9 By 9...

..is the dimension of my room.

But the memories I have of it, is a million times bigger than just 81 sq.ft.

Growing up, every boy needs to have his own room. I got mine pretty late but it wasn’t late enough, not that I had issues with sharing a room with my brother. That was fun alright, well of its own kind!

When we extended our house, there were be 2 rooms, one for each of us. One had the view of the road, and the other was slightly bigger. For obvious reasons there rose a lot of contention for the former. Eventually I got the “prized” room, although I don’t remember how. It was definitely not through a toss-of-a-coin, because they have never favored me much.

This room has seen a lot of things. My happiness, my sorrows, my ups, my downs, my thoughts, my dreams and some very important people of my Life. I share a special bond with this room. There is a sense of belongingness when I’m here. I connect to it. I’m just myself.

Whenever I come home, I just rush to my room. I just look around. Then my eyes rolls on to the rack when I have arranged my invaluables, VCDs, audio CDs and books. I can make out at a glance whether anyone has touched it. If they are in anyway rearranged, they are put back in place, diligently, which is a li’l “Monicaisque”. Sometimes, sitting back, I reminisce. The times when I got my first computer, the times when I used to tap my neighbor’s telephone line, the times when I was speaking on the phone with one of my “friend”, while dad was staring at me from the window, the times when I would just turn out the lights and look out the window at the empty streets, the times when I would watch an action movie with the 5 channel dolby surround on, the times when I would just lie on the bed and look at the stars, the times of my first ball dance, the times when I stuck Bipasha’s poster on the wall inviting the ire of my mom, the Times immemorial.

I don’t know what the future beholds, but where ever I’ll be, I’ll miss this part of my home, the most.