place all my earthly possessions without tripping over them. A minor exercise in project management, if you ask me.

Work began at 8: 30 am and went upto 6 pm. My pick-up was at 7:30 am and I reached at 8, which meant I spent a good 10 hours at my workplace everyday. It was no minor relief that saturdays were off. So, in view of my schedule, I had to deliberately plan every minute not just at work, but also when I came back to my room. I reached at 7:15 pm and every minute after that was super-precious, because another day would begin again, shortly.

Well, you ask, why am I still put-up at this place? For starters, it's a hop, skip and jump away from Forum - Bangalore's biggest mall. So, all the basic necessities of a true-blue Mumbai girl, are met. But more importantly, I was determined to build something of beauty in a place of ashes. For a girl, who's lived all her life, in the safety, comfort, and convenience of home, the newfound independence was both exhilarating and terrifying. Every task, from reading a book to paying a bill, has become an activity that requires planning. I've become even more conscious of how I spend time.

I heard a talk last Sunday in a church about transit points in life. For the Biblical character, Jacob, Bethel was the transit point. And I thought then, I'm Jacob, in Bethel (figuratively, of course). We may not build our home there, but we try to make the best use of our moments while there. It's a place to dream. A place of disappointments. A place of hard lessons learnt. A place where one sometimes, has to pick up the pieces of one's broken heart and move on.

But, it's also a place of reflection. A place to meet new people, who serve a purpose in one's life, for some while, even if one may never see them again. A place where relationships are cemented. And a place, where your eyes are opened to the things that really matter.

My matchbox is livable now. It is swept clean. It also smells nice. But more, it is lit with a sense of purpose. It's aglow with grace. Even my roommate says so. So, when I raise my weary eyes to heaven, it dawns on me that I'll be given each day my daily bread. And I realize once again..that the most important things in life..are not things.