Things That Last

How a napkin is keeping me sane in a year of unwanted solitude and instability

Dear reader,

I’ve been quiet, I know. Apart from holiday season shenanigans, I’ve been taking time to really reflect on a pretty crazy year.

This week I’ve been thinking about things that last. As the year draws to a close, I don’t know if I can recognise the person I was two weeks ago, let alone in January. Personally, 2023 has been a barrage of changes - some good, some bad, most just a bit inconvenient for someone who just wants to finish her reading list.

I got promoted, I fell in love, I broke away from all the people I knew in this country, I spent time with my grandmother after years, I learned from some incredible teachers, I got my heart broken, and I’m begrudgingly discovering just how much change can exist in the space of a year.

In the middle of all that and more, things that last seem like a myth. Then Ammamma did the laundry.

She brought out this plain looking napkin, green and orange in Madras cotton - and in two sentences, changed it from a cloth to something of immense value.

“Kaavi, guess how old this napkin is.”

I guessed fifteen years. My sister guessed twenty.

(We were being audacious for the fun of it).

The napkin in question

After some back and forth, we discovered that this little thing, this object of no importance, was seventy years old.

“My mother had this made for me - and gave it to my class teacher as part of my lunch kit when I was in the third standard.”

Kuki and I are used to things lasting a maximum of fifteen years, only because we didn’t grow much after the age of ten. But seventy years? That is ridiculous. Then we learned it wasn’t just custom made for my grandma, it was made at my great-grandfather’s textile store in Madras, which in turn was named after her. I didn’t even know he had one of those - all I knew is that he was a successful spice trader in British India, and that his empire disappeared shortly after his death. (Truth is, no one who is truly great is really that replaceable - think of Apple post-Steve Jobs, Disney post-Aaron Blaise, Animal Planet post-Steve Irwin, and Twitter post-Jack Dorsey.)

In the age of H&M, seeing this little napkin live so long was a thing of wonder. The people who made it are long gone, as are my great grandparents. Wars have been fought, technology turned from analog to digital to virtual, children were born, pandemics spread, and this humble thing has just kept serving its purpose for nearly a century.

When you have one single reason to live, you embody that with your entire lifetime. When you embody that purpose and you are properly taken care of by the people who love you, you become immortal. You are the dent in the universe, by simply being you.

Of course, I’m not out here trying to make a Pixar movie on a handkerchief but it really presented simplicity and focus - two things I’m taking with me into 2024.

All that’s left is to see how long it lasts.

See you in 2024,

Kaav