Boxful of Memories

 Guess what, in the middle of all the chaos at home with trunks open and things littered all over the place, in the process of one final packing of the household for the move back home, I decide to go for a round of Golf. I obviously deserve a medal for gallantry, with the  Lady of the House staring at me from the corner of her eye, as I set about preparing my Golf set for the round of golf beckoning next morning. Normally I would seek refuge under temporary insanity due to the extreme stress in office or some other lame excuse such as 'this event is for a friend for nostalgic reasons' as he is off for a long while. But this was different I was now a happily retired person with no encumbrances of any kind, so with utter disregard to my personal safety or dignity I chose the path of dare devilry and bashed on regardless, foolishly rushing in where angels fear to tread. It was our regular four-ball who wanted to bid me farewell on the Golf course where else!

Normally during the times when we are packing, I am quite busy winding up the affairs in the office, that is what my better half has come to believe in all these years, though actually we have precious little to do during handing over barring signing on the dotted line, it is the taking over where one is busy. Now with no more moves  on the horizon, I can safely let the cat out of the bag. But then there are times when it is inescapable,  then I just open the box full of files and books, in the guise of sorting them out and bury myself in all those precious little notes that I had prepared during my Cadet/YO/JC/Staff College days, admire them and again keep them nicely tucked in, to be opened again in exactly the same circumstances two three years later, for yet another move. We all know that the notes have long outlived their utility but I can't get over this simple attachment, imagine the Hindus and Jains talk about "Aparigrah" which literally means 'non possession'. On the contrary we are possessed to be over possessive of everything, at times even of things which were not even ours to start with. 

I bet faujis in general can spend hours poring over their old files with some very nostalgic correspondence related to being nominated for a nondescript course or cadre where some course-mates also landed up and they had a whale of a time together. Any activity of the unit is sacred and stays that way, nobody dare touch it. All the salary slips and Part II orders are preserved, God knows when the Mighty Principal Controller of Defence Accounts take umbrage and deny you your rightful compensation.Mementos, Photograph albums, DVDs full of photos, Degrees, course reports, Course photographs dug out trying to recognise some long forgotten faces, those letters of commendation or even condemnation they all stay in the closet to be opened, dusted and again deposited in the safe closet. A soldier's vault contains these memories which are priceless and nothing else, so how can he let go of them...