Neatly packed cardboard boxes, underlined with polythene to make them waterproof so that the books don’t get wet. Brown taped. And again, for added strength. And yet every time some books get destroyed.
My Louis L’amour collection was handpicked by the movers and packers for a particularly twisted fate.
And if my life over the last eight years can be summed up in boxes, so be it.
Though ‘summed up’ doesn’t feel quite right as the number of boxes have been getting fewer by the year.
I am beginning to get obsessed with these boxes. What strength. Which tape. Should I call the movers and packers or should I just call the movers and pack it myself.
The brand of the boxes and the look of them have come to signify cities for me. And vice versa.
Delhi is a thin box. Careless. Money saving. Useless. And you can expect life to become lazily twisted, like my books, once you are done unpacking.
Mumbai is a thick skinned box. But kinda wet and slimy. Can’t trust it from the appearance. But it will surprise you once you unpack. Luck will decide if the surprise will be pleasant or otherwise.
Amsterdam is a pile of neat boxes. Nicely designed. Matter of factly. Even the packing tape is great. If you pile up the boxes it looks like avant garde architecture of Rotterdam.
London. Damn. I am dreading my first move. Within the city and then eventually out of it. It promises to be an unnerving experience. But I am sure I will get to the bottom of this box too.
© Hemant Anant Jain