Stuff II

It’s always amazing to me how after when someone is gone, their essence stays in their stuff. Their things tell you about who they were, how they lived. I didn’t need my mothers things to tell me about how she lived. I already knew. As long as I remember, she had one Godrej almirah for her things. There was no walk-in closet or wooden cabinets. When I was younger she had a wooden cabinet made for me. But she and Baba always used their individual Godrej almirahs. Everyone that grew up in India knows these beasts. They are clanky, loud as hell and eventually rusty crits. There is never ever sneaking something out of a Godrej. No, the neighborhood will know you’re getting dressed for school. The one my mom had was particularly clanky. On top she kept her monies in a tin box. So there. I could never steal the money even if I wanted to. She was a light sleeper and like I’ve said before she was always there. 

The day after the cremation I went to Sea Breeze. My mothers younger sister, Chotu Mashi was staying there. I was going to go through ma’s things. And no better time than now since Mashi was there for company. 

I don’t know why but I started with the bathroom first. Half-used shampoos and soaps. I detested her shampoos. The last time I was in Mumbai, I went to the salon to get my hair washed off her cheap shampoos. They made my hair dry. I tossed them. But I hesitated with her creams and lotions. She did love those. I packed them in a large blue plastic bag that I would take to didi’s house. I ended up tossing too much too quickly because poor chotu Mashi had to use hand soap to shower eventually. 

I moved to her closet. It smelled of mothballs. I am highly allergic to them. So while I expected to be in tears I was indeed in tears of allergic reaction. I looked through her saris and I didn’t know where to start. They were neatly arranged, crisp, pressed and ready for her to wear at any moment. 

Then there were the cosmetics. Her powders, face creams, lipsticks. She used very little makeup when she was young. Now even less. I lingered over the face creams. She had a night ritual of applying face cream before bedtime. I imagined her sitting on the edge of the bed doing that. She had unfinished packs of bindis and hair clips. Those I took for myself. I have the bindis in my purse pocket and the hair clips I wear. One never knows when one is in dire need of a bindi in Texas. 

In her clanky Godrej she kept all her clothes. The middle shelf had her nice saris. For weddings, parties and such. Below that she kept her evening wear saris - the printed silks, the faded fancy saris that could still be worn for an evening of adda. The undergarments in the pockets on the left door. The third shelf had her ordinary saris. That she would wear at home in the evenings. Lots of soft cottons. When I was younger, she almost always wore saris. Only changed into the soft cotton nighties for bed. But lately she had adopted salwars more often. So this shelf also had her salwars. These we ended up donating but they were the hardest to deal with because she had used them the most. There’s something about mayer shadi. 

Below that was a drawer full of bags. Oh her obsession with bags! She could never have enough. I found old bags I had given her from years ago during my first few visits from the US. More recently acquired bags. Some with her petty cash. Some ugly, and promptly handed to the maid. Some with the costume jewelry she took to wearing recently. She had all but given up her goldwear. In that I found this heart shaped garnet locket I remember her wearing on a long gold chain when I must have been about 10. I loved it then and I didn’t even remember it till I saw it. I also wear this around now almost exclusively. The only people who appreciate it are ironically little girls.