It’s a habit of mine, to open the refrigerator just for the sake of it. Especially at times when my mind does not know what to do and my laptop’s locked down in the room my mom's taking bath in.
I glanced through the racks aimlessly, there’s this huge Tropicana tetra pack from I keep sipping guava juice through the day, bit by bit, telling myself each time that a sip is not too much sugar but failing to make of how many sips I take in a day. On the top rack on the right side, I found as usual- lemons the place of eggs- the egg tray. Curry leaves to syringes, the refrigerator was jam-packed.
Then I found next to the pack of kas-kas, lying idly “shade number- 116, Nykaa- Matte-Nail Lacquer”. As idle my brain was, I picked it up without a thought and started applying it to my left thumb nail. The first moment I saw the pigment spread over my nail, I started shaking as though something had come upon me, suddenly, without prior notice. My body started responding before my brain did. I remember clearly- when my hands started shaking, my mind was blank. It took few moments for my brain to picture what and why it was happening.
I saw the color-matte grey.
It took me back in time, it was late October or early November of 2018. Rain was gunning down all roads of IIT Madras. Northeast monsoon had set its foot and see, this is the thing about Chennai- you can expect sun and rain at all times. Rain splattered and shot the muddy banks of the beautiful tar roads that were lined with trees on both sides. On a larger scale, I’d say, these roads ran like snakes through what was a huge forest.
I was still an anxious freshie who kept things and feelings to herself. I walked towards my favorite place, the shopping complex.
I occasionally looked up in awe to the magnanimity of the big, beautiful trees. Everything around me was so green, the leaves looked like they were delighted to be touched by the rain. The world around me looked so fresh, as though it just took birth, just bore form.
I reached the shopping complex smiling to myself, with a heart so full- you'll only know when you walk the roads of our insti.
I had then set out to buy nail polish for myself as the first Ethnic Day was approaching- the first ever in my college life. It was just some thirty minutes past four in the evening. All the lights were switched on and that’s a different kind of feeling- like the day had come to cease a little too early that day, that you were then disabled to do nothing but sit inside and admiringly look out to seek whatever nature decides to show you. That feeling is the cousin of humility.
I choose not to lie, I cared about how I looked, not obsessively, but I did care.
As usual, I made sure I walked through each lane glancing at each thing, it didn’t matter to me that 1 kg saboodana packets were meant for people with families, let me just take a look.
I do not remember stopping at the shelves with art supplies since the interest in art is a more recent development. It would only be six months later from then, that I’d be standing right there, staring at the stocked art shelves desperately looking for something that would essentially shake me out of my anxiety.
Anyway, I walked through the place stocked with toiletries, grabbed some sanitary napkins.
Shopping mode *activated* - “Damn Shravani you got to look good! grab that face mask (had different meaning in pre-corona times), face pack, face wash and that irrelevant pocket room freshener.” I remember having to take a moment and quickly grab a shopping basket since my hands were falling short. And there, at the billing counter was my destination. Nail Polish. Nykaa. “Grey color, wow!”, I thought to myself seeing how perfectly close the shade was close to the color of the saree I bought the preceding week. The saree was little too expensive, but never mind.
I glanced through the shades until I found a transparent gold-glitter nail polish for my friend. I paid for both- ₹200 each.
********
I was now standing in the balcony at my home in Hyderabad- just recovering from the zone out- the time travel to the past. The nail polish in my hand had overwhelmed me enough, so, I put it back. Yes, the same shade-116. The sky looked like it was going to rain and I could not contain myself, “What was I, an 18-year-old who thought life had just begun”. At eighteen, I remembered from the episode, I was a generous, naïve girl.
I could not picture myself now, to invest ₹200 on something as trivial as a nail polish, that too, for a friend- as my 18-year-old-self did. I suddenly was not a kid anymore. At 18, all I worried about was to study well, to look good, to have boys fall for me- each one of who I'd eventually reject.
At nearly 21, as talks of marriage were only getting real, I was of the opinion “Life is shit”, “Boys are waste”. It was a long time since the kindness I subconsciously upheld all my life took a grand sunset. I only wanted to guard myself from people and all things. I learnt to look at everything through a lens of scepticism.
It had been only an hour after my therapist said about something on the call, “It’s only a year left for you in college, do not try to change anything about it.” At 18, on the early November evening, it was only the beginning of everything.
As my insides began to fight, I felt hurt. I also simultaneously had an urge to grab that pouch from the dressing table’s cupboard. The pouch was singly assigned to contain nail polishes, largely expired.
I remember the creamy black one- for the 2019 anxiety, the boomer pink that went perfectly with my bubble tops of 2016-17, through the clueless intermediate phase, “The Great Depression”.
I also remember the day in December 2015, when my favorite teacher noticed my chocolate-brown painted nails. She demanded that I show my nails to her after I hid my fists behind my back. I was supposed to be the best student at school after all, it was a question of my reputation. I hesitantly put my hands forth anticipating to be caned. To my surprise, she took my hands in hers lovingly and admired the color on my nails. She squeezed my palms and told me that she was delighted that my hands were fluff. I remember the warm motherly feeling I felt as my 15-year-old-self looked up to her.
Through all these years of my life, it’s funny what these inanimate objects-as trivial as nail polishes- could hold for me.
Change, is the only thing, you and I are doing every moment but when this change comes to manifest itself before your eyes, can you take it?
It’s overwhelming and I shut doors at it only to open my heart to it after a while, a little by little. Just like the first beam of early sunlight lights up the house through the corners of the curtains- a little by little.
As I pour my heart out on this sheet of paper, I still feel overwhelmed by how much and how vividly I remember everything. I plan to let it sink and probably go out to buy a “pista green” coloured nail polish to mark this day.
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