<p>The other day a friend told me that her aged parents were relocating and downsizing. The onus of clearing all their belongings fell squarely on her shoulders. Since she had an already established household, she did not need too many things. She decided to take a couple of months to sort out the issue methodically.</p>.<p>She gave away the consumables first and then sorted out the paper work. Then the furniture and other paraphernalia earned their way out. She had been very practical in the way she dispensed with most of the stuff. Yet she was saddled with so many knick-knacks, precious and laden with nostalgia or aesthetics. She simply did not have the heart to dump them.</p>.<p>It was around that time that she wrote to me saying that most of her time was spent on figuring out a home for the nuggets. The luxury of having more was bothering her. </p>.<p>Her words were thought provoking. I realised that anybody could be in those pair of shoes at any point in life. We could be holding on to something that may appear very insignificant to the onlooker but only we know its history and can perceive the emotional bonding oozing for it from our very being. All the same we know that we have to let go of it or leave it behind in the end. It could be trashed or treasured.</p>.<p>The middle path could probably mean identifying people who will eagerly become proud owners of the much appreciated possessions. I recollected an experience. My mother had painstakingly embroidered twelve intricate floral patterns in different hues on a snow-white long skirt of mine when I was around 12. Since she had tacked up the extra length, I used it through my teens. The fabric and embroidery looked as good as new because it was maintained with great care. Therefore, this piece of garment remained with us because of its sheer beauty and appeal despite losing its utility.</p>.<p>Two decades later, when it was retrieved from the cupboard for the umpteenth time, my mother gave it one long look and decided to give it away. However, there were no takers because wearing long skirts had gone out of fashion. Then I took the matter to hands. I carefully cut out the works of craft one by one and sewed them on to a fresh cloth. I got them mounted as wall frames and we displayed them on a rota system at home from time to time. Then we gave away some of them to dear ones who either respected the crafts (wo)man or her art. This exercise triggered many more instances of salvaging our cherished treasures from being trashed!</p>
<p>The other day a friend told me that her aged parents were relocating and downsizing. The onus of clearing all their belongings fell squarely on her shoulders. Since she had an already established household, she did not need too many things. She decided to take a couple of months to sort out the issue methodically.</p>.<p>She gave away the consumables first and then sorted out the paper work. Then the furniture and other paraphernalia earned their way out. She had been very practical in the way she dispensed with most of the stuff. Yet she was saddled with so many knick-knacks, precious and laden with nostalgia or aesthetics. She simply did not have the heart to dump them.</p>.<p>It was around that time that she wrote to me saying that most of her time was spent on figuring out a home for the nuggets. The luxury of having more was bothering her. </p>.<p>Her words were thought provoking. I realised that anybody could be in those pair of shoes at any point in life. We could be holding on to something that may appear very insignificant to the onlooker but only we know its history and can perceive the emotional bonding oozing for it from our very being. All the same we know that we have to let go of it or leave it behind in the end. It could be trashed or treasured.</p>.<p>The middle path could probably mean identifying people who will eagerly become proud owners of the much appreciated possessions. I recollected an experience. My mother had painstakingly embroidered twelve intricate floral patterns in different hues on a snow-white long skirt of mine when I was around 12. Since she had tacked up the extra length, I used it through my teens. The fabric and embroidery looked as good as new because it was maintained with great care. Therefore, this piece of garment remained with us because of its sheer beauty and appeal despite losing its utility.</p>.<p>Two decades later, when it was retrieved from the cupboard for the umpteenth time, my mother gave it one long look and decided to give it away. However, there were no takers because wearing long skirts had gone out of fashion. Then I took the matter to hands. I carefully cut out the works of craft one by one and sewed them on to a fresh cloth. I got them mounted as wall frames and we displayed them on a rota system at home from time to time. Then we gave away some of them to dear ones who either respected the crafts (wo)man or her art. This exercise triggered many more instances of salvaging our cherished treasures from being trashed!</p>