Long before SMS and email, when there wasn't so much talk about conserving forests and protecting the environment, one household alone was responsible for a lot of seemingly unnecessary paper work.
It started when two people decided to get to know each other long distance - and simultaneously got to know the postmen and the stationers rather well.
Then, as newly-marrieds occupied with different careers, with hours that didn't synchronise and a daily routine that saw them going their separate ways for days on end, it was back to the paper trail.
Loving notes were stuck on the fridge or left on the table, and somehow, give or take a few chits flying off with the breeze and reaching a neighbour's prying eyes, each knew what the other's plans were.
As wedded bliss slid into married blitz, the notes became less loving, then rather perfunctory, "Don't you dare touch the pudding I've made for tomorrow's party" or "NO GAS - BET YOU DIDN'T BOOK IT," sometimes fodder for a fight, or the carry-over of one.
Just in time to remember that there once was magic in the relationship, a chip of the two blocks found his way into their lives and reams were recorded about each gurgle and burp!
From the slightly skewed view of hindsight it seems that he had barely said his first words when another paper chase began - certainly long before he could read and appreciate the written word!
Soon little fingers curled around a pencil and wrote the first letters of the alphabet, drew surprisingly well-proportioned figures and progressed to misspelled notes in the lunch box.
Those were read and re-read, kept as bookmarks and displayed to all who had the time to look. As the drawings became better, some were laminated and framed and hung on the wall, the others found their way into cupboards and boxes and suitcases, even old jars lying about the house.
All precious, read time and again, then stacked away to be enjoyed another day. Maybe somewhere in the deepest recesses of a mother's presentiment, I knew that a time would come when no matter what the bribe or threat or offer, large grown-up hands would not let go of the mouse or the joystick and put pen to paper!
Photographs from all angles
But it was not just letters and drawings that made up the litter. School work from Day One - from squiggles to recognisable words - test papers (one needs to keep a record of the first 10 on 10 as well as the first 0 on 10), photographs from every angle from pint size to overgrown, cuttings from magazines and newspaper for school projects, term papers - all were preserved.
Recently, when opening a cupboard yielded a cascade of slightly yellowed memories, I knew it was time for a review of the bits of paper saved and strewn all around the house. Resolve strong, I began to sort out what to keep and what to throw.
Many, many hours later, one pile was high enough for me to take a break - and then I realised that the mile-high pile wasn't the one I intended to discard! Girding myself grimly once more, I sat down to re-sort, this time armed with cold-hearted reason and hard-headed space considerations!
But reason and good sense cannot explain why a sense of anticipation and excitement always fills me as I put my hand on a cupboard door, why those scraps brings a smile or a tear, why a search for one piece of paper yields dividends beyond expectations.
So with a quick look over my shoulder to make sure no one is watching, I push them all back into their dark corners to rest untouched until I feel the need to go once more on a voyage into the past in search of the only real treasures I have.
Cheryl Rao is a journalist based in India.
