Sentimental Value

 

"But this is just an old magazine!"

 

 

Waking up on a Monday morning at 5 sounds excruciatingly painful. No matter what the reason is behind committing such an abhorrent act! Waking up at 5 on a Monday morning to catch a flight at 9, that is a different story altogether!

 

This was the dreaded Monday of 10th of August, 2020. "Could have slept a little longer" was my first thought after clearing the security checks at the airport. The time was 7:30 am - to avoid any last-minute hiccups I had arrived ages early for the scheduled departure of my flight from Calcutta, my home forever, to Bangalore - the city I had been calling home for the last couple of years. And much like how relationships end on a final 'we need to talk', I was headed for one decisive rendezvous with Namma Bengaluru. And ultimate it was!

 

"We need to think about vacating the flat now" - that group call with my flatmates a fortnight ago was an uncomfortable experience. All three of us work in the same company, a data analytics firm, and we tried to keep emotions out of the discussion. We have been working from home for the past couple of months now. With the situation surrounding the COVID pandemic not showing any signs of improvement towards normalcy, each of us was trying to cut down on costs. And this conference call was to address the elephant in the room - the vacant house that we were still renting out in Bangalore.

 

It's a spacious 3 BHK, each of the rooms large enough to host a small gathering of its own, and the drawing hall is massive to the point that it can easily put premium dance floors to shame! The building complex sits tucked away in one of the dead-end streets on the limits of HSR Layout (this area is called HSR Extension), at the end of 27th Main Street. Most of the well-known destinations of HSR are a short walk away, yet there is minimal vehicular movement at night due to the dead end. The pain of losing out on such a prime location quickly gave way to qualms around the prudent decision-making required before vacating. Lists of items were made - things that needed to be packed, and either shipped back home or had to be stored temporarily somewhere in Bangalore itself. I particularly am guilty of being the biggest hoarder of the three!

 

It was 8 am now, an hour left for departure. Another time and I would have been devouring a book or going through some visual content on the laptop. Not today, I was travelling light sans all the creature comforts. The idea was to carry back as much as possible in-flight to reduce the luggage that had to be couriered. I was trying to recollect and make notes of all the things I possessed. In my mind, I could vividly picture the room I had left behind - a canvas deftly painted, which will now be washed off to be left blank again.

 

Since the teenage years, I had an outline of my dream room in mind- furnished with conveniences all at an arm's length away and sprinkled with a bit of lavishness. But above everything else - homeliness. Photographs of my travels on the walls, as well as class photo-frames in my line of sight, and soft-toys from childhood days - all serving as continuous reminders of the journey so far. A ton of clothes neatly tucked away inside wardrobes, and furniture mostly purchased at bargain rounded up the rest of my belongings. These were the major items that were on the top of my mind initially. But then I drifted away to the oblivious thought of the knick-knacks. The timid coin holder bought from a local fair which wowed me into the world of magic tricks, tags from college fests with hand-written notes on the back, or the copy of Readers Digest that belonged to my late grandfather. The one that I have read and reread more than a hundred times, and still smells fresh. Sometimes the price paid to own something pales in comparison to the investment made thereafter to make sure they survive. That copy of Reader's Digest, bought way back in 1963 for only Rs. 1.75, has been in the family for close to sixty years now - stored, transported and relished. The sum of all the additional charges incurred in just making sure that the heirloom stayed in the family outweighs the original price itself. But is it fair to judge the importance of our belongings by just their material worth? Isn't there more sentimental value to them?

 

The things we possess, the ones we carry around and hold dear - they grow with us! Even though they belong to the realm of non-living things and as such are devoid of life. A pen bought ten years ago is different now from what it was before. It has been used to ink together parts of our life, and as such has lived those portions itself! Every scratch a different story, every dent living on to tell a tale. In simple terms, there is much more character to it now. Materially its value may have deteriorated unless it is one of those rare artefacts that fetch a hefty amount at auctions. Sentimentally, the value has increased manifold. The longer something stays with us, the more it becomes a part of our identity. And the dearer it gets! This holds true for things, as it does for people! In the case of gifts and hand-me-downs, the dearness is also related to our connection with the donor. You cannot carry around people in your pockets, we all have lives to live! What you can do, however, is carry around their remembrances in the belongings received.

 

I reached the Bangalore apartment by 3 in the afternoon. By 7 pm, I was done with most of the packing related to all of the furniture and electronic appliances. The clothes were neatly tucked away in suitcases, bags, and rucksacks. And of course, all the paperwork I possessed - certificates and mark sheets testament of my credentials, were accounted for and kept in the backpack. I took a little breather in anticipation of what was to come, for there remained a ton of knick-knacks and I had no clue whatsoever where to begin! Over the last couple of years, there were so many things that I had accumulated! Continuing with the packing, I followed one simple rule - two bins, one containing everything that I had used in the last six months, and the other containing everything else. Then out of the bin containing the unused items, I further segregated all the items into two portions again - custom items remained inside, and off the shelf (read: Amazon, Flipkart, etc.) products had to make way. My rationale behind the whole process was to keep with me all those things which I have had used in the recent past, or the ones that were custom to my taste. While going through this process I rediscovered so many items and the bundle of memories attached to them - the piece of rock off a cliff from which I almost slipped down to the sea while holidaying in Gokarna, the train ticket of my first trip to Goa from college, match ticket to Sachin's 199th test match, and others. All of these items fell into a special category - collectables which were precious simply because of their sentimental value!

 

The entire trip was a nightmare of 48 hours - the exact amount of time I was allotted to get in and out of Bangalore without needing to home quarantine or present COVID negative certificate at the time of arrival into the city. The packers and movers were done with their part early in the morning on Tuesday, after which I went to keep my motorcycle along with the furniture at a friend's place and a carton full of delicate items at another's. On the drive back to the airport I was content I had ticked off all the items that I had earmarked for this mission of mine - and by now you know what was the most important item of them all! I am sure every person reading this post who has made it so far and can relate to it must be reflecting on a list of things of their own which have sentimental value. Things which have been part of the journey for a long time, through thick and thin, and have seen the many adventures of life. Or perhaps memorabilia of another time or reminders of people lost to it? Whatever it is that is close to your heart, the world will tell you at some point or the other to part ways. I am here to tell you, that you don’t have to!

 

In its simplest form, the basic principle of calculus differentiation is to break something down to its constituent elements. And that of integration is to build something up again from simpler components. Now, in theory, differentiating something and then integrating it again should give you the original back, right? But instead, you get C - a constant. That which was once a part of the whole, and now even though its presence is acknowledged, its identity has been lost to time. Things worth sentimental value belong to this pool of C, lost while breaking down life into simpler portions. No matter how trivial they appear to the outside world, they will always be dear to the keeper. Rather keep them with you, than go through sleepless nights of introspection!

 

The security check-up took substantially more time on the return journey. My cabin bag was full up to the brim and I was asked the reason for carrying so many things. I told the personnel that I was shifting back and hence was bearing all expensive and electronic items in the cabin luggage.

"But this is just an old magazine!", a perplexed security officer inquired while holding my treasure in his hand.

 

 I smiled at him.

 

There was no way I could have explained its worth in words.