Why do people collect unusual items? To someone who doesn’t collect, it might appear strange, a waste of time and space. But for those who collect, it’s the opposite.
When they come across something unique and rare, their immediate thought is to save its beauty for themselves and to showcase it on their prized shelf. They can’t bear to let the beauty of the item go to waste.
It cannot be any truer that “beauty is in the eyes of the beholder”, as Margaret Wolfe Hungerford said. However, she didn’t explain how that beholder might act irrationally to continually appreciate that beauty or the methods they employ to acquire it.
Triya, a twenty-one-year-old second-year art student, was living in a rented apartment on the second floor. Tall in physic, brown for her skin, long black strands for hair, black eyes, and sharp features as her weapon. She was beautiful in everyone’s eyes.
She possessed a nature of joy, a personality so free, like wind in cold weather. Everyone around her adorned her for her kindness, for how sweet and carefree she was, and for how intelligent she was.
But no one knew a side she had kept hidden. A side that could make eyes wide open, mouths to gasp in shock, and hearts to flutter with passion or fear.
And that is because she possessed a similar fascination for collecting unique items, driven by the desire to capture their beauty for herself. Whether you call it a fascination or obsession, it was about to introduce a heavy tide into her otherwise calm life.
And it began on a cool and misty autumn morning. She was hurriedly scurrying around her cluttered room, not as usual, preparing to head to college after a late night.
She gathered her painting supplies from her disheveled bed, the carpeted floor, and from the table beside her bed, stuffing them in her black beg. A bite of a pulpy red apple from a paper bag on her table, her blue water bottle on her left, and she was checking around to see if she had forgotten something.
After mentally reviewing her checklist, her gaze drifted to the brown shelves on the right side of her bed, adorned by the collection of sculptures, paintings, pens, coins, and various other items. A sense of satisfaction surfaced on her face, a feeling of fulfillment forming inside her stomach.
She then locked the door with great care, given its proximity to the shelf, and stepped into the corridor of her apartment. Unbeknownst to her, it was the beginning of what would turn out to be an extraordinary day, one that would reveal her hidden depths.
Despite running late, she hurried down the pavement towards her college, still absorbing the serene morning atmosphere with its calm air, the melodious chirping of birds, and the bustling traffic.
Fortunately, her apartment was so close to the college that she didn’t need to fret about being tardy. But there was another reason for her brisk pace – her dearest friend, Prisha.
Prisha, an artist of the same age, shared a passion for the creative world. Slightly shorter than Triya, she possessed a delicate beauty with short black hair, black eyes, and fair skin, making them a perfect complement to each other.
Among their group of six friends, Prisha had become Triya’s closest confidante, to the extent that people often assumed they had known each other for years despite having met just last semester.
“Good morning. You’re running late,” Prisha remarked with surprise as Triya stopped in front of her, amidst the bustling crowd. “Good morning! I stayed up late last night,” Triya replied with a quirk in her tone, a signal of a happening event.
“What kept you busy last night?” Prisha asked, responding to Triya’s signal, her teasing tone and eagerness for details evident as they walked side by side.
Triya wore a smirk as she strolled from the garden to the building’s entrance.
“Did you have sex or something?” Prisha added with wide-eyed curiosity, her face lit up with excitement.
Triya’s initial reaction of disgust slowly transformed into disappointment after hearing Prisha’s wild imagination, and she replied, “What? No! I haven’t found the right person for that,” much to Prisha’s chagrin.
“I just used the new toy I bought, and it was incredibly relieving after such a long time,” Trisha admitted with her face full of pleasure, quickly observing the disappointment on Prisha’s face deepen. “What? You’re not happy?”
“No! I mean, that’s good, really good! Things have been stressful lately. But it would have been even better if it was with a real guy, you know,” Prisha’s tone carried a hint of longing as if she secretly wished for it every day. But she quickly brushed off her disappointment, looking at Triya, who seemed thoroughly exasperated with her.
“Anyway, have you decided what to paint?” she asked, changing the subject, and received a sigh of resignation from Triya. “Hmm, don’t worry. Inspiration will come to you naturally.”
“I know, but I just feel like nothing will captivate me anymore. My mind feels stuck.” Triya expressed her frustration and exhaustion in her tone. Prisha nodded sympathetically as they reached their class, where they greeted more of their close friends: Jay, Siya, Nitin, and Karan.
Laughter echoed in the bustling cafeteria as Triya’s group occupied the tables on the right, enjoying their break. “Have you decided what to paint?” Nitin, a young boy of the same age, asked Karan in a subtle tone, meant only for him, but it came out audible to Triya.
“I have,” With a dim tone Karan replied, a warm smile covering his face.
Despite being the same age, he was, unlike the others in his group, quiet and secretive. His presence among confident and lively peers was because of Nitin and his shared passion for art. Karan’s enthusiasm aligned with the group, making him part of them.