A gift from Nanima

I grew up and lived in my grandma's home by the sea till I was 6 years old. A home always filled with joy and laughter, aunt, uncles, cousins, neighbours and love. Both my parents worked and live in the city with my elder siblings, hence the reason me of living apart during my younger years, and also at that time, they felt safer having loved ones look after me instead of strangers in their absence. When it was time for me to start primary school, after kindergarten, I had to move to my parents house. I remember I felt excited about the new life ahead and getting to spend time with my siblings but at the same time, feeling an immense sadness that has never left me unfortunately. That house was another kind of growing up experience, bittersweet, good memories of teenage years and friendship, lifechanging moments, also, the place where my 6 years old self who had just come from a happy home experienced for the first time what domestic violence was, and the scars it left were so deep, they will stay for a lifetime.

For my first day of school, my grandma had given me a stationary set, which included a small pair of orange scissors. One day I lost the scissors and I felt like the worst person ever, my heart was completely broken, I had, and still have, a strong attachment to anything related to my grandma, and I could not get over how lonely that little pair of scissors must be feeling, all scared somewhere far from 'home', a rather strange thing I started doing back then was to associate feelings with everything, even objects, and for me as a child, I projected myself in that little pair of scissors and felt abandoned, which is why maybe, as small and common as an occurence it might have been for a child to lose something, it has stayed with me til now. Talking about scissors, my mother taught me sewing and crochet since a very young age, and I have it etched in my mind now to always keep my fabric and paper scissors separate, after the many lectures I have had about how I have ruined her good pair of fabric scissors after it to cut paper or to cut my hair. My love for sewing and craft come from my grandma, ma and aunt. They were the ones who taught me all the basics of crochet, embroidery, sewing and I remember how I used to sit next to them and watch in awe how their fingers twist and turn so quick and effortlessly, with such mastery that they could look at you in the eyes, talking and focussing on absolutely anything else while their fingers were creating magic. They have been my starting point and my guiding light towards discovering where my passion lies.

A project that I hold close to my heart, which hopefully will see the light of the day when and if life permits, is to open a craft store where I can sell handicrafts, such as clothes, sewing crafts, paintings/ prints, clay/ceramic and use the space to run workshops both paid and free, to help as many people as I possibly can, discover their talent and passion for those things that I love doing. I feel happiest when I make things with my hand and see the final results, vibrant and full of all the emotions I felt while crafting them. I don't do well mentally or physically otherwise. This is a snippet of my life story, one of my biggest hope and project.