To throw or not to throw...

I’ve never been a fan of packing. I’ll avoid it as far as possible and put it off till the last minute. Earlier, when we went on our annual summer vacations to our native place, mom used to take care of the packing. Clothes used to be neatly piled on the bed first, then packed, according to ‘how soon will we need them’ and ‘how often will we need them’. The packing used to go on till late at night, because, by principle, none of us travel light, except dad. Mom always carried extra clothes, in case it rained, even in summer. I won’t laugh at that, coz even I’ve inherited that streak. I always end up packing for 5 days on a two-day trip. Mom never used to let us touch the bag and used to personally take out whatever we needed and give us, because if we go through it, there’s just a jumble remaining. I hate folding clothes. I tend to roll them up in a ball or something resembling folds and push it into my bag. And then I rummage through the pile, much like those goons who ransack people in movies. No kidding. And my sister’s no less. Fortunately for her, she married a guy who loves packing.

Anyways, in case you’re wondering what brought out this onslaught of packing memories, let me elaborate. I recently shifted my house to another one in the city, with a roommate. I had been living alone for more than a year, first in a 2bhk, then in a 1bhk. One major thing you need to keep in mind if you’re thinking of taking a house is:- you will accumulate a helluva lot of stuff, especially if you’re a hoarder like me. I cannot throw stuff away, another thing I’ve inherited from mom. It’s the most difficult thing in the world for me. I may not have sentiments attached to it necessarily, but I will always think of some possible future use of it when I consider throwing it away. And there it goes back to where it was hibernating since 1922. Back when I was a kid, I once remember fighting with dad coz he wanted to throw away one of my old, ragged, beyond-its-expiry-date doll with no hair and one hand missing, during one of his spring-cleaning sessions. I won.

One of my friends was helping me out with my packing this time. The name I earned at the end of it- aakri (which roughly translates into scrap/scrap-collector ). And rightly so, I have to grudgingly accept. By the end of the packing, I had five huge cartons, two suitcases, two bags, plus a lot of plastic packets filled with odds and ends. All this for just one person! What will I do once I start my own family! I’ll have to order an entire train to carry my stuff! And this too, after I’d given off a bunch of old clothes away. I had to arrange for a tempo to move my stuff.

Now the next huge task awaits me. Unpacking the stuff and putting it away in their rightful places. And now I’m back in a 2bhk. More space. More opportunities to accumulate.

I sincerely hope my roommate likes to throw things away...