H oli, the festival of colours, time of joyous celebrations, vibrant hues, and cherished memories. As the day arrived, I found myself standing in front of the wardrobe, looking at the forgotten corner and thinking about what to wear for the day’s activities. During the search, I could feel the magic in revisiting the old days associated with the dresses. I could smell the faint scent of memories that lingered within the folds. These dresses were silent spectators to the laughter, friendships, trials and pure spirits of the good old days. Each dress had witnessed moments of joy, sorrow, victory, and loss. The moment I slipped into its familiar embrace, I felt nostalgic, carrying me back to simpler times. The clothes whispered secrets of the long past, laughter shared with the dear ones, wipes of inconsolable tears and lot more. The old outfits became a medium of tangible link to memories through which I relived moments of absolute bliss and bitter-sweet desires, taking o...