Was watching a movie last week based on how people are defined by the objects they accumulate over a period of time, the objects they keep close to them throughout life, for their meaning! Sometimes it can have emotional value sometimes it can have monetary value.

Is it a queer thought that when someone passes away and people dealing with the object declutter might not be able to understand the value of the objects hold once when the owner was alive. Or sometimes the handlers get entangled with the emotional value that it gets harder to let go of the things rather than the person who is already gone.

I don’t know if such thoughts pass your mind too or is it me? It’s a solemn feeling but yes have you ever wondered when you will leave how would you be defined when you won’t be around and people who are close to you will be going through your things. I think about that very often as I experienced death very closely a few years back and I think about it every day.

Am not sure if I will be defined by an old cracked mug I still hold on to and drink milk in that, the prayer mat I pray on hasn’t changed in last 15 years or the same blanket that keeps me warm every night that has traveled with me over years. The old “Surma Dani” that doesn’t have any more “Surma” in it but I have been watching it as I grew up and was fascinating every time I will see it at my mother’s dressing table. The first “Swatch” watch I earned for myself that doesn’t work now or the collection of branded watches that I have spent money on over years. The anklet I wear all summer long that I have lost twice and found again and consider myself lucky or the dove I wear 24/7 in a chain, or the sapphire ring that’s been on my index finger. The magnets I have gotten all over the world, most of them from friends who remembered me once! Or will the pebbles collected from mountains and different beaches will tell my story, as someone will go through it.

The perfume that I bought on repeat cuz it had my memories associated with it and is redolent of the times I cherished or the Ruby woo that’s always in my bag and I use it as a heck when I have to be somewhere quickly in no time! My metallic head pin to make a hair in a bun that is now half of my age. The huge collection of glass bangles of every color that I didn’t wear because of the fear what if they break. The books that I read and re-read, highlighted the words that I loved, the lines that meant, the pages half folded. The folder showing my lifetime achievements on paper held as a sacred one. Or the failures that I had in my head that helped me be a stronger person.

Scribbled notes of handwritings I hold on to from gone times and lost friends. Or the conversations that I poured my heart into while I was talking. The gazillion albums I have made in Dropbox and hard ones in the trunk trying to keep all the memories locked in time. The paintings that I painted whose color may have faded or the blogs I would have scribbled half posted but half unposted. Pinterest boards that I made with things on the Wishlist! Or the posts that I inboxed you on FB to share a  moment of laughter. The songs in my playlists on auto-repeat or the YouTube algorithm that knew my mood more than me.

I wonder what they would hold in their hands would ever be the same that I hold in my heart over all those years?


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