salary slips from the first to last month of work, home loan papers, drawings of the floor plan of a house we had sold long ago, our sports and debate certificates, mother’s tailoring design cuttings, and many such things. One of the files had clippings of my column, dated with a pen, and pasted on a sheet of paper, punched and filed.
We took an entire week to go through it all. It was an emotional upheaval of tears, laughter, teasing and recall of memories.
However, we decided to confine it all to flames, except for a few letters. We could not agree whether this ritual made sense. We loved him dearly, but we did not perhaps cherish or appreciate his meticulous record keeping.
We saw it as obsessive for most part. In these modern times, we have mostly gotten over the accumulation of paper. However, we must make the decision to get rid of what might become junk after us.
We owe it to the children, and to ourselves. We live with guilt about the neglected attic; we fear that we may have lost something important; or we think we will miss something soon after we throw it away. We didn’t want to make the decision to sort, throw and clear.
We chose procrastination instead.
The digital age has resulted in junk of another kind. E-mail inboxes filled with mails we haven’t cared to read; photo apps filled with videos and pictures we may need another lifetime to watch; drop boxes and cloud storage filled with files whose names won’t even ring a bell, and so on. Since it costs so little to buy space storage and hardware, we think it is ok to just keep it all there.
The consumption age has brought another evil. Our houses are filled with so much stuff since we have taken to online shopping with great enthusiasm. Every situation
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