Mother had asked me to sort out and
throw away some old items from a showcase almirah. I hardened myself and
started throwing away whichever items I could, in a big dustbin kept for that
purpose. Whichever item felt useless and not collectible for the memory’s sake
I just threw it away. After a while, I came across a pair of gloves which
belonged to my father. I had some childhood memories associated with it too. It
was meant for winter and was made of black leather of good quality, and it had
white beautiful furs inside it. Father used to wear it while going to his bank
on a motorcycle during the winter months. In childhood, we siblings used to
play with it sometimes and were very much fascinated with it. But what was its
use now? Hence, I threw it away.
As soon as I threw it away, father
came there from some other room and saw it being thrown away. He said, “ye mera
hai..” (this is mine). I asked, “par ab iska kya karna hai?” (but what to do
with it now?”. Father was a bit taken aback and said, “no, I am not asking to
keep it. I just said this is mine.” I remember feeling it a bit, but I was
convinced that the old pair of gloves had to be sacrificed. It had no practical
utility and there was no need to preserve it till eternity. The matter was
forgotten.
I forgot about this incident, until
one day while opening one of my almirahs which I do not open often, I came
across a pair of my own old gloves.
That pair of gloves was also kept by
me for sentimental value. It was a “safety glove” from my first job after
engineering. After passing out of my engineering college, I had immediately
joined my first job and was posted in a manufacturing plant. It was a new world
for me. Whenever I went to visit a site in the plant, I used to wear safety
gloves, safety googles and a safety helmet. I remember when I switched my job
after two years and I had to leave, on the final day when I returned from
plant, I did not know what to do with the gloves. I had left the helmet
somewhere, but gloves were not supposed to be used by others and hence I just
kept it along with my luggage and departed. That was my first job-switch and
that was also the last time I stood on the soil of Chhattisgarh. Sometimes I
remember those days fondly now.
As a memento from my first job, I
kept those gloves with me somewhere, even when I changed cities and places, and
years passed by. But what now?
As soon as I saw my old gloves, I
remembered my father’s gloves which I had just thrown away. I felt a sense of
guilt which would not go away. My pair of old gloves also did not have any
practical value. How could I throw away my father’s gloves but keep mine? I
could not have two sets of principles: one for myself and other for my father.
Still, the attachment was deep, and I did not really want to throw it away. I
had kept it safely for so many years! I knew that the gloves, which were in
good shape, also contained some dust particles from the manufacturing plant. It
was a time machine which could make me remember those two years of my life.
I spent a few weeks in dilemma, while
knowing from the inside that I had to give it away. In order to do justice with
my conscience, either I had to get my father’s gloves back, which was
impossible since it went out with the trash few weeks ago, or else I had to
throw away my own gloves.
Finally, after a few weeks from the
day I mercilessly threw away my father’s old lovely gloves, I threw away my own
memories-filled gloves too. May be in a few years, this blog post will be the
only place both these gloves will find their remembrance.
- Rahul Tiwary
