Fleeting Colours of Life

My face conveyed what I felt when I looked at him with pleading eyes. He looked back at me with a straight face and said, “I’ll do what I can. I can’t promise anything.”


And with that one statement, he brought my past crashing down. If only he knew what I had to lose and the enormity of what was going to slip through my fingers. A strange sense of helplessness took over me.


I walked back home and called one of my technology whiz friends to update him on the latest developments since he had given up on repairing my hard disk. He sounded very casual when he told me that a “good” hard disk would last only for five years.


I hung up dejected, walked ahead and saw a small Photo-Print shop, probably the last of its kind, in which the owner seemed to be asleep at the counter. But of course he would be, because in this age of smart phones and digital cameras, he was fighting a lost battle.


The frustration I felt came out in the form of ramblings in my diary-



“I have lived a full life and captured every moment for me to reminisce in the future.


I see my mother go through her wedding album page by page, and wish we were back to photo albums because they were truly the storybooks of life. I would always sit in front of my laptop and smile at the pixilated image in front of me not knowing what a short life span it has.


Today, the memories of the past five years of my life sit in a shop trying to revive themselves, and I can’t help but think about my college farewell, the many dance or drama performances, the family functions and numerous other memories which were buried deep in that hard disk. Decked up, I would smile thinking that this photo is going to be a keepsake forever.


But where do I put my memories? I want to fight against this tide of digital photos, and get a camera. A camera in which I can put that tiny roll of film, run to get my photos developed and laugh at the negatives.


I am done with deleting memories to save space. I am done with a hundred photos of trying to look candid. Give me a camera that can take only a limited number of photos, and I will capture just the best of memories.”


I wiped off a silent tear and heard my phone ring, “Ma’am, we have managed to retrieve sixty GB worth of photos and videos. The rest are all movies and documents which we will continue to work on.”


I thanked them and hung up quickly so that they wouldn’t hear my voice break.


60 out of 600 GB of data, and I still couldn’t stem my tears of joy.

 


Image Courtesy: www.pixabay.com

 

 


 

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