Dating back to 1939, this coin box was a part of my grandmother’s wedding trousseau and of the two or three boxes she was given, this one survived the stretch of time and the tides of displacement. In case of a fall or dent, my grandmother would lose no time in taking it to the neighbourhood metalsmith for a quick fix. Sometimes she would ask me to accompany her, an excursion that I would enjoy every morsel of.

One such thing is a beautiful Persian carpet, which started its life in Qom where my husband’s grandparents bought it while on holiday more than 50 years ago. In the centre is a medallion, a tradition harking back to early 15th century Persian Manuscript covers. The medallion has four flowers coming off at each corner topped with a palm tree motif.

During his days in Lahore, communal tension began rising in the wake of an imminent independence and possible partitioning of the land. To protect himself, Mian Baljit Singh bought this sword. But apart from that, I believe that it was also considered as a symbol of status and style.

When we first found them, I had no idea about the rug’s rich history, about the fact that they were gifts at such an important moment in my mother’s life. It was only when she began talking about them, caressing the rug’s threads, grazing her hands across the woven tapestry, that I realized that an object could mean so much to a person.

I never knew my nana, my maternal grandfather. Everything I know about him is through conversations with my mother. His name was Sri Ram Puri and he worked as an engineer with the royal families in Punjab and Rajasthan. This gramophone belonged to him.