Farewell to the familiar

I recently had to vacate my room and relocate to another one temporarily to facilitate the repainting of my room. Over time, I had accumulated several things that were no longer in use. I was advised that it was time to discard everything that had gone out of fashion and make way for the new. As I began the exercise, I found many old suitcases difficult to open, having remained unopened for years. They were no longer available in the market, as people had switched to using suitcases with wheels that could be easily pulled along at railway stations and airports.

One box contained old albums and loose black-and-white photographs. Most of the individuals in those photographs had left for the other shore. They were dressed in attire whose styles had long since gone out of fashion. When I insisted on preserving the photographs for old times' sake, my son relented, suggesting we keep them all in one suitcase.

I also had an old typewriter, which had been used to type many of my articles. It was a product of a renowned company, predating the advent of modern laptops and desktops with their numerous facilities. Although I knew it would never be used again, I had preserved it nonetheless. However, my son suggested we sell it to the 'raddiwala', effectively sealing its fate as scrap to be sold by weight.

Another prized 'antique' I possessed was a Click III black-and-white camera, which used rolls of film to take photographs. Each roll could capture ten photographs, and the studio would process the film in dark rooms using chemicals, eventually producing prints that would be pasted into an album. My son discarded the camera, adding it to the growing heap.

A couple of large suitcases contained old clothes whose fashion had become extinct years ago. As they were only suitable for use as rags for wiping the floor and drying utensils, they too were added to the heap. My wife's damaged silk sarees and blouses were also promptly discarded. An old radio, tape recorder, record player, and several records of movies and family functions that had been ignored for years all found their place on top of the heap. Another box contained fountain pens.

Outside the house, in a corner, we had discarded our old mortar and pestle, used for making batter for idlis and dosas, and a flat grinding stone with its pestle, which had ground wet spices for numerous delectable dishes. These items had long since been replaced with mechanised grinders, mixers, ovens with timers, gas stoves, water purifiers, and many other modern appliances.

Once all the old items had been removed from my room, it seemed spacious, and the room appeared larger. However, I couldn't help but feel nostalgic about the items that would soon be carted away by the 'raddiwala', leaving a void in the life I had known.