{"id":1445,"date":"2018-04-26T20:49:57","date_gmt":"2018-04-26T15:19:57","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/museumofmaterialmemory.com\/?p=1445"},"modified":"2018-04-30T21:21:41","modified_gmt":"2018-04-30T15:51:41","slug":"the-sea-of-silver","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/museumofmaterialmemory.com\/the-sea-of-silver\/","title":{"rendered":"The sea of silver"},"content":{"rendered":"

TEXT & PHOTOS BY AANCHAL MALHOTRA\u00a0<\/strong>
\nNew Delhi, India
\n<\/em>Originally published in\u00a0<\/em>Remnants of a Separation:<\/span> A History of the Partition through Material Memory<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/em><\/a><\/strong>(HarperCollins 2017)<\/p>\n

The past has been surfacing frequently and unexpectedly these days. It is March 2016. I return home from work to find my paternal grandmother, my dadi<\/em>, hunched over the bed, sifting through a pile of metal. a plastic sheet has been spread over the mattress, and her elusive coin collection, unseen by me but talked about frequently by my father, has been toppled on to the sheet. For as long as I can remember, this coin collection has lived discreetly inside a blue velvet pouch. Rupee, paisa, anna, taka, dhela \u2013 a veritable hoard amassed by her over the years. Mementos of monetary change in the subcontinent, some passed down from her mother and some her own. Today, they are strewn across the sheet, and my grandmother\u2019s long fingers pick at them erratically.<\/p>\n

But this is not an unusual sight in our house, especially of late. My grandfather died a few weeks ago and the plastic sheet has been ceremoniously laid out many, many times since. as drawers and cupboards are gradually emptied, belongings are laid out \u2013 some his, some theirs \u2013 to be classified for keeping or discarding. Coupled with this sorting are memories, which inevitably tumble out alongside.<\/p>\n

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