Rusty and beloved

Memories enshrined in a household closet

Loved ones go, the objects of their daily life stay. And some trace of the departed, tidbit of a particular memory perhaps, is evoked by those objects. Like in this small rusty almirah. Its surface is discoloured in patches. Parts of it are scrawled with chalk. There are scratches, too. In ordinary circumstances, it would simply be thrown out of the house.

But not in Suresh Bohat’s home, here in Gurugram’s Sadar Bazar. “My wife looked after it everyday with love and respect,” he says, referring to Santa Devi who died on February 22, aged 52. “This almirah is her nishani,” he says (the photo is of an earlier time showing them two with the almirah). Suresh Bohat is a welder, but he was also a “safari karamchari” in a primary school and retired last month. Talking reverently, he adds that the almirah for him today has grown to a symbol of many people “who are close to me and who have left this world”.

The metal closet is kept outside the main doorway of the house and is stacked with Mr Bohat’s welding equipments. “This almirah was bought many years ago by my father.” Shri Mangey Ramji was a “safai karamchari” in a government department. “I don’t remember when he bought it. I was too small.” The father died more than 20 years ago.

For many years, the almirah was used as a wardrobe by his mother, Moorti Devi. “In those times we didn’t have much clothes... each member in the family owned just a single set or two... Maa used to keep all the household clothes in this little almirah.”

The mother is no more.

It was about a decade ago that the family bought a new almirah “with a modern design” and it was decided to do away with the old one. “Of course there was no question of getting rid of it,” his late wife Santa Devi had declared to the family. She had reasoned that the almirah was a nishani of the hardworking life led by her husband’s parents “and as long as we are alive this almirah shall remain a part of our world.”

Today, using it as a storage for his tools, Mr Bohat says, “Loved ones go but they leave behind their reminders.”