This is about reclaiming yourself as something that holds value even after being lost, broken, and quintessentially forgotten. Vintage here has been used as a metaphor for holding value.

can you imagine that one day
we cease to exist
and all that’s left behind
suddenly becomes of value
maybe it’s the watch that
your dad wore to work every day of his
life
its old
the straps are falling off
the name has chipped off the last time
your dad dropped it in a hot cup of coffee
but when they’re gone

and all that’s left is a suitcase full of memorabilia

that doesn’t somehow seem like baggage

its vintage

it’s that old shelf of books that your grandmother
has managed to keep standing for over
forty years
of odds and ends
maybe there is a jar of baby teeth if you reach the far back of it
and your mum’s school pictures and your grandfathers first medal
but when the dust settles,
its vintage

i want my memory to be vintage
have value
be ingrained in the
giant vastness of what human history is
vintage

small jars of the happiest moments
of a life well lived
smaller jars of alcohol soaked mistakes
and giant ones of regret
all vintage

imagine that one day
when all of this is over
you remember that you hold value
like that gilded mirror your grandma left
you
or the old cassette player that was your dad’s.

you’ve managed to live
love
survive through days months and years
and the lines on your face, as fine as your first silk saree

are all testament to how you’ve weathered through the storm too

you’re all vintage.

By Dakshta Ahlawat

Dakshta in a parallel universe is an avid consumer of anime and anything remotely able to make her cry. In her real life she is an aspiring policy analyst and is chronicling her daily pursuits and struggles on Twitter- @chickenachaar and instagram – @antidakshtaclub