Am moving house today. Chaos and madness reign supreme. Tempers are frayed. Everyone has an eye on the movers and packers to make sure that their pet item gets transported without any damage. My camera, my photo albums, my wine glasses, my CDs, my watches…
And then I discover an old shoe box with memories - brought from all previous trips. A pass to enter the beautiful udaipur palace, a birthday card from a crush at school, a pine tree corn from a trip up north, my sister’s coin and pebble collection, a brochure from a Jagjit Singh concert… I am surrounded by all the things that my family has collected over the years. They all represent something held dearly to each one of them. My mom is retired but she retains all her pay slips, my fathers and his files of old tel and electricity bills, his children's’ old report cards (though none of us want to see them again), papers of the first house he brought 30 years ago, a dry fruits dabba that his office gifted on a new year some generations ago…
Am reminded of a trite saying – a house is built of walls and a home is built of hearts. Corny but seems so true…
We are only moving house but are carrying our home with us. Wherever we may go…
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