A Move is a Move is a Move...
People in this country move at the drop of a hat. They put things in storage (a bigger business than Hollywood apparently) and go off to China or Upper Volta (no, I don't know if its now called something else and I am too lazy to look it up) or Arizona. With e-bills and online banking, you could be anywhere really.
I have never actually moved before, not an honest to goodness move. When I first moved out of my parents' home, fresh out of college, I went to b-school. It was probably less than 15 Kms from home, a bus ride away. I would even bring dirty clothes home over the weekends. It was just the best of both worlds where one could wear shorts and rubber chappals to class and eat koraier dal and posto chochchori for Sunday lunches at home. It definitely does not count as a move!
Then I made a move that seemed pretty big at the time - a whole different city, maybe even THE city - Bombay. The thing though is that one moved with a suitcase of clothes and lived in a pretty well-furnished apartment that the company provided. There was no question of owning furniture or god forbid, cooking utensils! When I moved out of there I had accumulated books and shoes but not much else.
The next move was across continents. This time I carried pressure cooker and tawa and khunti and Cotton World t-shirts. Over the next few years I moved just once more, locally in a rented u-haul. When I finally moved out of that little Midwestern town it was the people I missed and still do. The place is an afterthought. The apartments I left behind were familiar but not personal.
And now I make a move that is sudden and unexpected. I am no longer that footloose, I have a couch and a bed and a dining table to take with me. And enough books to surprise the movers. I have to talk to movers and get estimates. It all feels strange and very adult.
Stranger still is the fact that the apartment I will leave behind is one that feels like my own, my very own place and I will miss it. It was where I expected to be for a few years at least. I was planning to get a deck chair for the little balcony, so I could read there on the weekends. I should be relieved that I did not do so as that is one less thing to worry about, but I guess I hate that I never did get to sit and read on my balcony.
I have never actually moved before, not an honest to goodness move. When I first moved out of my parents' home, fresh out of college, I went to b-school. It was probably less than 15 Kms from home, a bus ride away. I would even bring dirty clothes home over the weekends. It was just the best of both worlds where one could wear shorts and rubber chappals to class and eat koraier dal and posto chochchori for Sunday lunches at home. It definitely does not count as a move!
Then I made a move that seemed pretty big at the time - a whole different city, maybe even THE city - Bombay. The thing though is that one moved with a suitcase of clothes and lived in a pretty well-furnished apartment that the company provided. There was no question of owning furniture or god forbid, cooking utensils! When I moved out of there I had accumulated books and shoes but not much else.
The next move was across continents. This time I carried pressure cooker and tawa and khunti and Cotton World t-shirts. Over the next few years I moved just once more, locally in a rented u-haul. When I finally moved out of that little Midwestern town it was the people I missed and still do. The place is an afterthought. The apartments I left behind were familiar but not personal.
And now I make a move that is sudden and unexpected. I am no longer that footloose, I have a couch and a bed and a dining table to take with me. And enough books to surprise the movers. I have to talk to movers and get estimates. It all feels strange and very adult.
Stranger still is the fact that the apartment I will leave behind is one that feels like my own, my very own place and I will miss it. It was where I expected to be for a few years at least. I was planning to get a deck chair for the little balcony, so I could read there on the weekends. I should be relieved that I did not do so as that is one less thing to worry about, but I guess I hate that I never did get to sit and read on my balcony.
7 Comments:
When I finally moved out of that little Midwestern town it was the people I missed and still do. The place is an afterthought.
How sweet of you to say that. We miss you too. (Big hug).
Awwww thanku thanku - have you been reading about Amma in Sepia Mutiny??
happy moving...you could've asked me for some useful tips..me the "mistress of moving"... always 1000s of miles!! Shala Kolkata-Bangalore and vice versa korte korte henjiye gelum!
And please feel lucky it's just a bed, a couch, a dinner table and cartloads of books...not freaky things like a bat presented by Saurav Ganguly that takes precedence over all else, or some silly newspapers where your name's been mentioned, and a 1000 little gifts, each more sentimental than the other, for Gubs...not to mention the dynamite herself!!
Move on...dear friend...move on!!
Oh WOW. The apocalipstick comment was brilliant. I loved it. Have your read the Invisibles, by the way?
Ani: Haha, nah! I just read the right things at the right time, thats all (meaning the back of V for Vendetta for one).
Priya: You know I wish you were here, dont make me get all senti girl!
hey!!! everything cool, except for these jackasses who've assaulted my blog. and sure you can call me vishy ;)
And the little apartment will miss you too, sniff, sniff.
Had such a great time in Chinatown yesterday, and sad that there's so much fun stuff that hasn't been done yet. Which means, you have to visit frequently from the Bay area and crash on my couch.
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