Ode to my Comforter

The point of this blog is for me to be able to capture my rambling thoughts and my reactions to new pieces of information when I am alone in my room (don’t worry amma, I really do have friends & am capable of socializing). But yes, I am currently alone in my room. My roommate has gone for the NJAC judgement analysis – which I really wanted to go for, but I am unwell.

Hence, I shall blog.

The title is strange, but hopefully, you’ll understand all my feels at the end of this post. Right now I’m thinking about how much I’ve grown. Let’s not be silly, I’m not very old, but I have changed from when I was a toddler. Something that a lot of people tell me that at weddings/every family reunion ever. Aunties, uncles, yes I have grown older and taller. It’s only been about 15 years since you last saw me and I fit into your arms. I also find it uncanny that a lot of them are able to create an accurate measurement of your height (c. 2000) between their arms. Every Ajji/Tata/Uncle/Aunty can do it. While I stand and awkwardly smile, because I have zero memory of being the size of 2 30 cm Faber-Castell rulers.

Anyway, you get the point. I have grown.

Today, I was informed via Whatsapp by my mother that White Collar had lost my Mickey Mouse comforter. Hence this post. I will now describe this Mickey Mouse comforter and tell you about all the feels/memories said Mickey Mouse comforter holds (and now, held).

Essentially, the story begins in 2004. I was 6 years old and was making my second trip alone to Bangalore, from Dubai. I had convinced my parents to allow me to fly as an Unaccompanied Minor for my 5th birthday, and spent two months in India under the able care of my grandparents, aunt & uncle. One in Bangalore, and one in Pune. The schedule was the same this time around (as far as I can remember). One month in Bangalore – visit all of the family, attend a couple of poojas, go to MG Road  & buy stuff for the mother, go to Pune, spend about 3 weeks there, return to Bangalore for a week, and then fly back to Dubai.

I remember these flights pretty well. I used to use the UM badge to get all sorts of benefits – a couple of magazines to draw/colour in, go to see the cockpit (which fuelled my love of aeronautics/becoming a pilot – something I dropped when I got glasses) and so on. Manipulative 6 year old Tejas, 17 year old Tejas salutes you. You were awesome (you still are).

So, naturally, when I came back home carrying goodies from India (such as amazing pickle made by my Pune grandmum, bangles, and so on), I expected goodies to be at home (considering I had been away for 2 months). I never made this too obvious though. Didn’t want the parents to think I was greedy and whatnot.

When I returned aged 6, the conversation started as we passed the old 4×4 showroom and got onto the road with Dubai Flower Centre to our right. As we took the right past the Mazda showroom, my mom said there was a massive surprise at home. We lived in a small, one bedroom apartment called A-201, and I was supremely excited. I remember walking, almost running into the bedroom, where I stopped.

The old computer and computer table was gone. I wailed on the inside. I loved that computer. It ran Windows 98 and everything. Was pretty great – I could play What Next? and other classic board games on it.

I squealed on the outside. In it’s place was this beautiful bunkbed which looked like a house. It had a ladder and everything, for me to climb up onto it. Below, there was storage space, for all of my toys, and cars – stored securely in a yellow Molto trolley I still possess.

I loved it. It was all mine, and only I could fit on it. I had a mad fear of heights, so climbing up was tough, but when I got there, I felt like the king of the world. I admired the beauty of the teal-green panels, the vermillion/cream coloured curtains which lined the storage, and chuckled. I was to sleep at a height far above my parents. Almost as if I was their guardian. So rad (My vocabulary wasn’t that expansive – I believe “cool” was the in word I used repeatedly.

The sheets and comforter were light cream in complexion. So warm and fuzzy. They had images of pizza and random caricatured boys and girls chilling and playing around. I adored it. We expanded this single cover/duvet set by adding two more. One blue coloured Winnie the Pooh set, and a yellow, Disney licenced Mickey Mouse set.

These three sets lasted me till I graduated 12th and moved to college. I used them in rotation. Didn’t ask for a new one, didn’t even think about it. If you know me, you know how excited I get about new things, and how sentimental I get with such things.The memories that the duvets have – too many to count. They stood by me when I was ill, when I was sad, when I napped on the sofa, when I was glad. Those covers gave me protection from the monsters under the bed, and the mosquitos in the air. The comforter was truly a comforter. It wasn’t a rasaai, it was a friend.

The idea of the Mickey Mouse comforter being lost has rocked me to my very core. I am sad. I mean, that’s a part of my childhood I don’t think I’ll see again. My memories have literally, just been washed away. (sorry for laundry pun)

This is what growing up feels like. You create new memories, at the cost of having to replace some old ones. Here’s to that mustard yellow Mickey Mouse comforter, where Mickey and Minnie were lavender purple for contrast. Here’s to being there when I had my teeth extracted. Here’s to me covering myself in you while napping on our comfortable sofa (sorry, amma, I know I’m not meant to sleep there). I will miss you.

Note: Mom managed to fight them to get us a cheque for the cost of the comforter. What a stud.

In Memoriam, Mickey Mouse comforter (c. 2004 – 2016)