Shreejita Mukherjee, Class VII of Epic Public School shares a mystical journey where she visits Island of Lost Things , a place where forgotten treasures and memories resurface.
Hello! I am called Shreejita, Shreejita Mukherjee. It has been my passion to travel since I was a child. I know not when, I gradually developed a keen passion to wander into lost places over a period of time. The narrative I am about to share is on one such experiences.
It was not until recently I realised I have not been for such a trip for some time now. So I decided to search for one particular lost island out of many lost things which I could find.
Three days later I found myself on a boat headed for a journey with my friends. As I stood on the edge of the small boat the salty spray of the ocean misted my face. It was then that I felt a sense of the prediction wash over me. I have been searching for this place for years, bordering over dusty old maps, and crumbling manuscripts, talking to sailors and fishermen who had whispered me the tales of a mystical inland where many lost items and belongings of people went to rest. They called it the “Island of Lost Things”, a place where the flotsman and jetsam of the world accumulated, where the lost and the forgotten came to rest.
I had always been drawn to the idea of such a place, a place where the past and the present converged, where the last and the forgotten could be found.
As the boat drew closer to the island, I could see that it was a place of wild beauty, with towering palm trees and sugar white sand beaches but it was also a place of decay and neglect, with crumbling ruins and tangled vines. The boat scraped against the shore, and then I stepped out into the sand feeling the warm sun on my skin and the cool breeze in my hair. I looked around, talking in the sights and sounds of the island. As l walked through the ruins, I began to notice strange things. I got a child’s toy, half buried in the sand. A piece of jewellery glinting in the sunlight. A book, its pages torn and tattered.
I realised, with a start, that these were not just any lost things. They were things that had been lost by people, things that had been treasured and loved. And as l walked through the ruins, l began to feel a sense of connection to the people who had lost these things. I spend hours exploring the island, uncovering secrets and discovering treasures. And as the sun began to set, I came across a small weather box half buried in the sand.
I opened the box and inside, I found a small golden locket. It was beautifully patterned and designed. And as I turned it over in my hand I felt a sudden urge of recognition. This was my mother’s locket, the one she had lost on a family vacation when I was just a child. I had always remembered the story of how she had lost it, how she has cried for days I still remember those drops of tears she has on the floor. As I held the locket in my hand, I filled in wonder and awe. ”How did it end up on this island of lost things? And what other secrets and phrases lay hidden here, waiting to be discovered?” I thought to myself.
I spent the starry night on the Island, sleeping under the stars and dreaming of the secrets and treasures lay hidden here, which seemed to be waiting for me and as I sailed away the next morning, I knew that I would never forget this place, The magical island of lost things.
Years later I returned to the island but this time with my own child, we spent hours exploring the ruins and uncovering mysteries and secrets. And as we walked through the island, I told my child the story of how it had brought me back to this place. And then we sat together at the beach viewing the pleasant sunset. Suddenly my child turned to me and asked me “Mom do you think there are more secrets and treasures hidden here waiting to be discovered?”
I smiled and said “I am sure that one day you will visit this Island again and will find something very precious,” and then I went up to my boat only with a promise, a promise to come back.
