I grew up listening to stories of little elves who helped the poor shoemaker by stitching all his shoes while he was in a deep slumber. The elves stitched the tiny bits of leather lying around on his workplace and created beautiful shoes out of it. I almost brought myself to believe that my life too is a fairy tale and I relied on a power, some genie, an elf or a fairy godmother who would come to save me from the turmoil in my confined little world.
By the time I was ten, I started believing some more and eventually got a little disappointed while discovering the nihility of this possibility. But it wasn’t time for me to give up yet. Perhaps that’s what explains my interminable fascination with conspiracy theories. I always loved believing in the unexplainable and the magical. As I grew, my faith on the invincible to rescue me from the nuisance around sounded like a complete malarkey! My faith in the utopian power was almost equal to a pea by now. One reason for my degrading faith was my overarching expectation on something magical to Tailor all my problems by stitching them into something insouciant and a sudden realisation on its absolute lack of practicality.
As I turned out to be old enough to behold the incalculable nature of life, I realised that it perhaps wasn’t the elves who helped the shoemaker get out of his misery but his own assiduous nature and hard work that helped him get out of his despairing state of being. I realised that there are no magic elves after all, but me, who has to stitch every broken piece to hold my life together. This was the saddest realisation that I came across.
I started observing around and noticed the masterly tailors around me, each one holding their life together with mere stitches. Stitches, that come off at times, but heals again turning into a new piece of cloak. I discovered how different people had different ways to deal with their baggage of problems in order to survive. Some show off their stitches like battle scars while some hide them with a cloak of invisibility. I had the freedom to choose my way and I chose to hide them all. Pretending that they don’t exist became my only way of survival.