Paper Fish

I've never had an aquarium in my life.

Recently I bought a pair of shoes which cost me Rs.2200/-. Made of black leather, they're really comfortable to wear to work on the odd day that I do feel like wearing formals, as opposed to a T-shirt and a pair of jeans.

Back in my school days, a pair of Bata Naughty Boy cost almost ten times less. They came in boxes made of rough, yellowing cardboard, covered in yellow paper. The box, approximately rectangular parallelepiped, was a big draw, for me. It had the smell of a new book.

I would take the box, and line one of the sides with glue and sand and weed clippings. I would then draw aquatic scenery in the background. Finally, I would cut out a side to leave just a frame, and cover the top of the box with hard cellophane. Then I made paper fish -origami or cutout- and threaded them to the cut side of the box with matchsticks tied to the other ends of the strings. Carefully, I would put the cut side back on the frame, and would cellotape it together. Once I flipped the box to the side, the cellophaned top now facing front, and the sandlined side on the ground, it looked just like an aquarium. I would keep it and fuss with it just as if the fish were real. The fish mostly moved up and down with help of the matchsticks, but later I fashioned out fixed tracks along which I could move the little animals. I cannot say I miss my paper fish, but I do miss the ease at which happiness could be found in cardboard boxes.

I've never had an aquarium in my life; but for several years, that never stopped a few paper fish from coming to life on damp Calcutta afternoons.