making room

Illustrations by Harshita Borah

I moved out of my hometown 12 years ago. Brokers who drank my blood, housing society interviews, updating my address on amazon, finding the closest Nature’s Basket – sum up my annual rituals in Bombay. This taught me not to ‘unpack’ and I’ve pretty much lived out of cardboard boxes ever since.

Thanks to the virus, it’s been six months since I moved out of Bombay and back to my hometown. Now, I wake up to the morning sun hitting my face from the wrong direction. To a different doorbell at 7am. And to an extremely unfamiliar AC temperature. I never considered how it’s actually the tiny details that tie us to a place, that makes it familiar. And I guess that’s what makes it home?

Oh, how carefully I had planned my move, with lists and logistics to make sure I didn’t leave a single thing, that I thought was important, behind. Everything I needed had to be shipped back here. But what about the things I can’t carry back with me? Things that are ‘replaceable’ like my old pair of slippers, or my favourite non-stick pan that did not fit in the boxes. Or feelings and habits that make a home, but don’t make it with us when we move out?

I guess moving to a new house (or an old one) is just about making room for new habits and episodes that will turn it into a home, till they can be replaced again.

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editor's note

Volume 10

contact | shadow | fringe

I’ve been reflecting on the theme for our tenth volume, a lovely milestone that coincides serendipitously with the warehouse’s tenth year, and how it feels apt for the moment we find ourselves in currently. The theme straddles a threshold. The movement from this side to the far side. It isn’t inherently accompanied by an emotion. And yet, I feel it suggests a sense of hopefulness. 

This isn’t in a vacuum but is influenced by two events that concern themselves with a tremendous threshold: our atmosphere and the expanse beyond it. I am referring to the successful flyby mission around the moon by the Artemis II and the release of the film “Project Hail Mary” (adapted from Andy Weir’s novel of the same name). These two events, coinciding in this manner, serve less as random happenstance and more as a reminder, as Carl Sagan said, “The Cosmos is within us. We are made of star-stuff.” A reminder that everything out there, is also everything in here. It serves as a reminder for hope that as we resume our exploration of the darkest depths of the universe, we must take that strength to step forward from our own personal shadows.

Shadows can be freeing. There is comfort in creating, expressing, and working without scrutiny or pressure or expectation. It has potential for great freedom, movement, and discovery. However, when the driving force isn’t exploration then it can be crippling and lead to paralysis. In those moments, “coincidental” events like these can be arresting and provide a sense of hope that the next step is all that matters. One step at a time soon becomes many past an imposing threshold. As we gather momentum, pressure is bound to build. It is here, with changed circumstances, that the intention must persevere. Learning the rules, allows the impact of breaking them to feel that much sweeter, but that isn’t necessary. Acting from pure instinct allows for an innate expression to present itself. It is balancing this, instinct versus experience, that proves vital to take experience into one’s stride with child-like instinct and intention.

Our focus, at imprint and G5A, on independent stories allows this freedom. It is something we work to preserve so that the experience of ten volumes and ten years, respectively, does not weigh us down but lifts us up through the shadows and into the expanse. This is not easy but it is simple. When you default to curiosity and wonder, it isn’t a matter of ‘if’ but ‘when’.

We’re excited for Volume 10 and everything it will hold.