The Yellow Photo Album

Memory is a powerful thing; perhaps more than we can account for. And it was the desire to dip into those memories that made me pick the yellow photo album that particular day.

The yellow photo album stands out among the many photo albums in our cabinet. Granted it was the color that made it stand out, but it was also something else. Many photo albums had something assigned to them: our parent’s wedding, my eldest brother’s childhood, my elder brother’s childhood, my childhood, dad’s trips, our graduations, my eldest brother’s wedding and many more. But the yellow photo album was different. It was like the new kid that stood out different among the crowd of students. The yellow photo album is a melting pot of random photos. It has no one particular event or purpose. It is a jumble of my eldest brother’s stay in Japan, my cultural dress photos from school, wedding functions of our relatives, and my trip to China. And perhaps, it was this jumble, that made this yellow photo album even more beautiful, and made me pick it up time and again.

On that particular day, I came across a picture in the album; a photo of me and a little girl and just like that, memories got a hold of me. This little girl was the cutest, most bubbly, most spontaneous and excited little girl in our neighborhood, then. She loved to dress up, loved to play with me, loved what my mother made for her and she clung onto me whenever she could and I miss her embrace the most. This little bundle of happiness made my preadolescent life a joy and bearable (or so I thought at the time). And just like that, I found myself thinking like I have been through all these years: where must she be? What must she look like? Would she still remember me? But like always, I tucked the question back in my mind. After they had moved away, we had not been in touch with the family. It had been more than 15 years. How would I find her? I had tried social media in the past, but to no avail. Perhaps, I had always thought, some things are beautiful left unsaid and unfinished in your memories.

Every now and then, the yellow photo album called out to me and this year, that particular day was no different. What was different was my curiously and my drive. With different spellings of their surname and taking up the social media and google search by storm, somehow, with some luck, I was able to recognize the little girl on a poem recitation video, only she was not a little girl any more. My heart said it: this is her. This is exactly what she must look like. The eyes, the face; this is how she would look like. The little girl I picked up so many times in my arms and took places hand in hand has blossomed into this beautiful, intelligent, young woman whose shine is evident. And with god’s grace, I was finally able to wish her a very happy birthday this year after 15 long years.

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