The Big Brown Suitcase

Like most of the Bengali family heads, my father never had any sense of architecture. So when he built the house which we currently reside in, he took especial care to carve out storage spaces - access to which would be near impossible.

We moved into this house some 10 years back. Mom utilized all such storage spaces to tuck away the stuff that were deemed useless. Some of these spaces were located behind immovably huge beds (one that was gifted by my Grandpa during mom's wedding). Others were placed near to the ceiling, beyond human reach.

I visited my family last February. My mom, all of a sudden, happened to recall that a Brown Suitcase remained hidden in one of those dark inaccessible corners. So, she bestowed me with the responsibility of dragging the suitcase out of the mythical storage space.

After putting in some inhuman effort, I displaced the cot and pulled out the huge suitcase of my mother's interest. It was a VIP make suitcase, 48" in size, scarred with innumarable marks. This brown suitcase was used by family since 1987. It travelled across India from Ranchi to Nainaital to Bangalore, before finally retiring in suburbs of Calcutta. 10 years of prolonged neglect was evident from the repulsive amount of dust and cobwebs which covered it.

Mom spread an old newspaper over the bedsheet, on which I placed the suitcase. Both me and my mom were quite curious about the belongings this gigantic suitcase, that was packed, closed and shoved away a decade ago. My mom doesn't believe in building up suspense, so she opened up the case without much ado.

The suitcase was full of clothes. Sweaters. Shirts. Sarees. And ladies underwear. But you know what? None of these garments were mundane pieces of wearables. Each of these clothes were related to some member of our family in some special way.

First: There was this bundle of tiny sweaters. All of them were hand-woven. one had horizontal stripes of red and yellow wool. She told "This was yours." I was 5 years old( and 1/20th of my current volume) when I wore that sweater. I remembered it from a photo from my close friend Pupun's birthday party. Next to it was a similar sweater, which she recalled was woven for my elder brother. She picked it up, ran her hand through lovingly and placed it back in the suitcase, realizing that it would now fit her grandson (bro's son) who would never be allowed to wear an unbranded outfit.

Second: Beneath an old blanket, was found a white half-sleeved shirt with a pocket on the left side. The pocket was embroidered with a blue-colored emblem of a burning torch ('mashaal' in hindi). It was my school uniform. My most chreished attire, ever! Me - who is known to be a generally indifferent person among my friends - really felt a lump in my throat when I saw my old uniform. Sniff! Sniff!

Third and the most important: With great affection, mom picked out a red Saree. A Banarasi silk. This was the saree that marked the beginning of a 34 year relationship of a most-beautiful-girl-in-village with the most-uncool-man-ever-on-earth. Mom got married wearing this very Banarasi saree. Next she handpicked a white silk petticoat. She caressed it and utterred "This was the saya (Bengali for petticoat) which I wore during my marriage..". It was quite awkward to see my birthgiver get so nostalgic about the underwear she got married in. This was the first time, my mom discussed ladies' underwears with me. She commented on problems she had wearing the petticoat, compared to the underpants she wore during her childhood. The white silk blouse which she wore at her wedding also was resting here, a look at which made Mom confess "I can't believe how slim I used to be!". She meant size zero :).

Fourth: Just like my amazement with the saree mom got married wearing, Mom was all excited about another silk saree of purple hue. It was the one, wearing which her mom/my granny achieved marital bliss! And trust me, that Saree didn't lose much of it's shine even after 70 years of first being used! Wow!

Fifth: Mom discovered a sleeping bag of American make, gifted by her younger brother, who considered her to be his closest friend -before he got married. She sniffed that sleeping bag for a considerable time before putting it back in the suitcase.

After a nostalgic hour, mom realized that this suitcase doesn't carry any immediate value for the family. So, I was ordered to place it back where it was dragged out from. But, I sensed from the the very content smile on my mother's face, that this was indeed a planned move on her part. She wanted me to know of this storehouse of invaluable memories. She needed a guardian of the same for future. Good to know that I fit the bill.