Each Object has a story to tell.
 

From my grandfather’s HMT watch, booked prior to buying, bought in the year 1961; to an old cassette player he still uses to listen to the radio in the evenings, bought at a fancy market in Calcutta around forty years ago - to the magnifying glass he uses to read the fine print on packaging with, and the torch that he keeps beside his pillow, used during his frequent walks to the tank to check the level of water.
 

From my grandmother’s old mirror - also bought in Calcutta around forty- five years ago, parts of which are stuck together using tape on a few broken edges - that she uses everyday to draw a red bindi perfectly in the middle of her eyebrows.
 

From my father’s T.V. remote clad with a new plastic cover, to the glasses he uses everyday to read books, watch a movie or while using the phone. A few objects from my mother’s morning stroll in the garden: plucking a few champa and marigold flowers, and leaves from the Tulsi plant (holy basil), to the surma dani (kohl container) she and I sometimes share.
 

From my brother’s cricket ball and his cricket gloves that he uses in the evenings to the book that he has only recently started to read.
 

All these objects come together - sometimes intermingling, sometimes far apart; some are vintage objects, some newly bought, some plucked from the garden, sometimes a source of a sound - to highlight certain qualities of each of their personalities and reenact the routine and lifestyle followed by each individual in my family.