As a kid, June meant getting ready to return to school after the long summer break.
It also meant new books, a new uniform, a new umbrella and a lot of other things can be prefixed with ‘NEW’.
There was something about all those brand new things that wiped away my dread of being back in school; especially after such a long, lazy and fun vacation — usually spent with my cousins in Kerala or mostly outside my home in Udupi all day long.
But just because all things new made my eyes glitter and my heart race with excitement, my parents didn’t always give in to my requests for new stuff. The rules in the house were pretty clear.
Nothing new until the old ones have worn off
Nothing new until the old ones are beyond repair
And, nothing new unless it can’t be handed down from my elder sibling
Funny how this felt like a punishment back then.
To find my school bag in perfectly good condition three years in a row sank my heart. I knew I wasn’t going to get a new one this coming June.
To find my sandal strap broken only meant my mother would walk me to the cobbler to get it repaired. No new pair until this one is beyond repair, of course!
To discover that my sister still had her school textbooks piled away neatly for me meant no smell of fresh print to excite me this new year. Yet another disappointment!
None of it made sense to me then.
None of it made sense to me years later when I hoarded things — books, bags, sandals, clothes and every other weird stuff.
But today, it all makes sense.
I’m sitting in my bed, having “feviquik”-ed together two ends of my Crocs that were coming apart. I’m waiting for the glue to dry. And guess what — I’m excited!
I’m excited to save this sandal and run with it for another season. And not invest in a new pair!!
It’s exciting now when my mobile ages and doesn’t lose its spark even after 3 years of use.
It’s exciting when I watch my clothes slowly fade without feeling the need to urgently pick 2–3 more pairs to replace this one.
The fact that I don’t need to invest in another pair of ANYTHING unless absolutely necessary is somehow liberating.
The fact that I can sew those wears and tears in my clothes, mend my sandals over and over, and reuse things as much as possible is NOW exciting.
It never even felt like an option all those years when I kept buying more clothes and shoes and accessories. Something breaks? Throw it away. Something tears? Replace with a new one. Something rips? Discard it.
I guess that’s what being gripped by the messages of fast fashion looks like.
But something flipped in me over time.
Maybe because every time I saw a pair of sandals washed up the sea shore…when I saw a pair of trousers gracing the dump yard around the corner of that city garden, I knew what my parents or probably that generation did was right.
When I found myself feeling like I didn’t have enough even after cupboards full of clothing, shoes and accessories, and decision making around getting ready for work took hours, I knew what my parents or probably that generation did was right.
As a kid, I may have seen it very differently. Rather, I definitely saw it differently. I saw stinginess or lack of love through my baby eyes.
And then when I got a bit of financial freedom, I splurged my way live that dream of owning all those things I ever wanted.
But today, I crave to go back to my parent’s values and practices.
Every time I see my mother refuse plastic carry bags.
Every time I see her turn an old unused item into a planter.
Every time I see her convert an old shirt into a dusting towel.
Every time my father questions if a purchase is absolutely necessary.
I don’t cringe anymore. I feel proud and take a moment to learn from them.
Of course, can’t I just buy another pair, for God’s sake! That’s more convenient any day!
But maybe it isn’t about convenience anymore. Maybe it never was.
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