Me and my not so Little Secret
As
my fingers click away at the keys and my mind makes so much of noise my peripheral vision catches a tiered tray adorned with
labelled pebbles and stones - a chip of the Berlin wall, a tiny but a prized part of a block I picked up as I walked the creepy hollows of Cheops
Pyramid at Giza and many more. My favourite is of course the white marblish
pebble I laid my hands on when I dipped my hand in the waters where Jesus
walked- Sea of Galilee in Northern Palestine. A more recent one from Lochness
, Scotland – maybe it was touched by Nessie, you never know !
A
friend of mine has wall to wall cabinets with collectibles from around the
world- from ostrich eggs to native American knives. Seriously I find it so
overwhelming. Another has a collection of match boxes she can lay her hands on. My
pebble collection sounds more convincing or does it? I have been wondering what
this is all about and why people ‘collect’. I had to get back to the mind and I did.
Funnily Freud talks about the need to collect stems from unresolved toilet
training conflict! This he says is a traumatic experience therefore the need to
hold back and gain control!!! He talks of the dark and the impulsive side of
collecting and I am Intrigued. Read about the Endowment Effect and maybe I
could agree. Many other wannabes relate this joyous practice to insecurities
and emptiness but I am not convinced. I
collect – I do not hoard! The great Carl Jung goes back to how we collected
nuts and seeds for survival – the collective unconscious s*** ! They could be
all trying to join the dots.
The
good news is, collecting is still mostly
associated with happy and positive emotions.
The collector finds happiness in them – from going after it , finding it
and admiring the trophy. It is a mind
thing . It is for me a happy mind game. It is a feeling of well being that
comes with having admiration for things in life. I cannot but agree.
Teapots
– the almost archaic thing especially in this part of the world has given me a
feeling of warmth – of heart and hearth both. Don’t know when this love story
began – maybe when I sang ‘ I am a
tea-pot ,fat and stout’ with one arm on the waist and the other turned out
imitating a spout, as a toddler in Holy Cross Montessori
School. Maybe then, I do not not know but yes, I love them . The only way to
show this love was to collect them. We had a tea set back then – a white pot
with tiny orange floral design. The pot
was my secret vault- my money and candy
bars all went in there and was safe
within those curvy white porcelain
walls. I have grown up admiring teapots in crockery cabinets , in stores
, in my uncle’s dining room, in school when the bearer carried a tray with
teapot and all to the sick child upstairs in the infirmary.
 |
| A hand painted Jameson and Tailor teapot from my collection |
Bought my first tea set for my parents in New Delhi – a cream and blue handmade pottery and
I did not stop there. I was lucky to
have a travel job so I traveled and shopped for teapots around the globe. Today I have a 4th generation
heirloom pure silver teapot handed down
to me by my mother – in – law, a hand painted beauty I picked up in France, a
24 K gold plated Russian baby, a
curvy Delft pot , a soft paste English beauty
and array of Chinese porcelain
miniatures from around China and the far
east. The more humble aluminium ‘ketlis’ from around India and some french press that I added to my
collection are no less special. They all
are a big part of my life. All in all I have 48 and counting. Teapots in
tea towels, teapot hangers and teapots
in my cross stitch patches – I love then all.
My
children have also propelled the ‘collector’ in me. It crossed my mind when my mother said ‘ What are you going to do
with all these things? Start a museum of your own? From their first lock of
hair to their first clipped nails , their first books and toys all find a
place in our big VIP suitcase. In went
their first movie ticket and the school report cards one by one. The once
a year ‘rakhi’ Viveka ties on Siddharth
also goes in there. Bits of papers that started with scribbles with ‘b’s as
‘d’s and the more recent cards and
surprise letters . That big black suitcase is my tabernacle! A highly prized possession. Well ,there will
definitely be no museum but yes my children will have a space to delve into and
maybe my grandchildren will be
grateful to fuss over those things of
the past and wonder about the ‘crazy nan’. I will be one happy old woman with a
cabinet full of teapots!
I cannot
rest my case here.Buddha figurines and the fridge magnets!
You
would not want to hear or would you? Maybe you would but I need to go. Sigmund Freud probably you got it right yet again !
22,
June 2017
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