Bye-bye, Bunky

As a kid, I believed that every wish made on an eyelash would come true.

Now, this wasn’t because I was gullible. I questioned and I experimented. My belief came into existence because at the age of seven, I wished on a fallen eyelash for two materialistic possessions that seemed crucial for my existence.

I regularly wished for a bunk bed and a bean bag.

A  few months ago, I had accompanied my dear mother and my aunt to a furniture exhibition. All I remember from that experience is the abundance of free candies and the presence of beautiful furniture that managed to grab and hold the attention of a disinterested seven year old. Oh and the fancy vegetable chopper cum peeler.

It was there that I first got acquainted with the existence of bunk beds and bean bags.

They fascinated me. It was a bed with a ladder! And a chair that could mould itself according to the size of my butt and my posture! Science! Wow! Miracles!

Safe to say I was persistent and obstinate in my demand for a bunk bed and a bean bag to both, the universe and my parents.

(What a brat!)

I wished on every eyelash for them. Every. Single. One.

Maybe it was the universe or maybe it was my doting parents, but the following July I became a proud owner of a bean bag.

I remember taking turns with my friends to bounce and jump on it during my birthday party. I warmed up easily to my bean bag whom I named bean bag.

We moved to a new flat soon after my 7th birthday. Our new home was bigger, airier and I got my own room. I shared it with my grandparents but it was still a lot more space than I was used to. I was very excited.

My parents gradually began the long, expensive process of furnishing the house to their taste (and mine). I got Tom & Jerry curtains, a proper dressing table and my very own bunk bed with a cute little ladder. I called it Bunky.

I was a goddamn coward as a kid. Ghosts terrified me. As did the dark. I refused to sleep on the upper bunk because I was terrified some malicious entity would whisk me away in my sleep and my darling grandparents wouldn’t know until the next morning. By then, it would be too late and I would be lost for ever and ever and ever.

I had an active imagination. I read a lot.

Don’t judge me.

I didn’t sleep on Bunky. However, I would often climb up the ladder and curl up with a book. I would remain undisturbed for hours.

When I did start sleeping up eventually, I realised that Bunky offered privacy that I would not get any other way. I could put up posters and I did. High School Musical taught me to get my head in the game and Shahid Kapoor was super hot.

I wasn’t scared anymore because I had won a Harry Potter frame at the mall which I stuck on the wall. Harry Potter watched over me as I slept with his wand drawn out.

(His wand with a phoenix feather and not…you know…)

I could keep a stack of books with me and never get bored or worse disturbed. There were times when I would be reading so silently that my mom would spend hours looking for me. I would be found only when I slithered down the ladder.

I had become quite good at climbing up and down ladders.

When I began writing in earnest, there wasn’t a better spot to jot down some words than Bunky.

I had stuck glow-in-the-dark stars to the ceiling. Staying up gazing at the ceiling became a past time.

Bunky had become a haven of sorts for me. I spent years making it my own and loving the bed. I understood why beds were such a big deal during Shakespearean times. Beds are a reflection of the owner/user. The pillow I used (a multicoloured turtle shaped one), my three sheets- duvet, shawl and the typical solapuri chaddar were an expression of my personality. My sense of individuality was on a constant rise.

But as all things must, this blissful period too came to an end.

I eventually stopped sleeping on the bunk because my grandfather  complained (he slept on the lower bunk) that the bed moved too much as I rolled over in sleep.

Then my dad passed away and I ended up sleeping in the same room as mom to fill the emptiness he left behind.

I turned twenty this year. My mom had been trying to convince me to dismantle the upper bunk for the past three years.

I knew that I wouldn’t be sleeping on the upper bunk ever again. Due to lack of use, the sheets and the mattress used to get incredibly dusty. Bunky became a place to dump broken toys and other things.

It was time. I gave in to mom’s wish.

Three days ago, she called a carpenter and Bunky was dismantled. Bunky has now been reduced to a few planks of wood and a mattress.

Sure, the room looks brighter and feels more open. It is airier and my sister and I now have an entire wall for our posters.

All of this doesn’t make up for the strong sense of loss I felt when I first entered the horribly empty room. My gut sank and I felt lost. The room felt alien to me.

If I am being honest, I hadn’t expected such an intense reaction from myself. I barely called Bunky Bunky anymore. I hadn’t slept there in over three years.

But damn, it hurt. The hollowness of the room mirrored a hollow pit in my stomach. I couldn’t bear to enter that room for a few days.

Turning 18 didn’t feel so much like a loss of childhood as this did. I won’t ever slide up the ladder with a book in hand ever again. I no longer have my very own reading nook. I won’t ever fear falling off the bed and landing on the person sleeping below ever again. I won’t ever sulk away on the upper bunk ever again. I won’t do any of the million things that I used to up there.

I am 20, I no longer have a bunk bed and this eerily feels like the time to start adulting for real.

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4 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. aishwaryabhuta
    Nov 01, 2016 @ 06:45:20

    Hey, I know how it feels. I too occupy the upper bunk in my dormitory. It is narrow and only someone as lean as me could fit in. But I wouldn’t trade it for the world’s most luxurious bed. Sadly, I’ll have to bid adieu to it this April when my course ends and I will have to return home.
    It’s alright; you’ll get another one soon. And whenever you miss your bed, just write to me. We’ll indulge into our nostlagic bunk tales. Till then, Bunky misses you too! :*

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

  2. theconfusedwriterblog
    Nov 01, 2016 @ 17:57:05

    You made me miss my bunk bed now…..and today I was talking about the happiness of having a bunk bed…..
    Oh you writer! 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

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