Living in the no-gift zone

‘Thank you, very thoughtful of you!’ I said. “But I am sorry; I cannot accept this gift.” She looked crestfallen. “You don’t like the colour? We can exchange it for your preference. I have preserved the bill.” I patted her head and said a firm no. It wasn’t the colour or the material, but my personal oath not to take anything home, except groceries, milk, vegetables and the like, I assured her.

The occasion was a wedding, where close family members are given saris or dresses as return gifts. Most Indian families practise give-and-take,
making it an important ritual at
functions. Inevitably, it leads to a
pile-up in one’s wardrobe, adding to already cluttered spaces.

For the past eight years, I have practised and perfected the art of saying “no” to gifts of any kind. I have also completely stopped buying stuff. Yes, you read it right! Every object adds to our physical and mental space. Each becomes a responsibility and an attachment. As we grow older, we need neither. A minimalistic lifestyle suits ageing, much like less make-up does.

When my mother passed away, clearing her wardrobe, filled with exclusive and expensive saris, was an immensely painful experience. I gritted my teeth and kept a couple in her memory. The rest I donated to our house helps and her nurse, and I gave away the remaining lot to a charitable organisation near my house. It was not an easy decision, but it brought a sense of relief.

“But why? You are still young; you wear saris regularly!” my friends told me. “I already have a big wardrobe of saris. Tell me, how many can I wear? And most importantly, what happens to them after me?” A valid question, isn’t it? There is no limit to our desires and no limit to how much we can hoard.

The same dilemma arose when my daughter-in-law received a bunch of saris as wedding presents. “I can’t carry all this to the US. You can use whichever you like. Let me leave them in your wardrobe,” she said. My mind wavered – such beautiful saris! As my fingers stroked the material, my resolve hardened. “No. Please give them to your mother. Let her safeguard them or use them.”

A friend once brought a pre-loved kurta to a meet. “Can I give you this? I haven’t used it much, and I thought it might suit you. ”Sure,” I said, adding quickly, “But no more gifts, okay? I don’t want to accumulate even pre-loved dresses. It defeats the purpose of not buying new ones.”