Heirlooms

An heirloom has no monetary value for its owner until it’s stolen or lost. Do you find this assertion outrageous? Then read on.

Let us assume you own a diamond necklace worth a crore of rupees (~£100,000). That’s how much it’ll cost to replace it at today’s prices. You have inherited the item from your mother who got it from her mother who got it .. you get the idea. It’s been in the family for several generations. Not only is it worth a lot of money but it also holds a tremendous amount of sentimental value. It is an heirloom. So, you would never sell it. Not to buy that sexy new car you always crave for, not to finance the house extension you so desire, not to send your children to Harvard. No.

You will hold on to it as if your very life depends on it. You would not sell it even if you are starving. Well, maybe you would sell it if you were starving but I have never heard of starving diamond owners. Hence we will dismiss this hypothetical scenario.

What you have in your possession, what you guard with your life, what you worry about and lose sleep over, is really worthless – monetarily speaking. Sentimental value – certainly – a lot. But you can’t eat sentiment, neither can you buy that jazzy car with it. You might just as well store a piece of granite in your high security safe. If on the other hand you lose it, its true potential starts shining through like the floodlights of an IPL stadium.

Let us explore this further. Imagine, one day your diamond necklace is stolen. You will file an insurance claim to recover its value. A crore of rupees landing in your bank will take the sting out of your loss. Yes, you will miss the heirloom, your children will be deprived of their inheritance. But you will be richer, with the new money in the bank opening up multiple possibilities. Your loss becomes your gain.

And the thief? S/he is laughing all the way to the bank. No sloppy sentiments to worry about, just unadulterated profit. With the proceeds of the diamond sale, they could send their children to medical school, afford a new car, enjoy a holiday abroad. The potential is vast. The loss of an heirloom, therefore, makes life more comfortable for two individuals: you and the thief.

I wear a Rolex watch that belonged to my father. It’s nearly 40 years old. I have worn it everywhere despite the risk of getting mugged whether it is in the Bronx in New York or in Maputo in Mozambique. I have swum in the sea and lazed around in a sauna with the watch on my wrist. It runs smoothly, uncomplaining, deriving its energy from the movement of my arm. I never take it off except while sleeping.

Recently I decided to take an overnight train from Bangalore to Thalassery, my hometown. I lay awake in the lower berth ruing my decision to travel by train, unable to sleep or experience the magic of the train journeys of my past. Too many things had changed. I kept my watch under the pillow. When I woke up in the morning, I couldn’t find it. I looked everywhere – under the berth, inside the sheets, and eventually in the most unlikely places like the upper berth where it could only have reached by defying gravity. I was desperate.

Then, for fleeting moments, I suspected my co-passengers. Could it have been the couple who disembarked at 3 am at Coimbatore? Nah! They didn’t look like thieves. Could it be the guy snoring in the next berth? No. He’s sleeping too soundly for a thief. Then where oh where is my precious watch gone? I was miserable.

In my mind I had already started the process – filing an FIR at the police station, making an insurance claim, arguing with the insurance company, narrating my pathetic story to my sister and brother-in-law who I was visiting in Thalassery. I could almost hear by brother-in-law admonish me,

“How could you be so careless?”
“Only you would do such a thing!”
“Why carry valuables in the train?”
“You should have taken a flight.”

The loss of something that I had cherished for over three decades was painful. I sat staring through the dark tinted windows. Over the years I had developed a superstition concerning the watch. I believe the tutelary spirit of my father is protecting me and I am invincible while I wore it. Without it I felt naked and vulnerable. At least it was insured, I consoled myself rather weakly. I’ll use the cash to finance my travel to South America next year.

I decided to check one last time as the train was approaching my station. Shining my phone’s torch under the berth once again, I saw a glint of metal in the corner where the side bulkhead, the division bulkhead and the floor met. Crawling under the berth, I examined the object. It was the bracelet attached to my watch which had lodged itself between the linoleum on the floor and that on the bulkhead. It was as if someone had deliberately placed it there!

I was overcome by a mixture of immense relief and mild disappointment (at having to shelve my South American sojourn). I realised then that my watch was more than just an object of sentimental value. It made me feel like superman. And no, it’s not for sale.