Cleaning Up, Making Space and Letting Go

This Sunday, pushed by a burst of guilt-driven energy, I threw open a couple of cupboards in my house and embarked on a long overdue clean-up session. I had reached a stage where I had to confront reality. I had to make space, however mind-boggling that sounded, to accommodate all things that have gained high importance in the lives of my fast-growing, school-going children.

As kids grow up, it’s a one-of-a-kind experience to realign one’s home to accept and accommodate their “things”. It begins with clothes, toys and baby cots upon their arrival and as they grow older, it’s time to make space for study tables, books and school stuff. Our home is precisely at this point now. We have a burgeoning pile of books from Nursery Rhymes to Know your “ABCs, Numbers, Fruits, Vegetables, Animals, Vehicles” books to Mythology to Mystery to Classics to Workbooks catering to the reading interests and requirements of a three-year-old and an eight-year-old. Add to this pile, boxes of crayons, colour pencils, pencils & erasers, paints, craft material, charts and every imaginable piece of kids’ stationery. Plus of course, school textbooks and notebooks. Pretty choked, in a nutshell.

Well, yes, I admit to having procrastinated this ritual of tidying up for quite a while. Call it laziness or indifference or whatever, I just about managed to squeeze my kids’ books and related stuff here and there for a couple of years. But ever since their vacation began in April, I have been swallowing the guilt crawling up my throat, every time my eyes fell upon their books and stationery. Those poor things appeared like they were really struggling for breath, jostling for space as they stuck their heads out in utter discomfort, from various places, just like humans crammed together miserably without much choice inside a crowded Bombay local.

Guilt plus the need for immediate action eventually pushed me to sit down in front of the cupboards in our study room. I began digging deep into the shelves, after having steeled myself for the tidying up business that, simply put, terrified me. Quite a few things that we had been hoarding inside our cupboards for years had to go. That was it.

When I dug out one of the lower shelves, I pulled out a whole variety of material, mostly paper-based – some that I remembered well (Oh, this, right!), some vaguely (Hmm…yeah) and some not at all (Now, what’s this?). All of them carefully preserved in folders and fancy-looking plastic covers, nonetheless, and everything belonging to me.

Out came bits and pieces of my life, from a decade or more ago, standing as proof to the person I was – from a different time living under circumstances that I am no longer a part of. I ran into project reports from my Engineering days that made me wonder about what all I had pursued and tried to shine at as a 20-year-old, without any idea about the turn my life would take a few years later. There were test papers and assignments from when I was a student pursuing a course in Journalism, including a small write-up on why I wanted to be a journalist. Then there was this resume of mine, a writer ambitiously seeking “challenging work opportunities”. I also found a colourful notebook full of notes from some press conferences that I had attended, flaunting my ID card and business cards with the pride only brand new journos can sport. This notebook also had many questions I had written down to ask people in order to write feature stories.

So there I was sitting and humming a song that reminded me of times long gone as I sifted through copies of The Hindu Literary Review that my father had carefully preserved and handed over to me. I also chanced upon copies of my wedding invitation, printouts of Personal Finance features that I had written and a big bundle of greeting cards I had received from friends and relatives right from when I turned 13. Another prized discovery was a small receipt that was tucked away in a corner and brought a smile to my face. Do you remember this, I asked, showing it to my husband. The receipt is an important piece of our personal histories. It marked the beginning of our life-long association. It was of our first-ever outing, a visit to a popular bookstore. I realised how much I had accumulated things (and still do!) for the sake of preserving memories.

I carefully put the receipt back inside. The sorting exercise was eventually about answering two questions – Which of these things do I wish to hold on to? Which ones should I let go? Cleaning up is a tough act because it’s hard to stay detached when you go through the process. There were some easy decisions and some truly tough ones. As my children ran about me, I sorted my belongings, my memories. In the end, the mission was accomplished. I cleared up space and let newer experiences and the present dwell alongside treasured memories. But what stayed on, long after the job was done, was this suspended feeling which leaves you wondering if the current moment is real. Thankfully, routine stepped in to heal, pushing one to get on with life. But only till the next clean-up act I suspect, whenever that would be.

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