But the past came most alive whenever these coins were taken out. They were charged with stories that may not have emerged otherwise – each coin held a different tale, a different style of narration, the varied emotions giving those aged metal pieces a meaning.
This pot or Sipri, as it is known in Sindhi, belonged to my great-great-grandmother, Chaturbai. She was married somewhere in the 1890s and the metal pot was given to her on the occasion of her wedding.
Last year, my mother gave me a carnelian-coloured brooch from Avon, circa 1970, that belonged to her mother. I’d always known that my grandmother used to be an Avon Lady
The Motor Driving Licence was issued in the former East Pakistan (present day Bangladesh) in the city of Dhaka, where my mother tells me her father lived for some time.
This Chunni or nose ring found its way to Bombay on the nose of its fiery, feisty owner, Lakshmibai Chhabria. She continued to wear it even after she lost her husband, her eldest son and her land of birth, all with one single Partition line, lakeer, as they call it in our family.
In the corner of Sandhya Venkat’s typical Madras home, a beautiful copper patina of burgundy and dark green catches the light pouring in through the courtyard. Although maintained exquisitely, turquoise and white spots reveal its proximity to the coast. The copper boiler originates from Madras and is likely from 1943.
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