But there is this psychological aspect to packing that often gets unnoticed. A deep rooted retrospection. An nostalgic-slow-motion evaluation of memories of the entire duration for which we had lived in the place. Human beings have this lock of emotional bonds. Whenever we get too used to people or things, we lock them up. Bound by the chains of commitment even the inanimate objects seek redemption when we finally decide to leave a surrounding.
But till the moment of packing, we are too involved in the logistics and transportation, charting out the train and bus timings, rechecking with the auto-walas and fighting with the taxi drivers on account of their ridiculous initial quote. Once u get into packing, things start befalling to an hierarchical stack of memoirs. The moment you thought of this this particular venture, the dis satisfactions that arose initially, the reason which made you adamant to choose it, the initial protests by family, the convincing and false hopes, and finally the packing you did to get here. Strangely enough, its the bad memories that make you teary eyed during the after-thought. That one unbelievably strict lab superintendent, that sad excuse for a boss or that incessantly nagging co-worker. All these become inconveniently welcome aspects without which you feel that something is not just right.
The reason may be because that we let ourselves be defined by these external stimuli. Whenever we come to a new place, everything is foreign and nobody knows us. You have to start from zero. You have to build up your entire profile and we do this very organically. We adapt ourselves to the people whom we are with. We become answers to their sinister questions about us. " So, looks like you really like apple juice!" "Yes I do. I love it." And then you begin appreciating apple juice. We try to inconspicuously blend in so that we are regarded as a member of their pack all at the same time, they are doing it too. So somewhere in these initial formalities we establish an emotional equilibrium with some people with whom we can totally become us. And they can be them. And nothing is concealed.
Leaving them to continue with your own is like ripping off that old bandage. If done quickly it just a jolting pain. But if you take a long time to say your goodbyes, its emotionally draining. It even breaks all cliches like men don't cry and 'mard ko dard nahi hota.' If ever you want to seen a man cry, just catch him on the day when he vacates any combined living environment that he had called home for some time. If he is not even a little moist in the eyes, well , take him to a doctor.
So as you are rolling your socks into little balls and stuffing it into the pockets of your folded trousers, you dish out a gray smile thinking to yourself hey, it wasn't so bad after all. May be that's what gives us the energy and the zest to undertake packings in the future and may be what Red said was right, hope may be the best of things.
