The almirah

A standout feature in older homes was the almirah. It was gigantic, a veritable Empire State Building that loomed large and filled an entire wall. A behemoth, it was tough to imagine that it was transported into the room. It was as if the rooms were built around this monolith.

We do not know where it originated- but in South India, the almirah was better known as the “bureau”. The French pronunciation had to be altered in keeping with the local tongue as “beerow”. There was no South Indian home without its row of “beerows”.

The almirah had no place for ornamentation. It was a plain, rectangular block with a natural, rusty shade. Anything that was deemed important was stashed away in it. The almirah had a locker with a separate security lock. When there was a wedding in the family, out came jewelry handed down from a distant past. The action was always behind closed doors and away from prying eyes, as though an immense treasure lay within!

Secrecy was tough especially when the almirah made so much noise to open and close it. You shuffled with the bunch of keys, till you eventually found one that worked. The almirah creaked and protested as though woken from deep slumber. Once open, an aroma wafted from its interiors. Silk sarees, all perfumed with sandalwood dust, lay neatly stacked in one shelf. Another shelf was filled with silverware that gleamed like cut-diamonds. A third shelf was the odd man out. It was cluttered with files and papers dating back to time immemorial. Frayed at the edges and yellowed with age, the files had a prehistoric look. You could not throw a single paper away, for the fear that it may be the most important one you would need later.

Some almirahs were short and stout, and their tops doubled up as a shelf. An entire family grew over time- medicine strips well past their expiry, pen-stands with age-old stationery and assorted items that can be generalized as “trash”. No one knew what lay behind the almirahs. Like the dark side of the moon, it stayed unknown. When chased around, lizards and spiders disappeared behind the almirah. You were certain that the blackhole swallowed them whole!

Modern homes have no almirahs. Maligned now as an eyesore, almirahs are replaced with dainty wooden closets. Much like the present world, the new closets are pretty, but their utility is questionable! Almirahs were like “alamaras”, giant banyan trees. They stood as silent sentinels and oversaw generations that grew under their immense shade. The golden days of childhood were played out under their caring eyes. We wonder where those almirahs are now standing, if at all!