When Storing Junk is a Passion

In our home, maintaining a minimalist aesthetic is a priority. However, my partner, daughter and mother have unique obsessions with collecting things, creating occasional battles. Here’s an exclusive by Ruchira for Different Truths.

When it comes to the maintenance of home interiors, I adopt a minimalistic approach. Well-coordinated furniture and fixtures, adequate space, and legroom between 

chairs, tables, stools, cabinets, and sideboards; no clumsy stuffed objects to be present in the living room or bedrooms either. Regarding non-furniture movable stuff, I wouldn’t say I like old newspapers piling up on the lower shelf of the centre table. Every few months, I nudge, coax, and cajole the partner to ring for the kabadiwala / junk agent to get rid of them. Nine times out of ten, he keeps deferring the sale till the “next week.”

My partner has a distinct penchant for plastic bags (panni). Be it snacks/savouries, fruits, vegetables, laundry or medicines, each unit, big, small, square, thick, thin, coloured or transparent, invariably finds its way into a cavernous shelf in his closet. Often tugs-of-war ensue at home with me trying to dump these bags into the garbage bin with him snatching them and walking away smugly. The only ones to escape his clutch are the ones used to bringing home fish and meat. These are discarded forthwith.

Even worse, my partner has a stronger fetish for elastic rubber bands (girders). Myriads of these bands in motley hues and sizes enter every home (ours, too) in innumerable ways. The moment he spots one, trust him to swoop it down, pick it up and land it into a dish already containing more similar specimens. I confess that I often remove handfuls of pilling-up rubber bands on the sly, only to dispose of them along with the garbage. Thankfully, my spouse has no inkling of my surreptitious activities. 

Our daughter is a chip off the old block, diligently following in the footsteps of her Papa. Her junk trove contains torn books of nursery rhymes, half-broken used crayons, a toy rabbit with one ear, a dog with one eye missing, dried flowers and foliage, wooden ice cream spoons, half-empty bottles of hair oil, crèmes, and lotions. Touch these at your peril!

I guess the young lady’s fondness for amassing junk has yet another genetic or hereditary connection. My late mother, too, had been an avid junk collector. Since we would move from one city/town to another, she would have plenty of empty cardboard/ boxes, cartons made from corrugated sheets, wooden packing boxes etc., at her disposal. However, she would put them to good use at various times – for instance, tucking in pieces of cardboard, folded or twisted underneath wobbly cupboards or racks to prevent them from toppling, and plugging broken (glass) windowpanes until repairs were done.

Wooden pieces were props for creepers growing in pots or in the garden. Over the years, she gathered and saved up pieces of fabric and cut off portions from her frayed homely saris. Eventually, sewn together, they became highly useful kanthas (ethnic homemade sheets, wraps) for my newborn. She also had blobs of wool of countless shades and textures in her arsenal. Often, she knitted and converted them into casual warmers best worn at home. Mother had other quaint items in her kitty. For example, she wouldn’t part with her set of (now near obsolete) dala-kulow (winnowing trays). Everywhere that we went, these were sure to go. It was only when they got worn out and dust-laden that she discarded them.

Sounds crazy, but mom faithfully retained a special shil-nowra (stones for wet grinding of spices) for my widowed grandma (dad’s ma), who would visit us at her convenience. This was special because her diet excluded onion and garlic, while the set used for regular cooking welcomed these ingredients. Grannie grew infirm and stopped visiting us, but the shil-nowra stayed put. Only after the dear old lady had departed this world were these discarded!

Picture design by Anumita Roy