The Palace Within My Dreams: My Crazy Circus

I designed my room for the first time when I was 16 years old. We had just moved into a new house, and my room was a blank slate. I was bringing my previous furniture with me, but I had never before painted the walls, had cohesive bedding, or a color scheme in my previous room. From a young age I had always pictured that whenever I would design my room the finished product would be a peaceful oasis of lavender and cream. However, on a whim I decided to embrace what I saw as my last opportunity to forgo the mature and muted room I could always decorate in a future home and instead go for the childhood room I had never designed. I'm so glad I decided to go with my crazy circus. Whenever I'm home during breaks, my room reminds me of a breath of fun in a world where creativity is often stifled in the rush to leave adolescence behind.

The room is fifteen by twelve feet. It has one bay window and one closet. The basic statistics denote a typical bedroom, but beyond the spartan details, it is a vivid and tangible representation of the person who lives there. The bed is impeccably made, and beyond carefully arranged knick knacks nothing obscures the surfaces.

The room glows as if a sun is bursting, the rays ricocheting from the orange marmalade walls to the pink and green striped curtains to the haphazard lemon swirled bean bag chair. Dozens of pictures of friends and family are in a prearranged state of chaos on the brightly flowered memo board. The collectibles crowd the shelf: elephants and stone boxes from India and snow globes of the Disney princesses.

My room is a representation of me. I am organized, logical and intellectual. But this description only scratches the surface. I am creative, passionate and Indian. It would be a huge oversight to only be exposed to the statistics; the details are what have made me who I am today.