Trinkets and Treasures

Anyone who has been on this planet for a decade or more knows the value of the small, deeply personal treasures that make up an individual's collection of keepsakes. These are sometimes things given to us by family members or close friends – occasionally, they have been handed down through generations. But equally often, they may be things that remind us of a particular time or event in our lives, like a seashell picked up while on holiday, or a piece of rock collected during a walk in the forest. And, of course, for those of us who have particular interests – in my case, for example, books – precious things can be mementos related to such passions. Put together, such treasures tell a very personal story about the history of an individual.
Among my earliest and most precious keepsakes were the two small plastic toys that arrived on top of my fifth birthday cake. That birthday was celebrated in London, and I was more excited about the smiling blue elephant and its more serious companion, the yellow lion, than I was by my cake or presents. Our baggage got lost when we returned to Bangladesh the following year, and I was devastated. Many years later, I told my best friend about “the blue elephant with the yellow lion” that had accompanied my cake. I was touched when she subsequently gifted me a small, multi-coloured patchwork elephant, with a yellow stripe running across its back, and told me, “See, you have a blue elephant with a yellow line again!” Although she had misheard my mention of the lion as “line”, this (mostly) blue elephant with its yellow stripe subsequently became a treasured memento in its own right.

Another item dear to my heart also came to me via a friend – in a somewhat unusual manner. As a teenager, visiting a friend's home in the UK, I came across some books piled up untidily on the floor, propped against a corridor wall. An incorrigible bookworm, I stopped to inspect them, and was amazed to see that they were all hardbacks, and several appeared to be first editions by famous authors. When I asked my friend, she mentioned that her wealthy uncle had decided to validate his aspirations to culture by purchasing the entire library of some well-bred, well-read member of the British intellectual aristocracy. Unfortunately, her uncle wasn't much of a reader, and quickly lost interest in his purchase.
“You might as well take one, they're just going to end up in the rubbish otherwise!” she said. I demurred initially, but could not bear to think that books like that could be thrown away. In the end, they disappeared under suspicious circumstances. But not before I had rescued one of them. It remains one of my most precious possessions. I chose a first edition hardback containing three of George Bernard Shaw's plays, simply inscribed by Shaw himself to his friend, G.K. Chesterton (the author of the “Father Brown” mysteries): “To GKC, from GBS”.
I will always be grateful to my friend for her insistence on giving me that gift, and we recently had an unexpected sequel, of sorts. My friend had come to Bangladesh for a visit with her nine-year-old son, who is very interested in antiques and artifacts, including old coins (yes, he is an unusual kid!)
During their visit, my mother remembered that she had a few old coins given to her by my aunt, who had been a collector. Some of the coins dated back to the Mughal era, and my friend's son was completely fascinated by them. He also displayed a rather disconcerting degree of knowledge about the Mughals, including the Emperor Shah Jahan, who is of course famous for having had the Taj Mahal built as a memorial for his wife, Mumtaz, in Agra.

Quite spontaneously, my mother asked the youngster if he would like to choose one of the coins to keep as his own. His face lit up, his delight evident, and he spent quite some time choosing “his” coin! Afterwards, he talked mile-a-minute about his plans to find out more about the origins of the coin, and how he needed to go to the British Museum to do some more research.
Listening to him chatter, I couldn't help taking a special pleasure in the thought that this little boy would treasure this unexpected gift from my mother over the years to come, just as I have treasured the equally unexpected gift of the book that his mother gave me so many years ago. It was also nice to see someone so young being so passionate about history, my favourite subject at school.
Finally, speaking of history, that has a way of leaving you with both keepsakes and questions. The recent anniversary celebrations in Germany commemorating the fall of the Berlin Wall reminded me of one such keepsake of my own: the small chunks of the Wall that I took as a souvenir, when I was visiting the city as a student in 1989. It also left me with a question - about when (and indeed, whether) the Israeli wall in the occupied West Bank will ever fall.
Oddly, after being haunted by this thought for several days, I came across a news item about a small group of Palestinian activists who are associated with resistance movements in villages around northwest Jerusalem. They had hacked away at the barrier, known by Palestinians as the “Apartheid Wall”, as a symbolic gesture to commemorate the fall of the Berlin Wall, and to draw attention to their plight. Their accompanying statement highlighted their belief: "No matter how high walls are built, they will fall. Just as the Berlin Wall fell, the wall in Palestine will fall, along with the occupation". I hope we will all live to see that day. It would be a memory worth treasuring.