Thinking Inside the Box

"You think you forgot something?" asked Sagar, wondering why I was staring at the car trunk for so long.

"No, none that I can forget. Let's head home!" I said, quizzically as always, as I joined him on the front of his Santro. It was time to bid good-bye to my abode in Chennai.

It turned out to be a beautiful drive along the East Coast Road to Pondicherry;  fresh rays of a rising sun fell on our shoulders, as the two of us, everyday-soldiers as we were, discussed our everyday-battles that we forge for a living.

"Dude, your stuff are going to be just fine," he said plainly, annoyed by my frequent turns to the rear of the car. "Trust me!" Are they gonna fall off the car or what? Silly old friend of mine!

I let out a weak smile, strong enough to conceal the thought that I couldn't help but not let go of ever since I had boarded the car: How my entire life, and all my assets and possessions, had fit snugly into the mere boot of a car!

And then I began to 'appraise' myself...

First, there's me (i.e., my body, if I'm allowed to call it an asset!), wearing my eye-glasses, a pair of jeans, a t-shirt, a watch and a pair of all-terrain shoes; my wallet carrying some cash, my ATM cards linked to my salary and savings accounts, my driver's licence, PAN card and all  my other ID cards, and a few seemingly worthless articles that bring back priceless memories only I know of; my Xperia which holds my calendar and to-do lists, along with all my beloved family and friends in its address book.

Second, my backpack carrying a folder that holds all of my certificates and documents - right from school through to college and work - my Acer laptop, a Made-in-India umbrella, a pouch of stationery and another of toiletries, and my personal and professional diaries.

Third, a suitcase that comfortably accommodates all of my modest wardrobe.

Fourth, a king-size bag carrying all of my books, which has grown rapidly from empty to dangerously over-loaded in the last couple years, thanks to a few of my close (and slimy) book-worm friends.

Fifth, a foldaway mat that I sleep on.

And finally, my music production synthesizer keyboard, a pair of Sony monitor-headphones and other music accessories.

Although, in this journey so far, I may not have amassed enough possessions to impress 'chics' or to pass on to progeny, I cannot find a more belittling truth than that I, my asset and life's possessions can all be thrown inside a mere box...

... even when I'm alive and breathing!