WELCOME TO TROPHYCUS....

Once upon a time, in a land that is your present, there existed a kingdom.  A kingdom named ‘Trophycus’. In that kingdom, according to the revered yet secretive laws of the land, the status of a plebeian was decided based on the number of trophies his family could garner and showcase in their cemented abode. The social acceptability, repute and honour of the ‘Trophycus’ clan, depended solely on the quantity of trophies glistening in their shelves. I belong to ‘Trophycus’.

Like every other house, our house too had a main room or as I call it, the drawing room. The drawing room had a big diwan strategically placed to get the best view of the television, a brown sofa, two nilkamal chairs and one big cabinet. A big cabinet of trophies, big and small. Being the only child in the family till the age of 8, the task was bestowed upon me to fill up the shelves with the fruits of my victories. The cabinet was divided ‘generation’ wise. The lowest storey held the trophies and medals that my grandfather won. Trophies so old, that they resembled the artefacts collected from a lost ship. The latest addition and the only shining piece was the medal he won for winning a game of carrom in his company’s anniversary celebration in 1981.  The next row, contained the metallic accolades that my father and his two siblings managed to acquire. Trophies ranging from ‘Best Student M.Sc (Physics)’ to ‘2^rd Prize Javelin throw’ to even ‘Complimentary prize Fashion Show Year 1983’ were all part of this row. The above mentioned three, won by my father. I was a proud daughter who had to accomplish a colossal feat and usurp the record maintained by my father.  

When I was born, the top shelf was cleaned and the show pieces that had been a substitute till now were removed, except for the giant face of  Kathakali because you are not a Malayalee family, until you have one of those on your shelf. I was the rightful heir of that tier and I had been assigned the mammoth task of filling it up. Fill, I did!

The little me participated in everything. Patriotic song competitions, lemon & spoon race, handwriting competitions, essay writing (mostly written by my delegate Dad) and the horrific ‘best out of waste’ competitions were all participated in. Some were won and many were lost, but the mania for trophy never stopped. I even joined a French class in 5^th grade, imagining myself receiving a trophy at the end of the 6 month course at ‘Alliance Francaise de Bhopal’. Buggers gave me an odd looking certificate. The essay competition on the importance of ‘ZERO’ organized by the Lions club where everyone looked quite human, was also won, but it won me some cash. Who wants cash? Let’s talk about trophy!  

 

That is why I love ‘Bhopal Malayalee Association’ where fellow malayalees understood the importance of trophies on the shelf and where even a participation rendered you a medal or a cup that you could proudly take home to your beloved drawing room trophy cabinet. They understood my true intentions. My all time favourite is the dolphin shaped trophy and the three hundred rupees they gave me for getting a full house in Tambola .

 

And then it all went downhill. During my 3^rd year at Law school, when I was states away from my shelf of accolades, we sold our ancestral house. So, we sold our old house and moved to a new one. A new one with no shelf in the drawing room. No place to showcase my genius in the form of golden trophies and silver medals. The metal prizes of three generations sat orphaned inside cardboard boxes, with no room for future accommodation. I still remember that dreadful night in 2012 when a call was received my me, where the person on the other side of the receiver sought my permission to sell the trophies to a local kabadi wala who was offering us five notes of hundred for three boxes of trophies. 500 rupees for 3 generations of talent. I mumbled a faint OK and kept the receiver, welcoming a sleepless night ahead. That was the end of an era.

 

So, you ask me, why do I write of it now. Well, the place I stay in currently, has a shelf. A shelf where my little 7 yr old cousin keeps her Barbies and fairytale books.

And It aches!

 

P.S- I am extremely homesick. You should meet my family. They are amazing. :)