My Dad's Suitcases.

While loafing around in my granny’s home yesterday, I found these suitcases lying on the outside baithak (kind of backyard patio). I don’t know why but it kind of got to me. I got emotional - not in a sad way but in a very thoughtful way.

These were my dad’s. He travelled frequently for work and mostly by air or by road for any 10-15 hours journey hiring a driver for his car. He was a very organized and minimalist travel packer. His wardrobe was filled with white half sleeve shirts, and black or gray formal pants.

He would always travel with these 2 hard suitcases - the lower one carried his clothes. He would carry 2 ironed shirts, 1 formal pant, 1 lungi (just like pajamas, something all South Indian dads wear proudly), 1 towel, 1 handkerchief, his shaving kit and toiletries. The other bag (the top small one) was his office bag - carrying all the files, documents and other paperwork. VIP was his most trusted and favourite brand when it came to bags. As was Bata for shoes, Bombay Dyeing for bedsheets, Raymond for his clothes, Gillette shaving razors, Cherry shoe polish - okay now I am flooded with all the things he used.

Anyway, back to the topic, these were his trademark materials that defined his personality. When I saw these suitcases, his figure came floating in front of me. Neatly pressed white half sleeve shirt tucked in a formal pant, a brown belt, a deep brown leather shoes polished to shine, formal socks, hair & moustache neatly combed, a Titan watch on his left hand and a million dollar smile. That’s how he dressed up. And that was how he would walk out of home every single time.

And today they lay there unused, uncared, unattended, rusted. In that one second they reminded me that my dad was no longer with us. I miss him every day no doubt, it’s been over 6 years and yet it feels like just yesterday when I think of him, but this scene hit me hard, because they depicted forgotten memories. Don't get me wrong, we think and talk of him daily, and he is no where close to being forgotten as I write this.

But when no new memories of a person are formed, the ones that are in our brains, they kind of start getting rusty with every passing year, and may be one day they get forgotten. Well, we might convince ourselves that this does not apply to loved ones, but I guess eventually it does. Maybe that's how life is and this world is, I don't know, I am just thinking out loud. Not that they get forgotten, but just that their memories get pushed aside to corners of our brains and they sit there waiting for us to clear the dust and rust off.

Just slowly fading away,. We wish we are remembered till eternity, but that's not the case and I guess that's the hard reality people tend to ignore. We will exist in the hearts of the closest, if not as active ingredient, as a passive stimulant, we will continue to impact their lives; like these rusted suitcases, sitting in some unseen corner of the home.

I did not move those suitcases. I left them there as is. I did not want these rusted suitcases to overshadow fresh memories of my dad. My memories of him are more current than all these materialistic stuffs. I think that’s why the wise say, don’t dwell much on materialistic things, it’s the non tangible elements of you that outlives physical you.

I don’t know if I will see these suitcases again, but they made me realize something very simple this time. So, cheers to my dad's suitcases.

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