Ive been staring at these open suitcases strewn everywhere. Pouches with toilataries.(p.s. they add excess weight.) Boots to slip ons, Hoodies to swimwear ,books speaker, I pad, I pod and the adapters.

I’ve been living out of suitcases since January. And I don’t regret it one bit. If I could I would make this a way of life. Sneakers worn out.

I love traveling, setting up home in hotel rooms, taking on challenges, pushing my boundaries,stepping

Out of my comfort zone and exploring places and people.

Vagabond, gypsy whatever you may call me. I proudly wear these names like the dream catchers and baggage tags that are pinned to my bags from across the globe.

Packing is very methodical for me. Everything in the same family of clothing goes togthr even the socks. I have a list I tick mark. I can almost be a professional packer. But today somehow something’s evidently off. I’ve packed and unpacked 4 times. either

I’m carrying too Much or too little

A lot of the stuff I won’t wear but I carry it anyways just incase. I go to pick a garment from the wardrobe n then start cleaning the wardrobe completely forgetting why I went there in the first place. I stare at the floor go fr walk around the house hoping the stuff packs itself in but the strew stuff hasn’t moved an inch.

No this isn’t a lesson on how to pack a bag……!its actually about something else.

It’s about how lost I am. Completely occupied, anxious, nervous, palpitating, and sad.

Sad coz I’m still nursing a massive hangover of the shoot I just returned from. I miss my costume, script, the claustrophobic, hot, sweaty set….They ridiculous call times and a list of scenes that put pages to shame. I miss the chaos,the madness,the unpredictability.

I miss the one hour early morning drive to set. I miss the brown ugly van. The shooting Wala chai. I miss the ritual of wearing my costume and and taping the mic wire all over so it wouldn’t show. (believe me its a challenge). I miss the barely any makeup just moisturised face wit thick shaped brows in the mirror.

I miss the script reading in the van. And most of all I miss seeing all the groggy,sleep deprived, overworked, yet over excited enthusiastic faces wishing me good morning with smiling faces and tight hugs…. I miss their(and my) goofiness, humour and wicked jokes . I miss the people for who they were and who they made me.

I Miss them. Some have became friends forever,(I love),some acquaintances (I adore and respect tremendously). And some, family I’ll cherish for yrs to come.

We have exchanged numbers, made promises to meet and keep in touch with every intention of doing so…..but I also know life happens, people move on, do other projects, meet other people, exchange numbers and make the same promises. Which even if one wants to can’t always be honoured.

But then, there are certain people who become more than acquaintances, friends and family.

There are some relationships……. which can’t be explained. It’s everything put together. And more. And yet there’s an ambiguity in it, in which lies its beauty. Those relationships have no words to describe them. And if there are no words then there can’t be a story.

Lost will be those 3months of togetherness, the passion, the pain, the absolute focus and devotion, the insanity and sanity and love and sheer madness and magic that went into creating something so so special. And slowly as time takes its toll everything will disintegrate, dissipate and dissolve into a

Memory.

The problem is I cant let go so easily or so fast. I nurse the hangover of memories till it turns melancholy and hurts.

And it pains me to think it’ll only be reduced to memories in my heart.

Ofcourse It will be archived on celluloid forever but with a crisp sharp edit.

No “in between the lines” to read or imagine.