The passing of the old

Recently, we decided to reupholster our furniture. The old cushions were flattened out by years of supporting our increasing weight, they were faded and the dust had got ingrained into the fabric. Besides, we were tired of the same old leaf green.

When we'd bought it, we'd thought it would make our little apartment look environmentally friendly and soothe those spirits longing for lawns and trees and flowers.

For years, it did. As we entered the house, we'd smile at the blend of colours, look at the pictures on our decoupage screen and marvel at how their beauty was enhanced by the neutral shades of the rest of the room.

Then, like most things and sadly, most people, too, the novelty paled. The colours disappeared into the background. Both screen and upholstery began to seem faded to our jaded eyes.

But the years passed and we let the upholstery stay. It served its purpose. We were accustomed to it. It didn't look too bad - so what if there were lovely new offerings on the market? There were a lot of other things we needed more.

Years passed and we remained on a cloud of comfortable ennui. It was only when there was a little extra jingle in the purse that we finally decided that it was time for a change. But in our house, even a little change cannot be made without a lot of debate.

Suggestions were bandied about by the few members of the family and the many outsiders whose opinions were sought. Words flew back and forth, some of them constructive but most quite useless, until at last a decision was reached.

A new set of lower cushions would do. We could feel the wood through the old foam and coir and rubber cushioning that we'd suffered for so many years. No more.

We needed to find something dazzling that would steal our hearts at first sight - we'd had enough of the old leaf green.

The dates were set. The time was fixed. Now all we had to do was agree on the perfect weave and print and colour. Through almost three decades, our joint decision-making process has been fraught with snares and pitfalls, snarls and pit fights and this was just another bout.

There in the shop, one headed to the bright floral prints and light weaves, the other went to the stodgy checks and stripes and universal browns and maroons - and the duel began. A spar here, a feint there as we held up the choicest of our choices for the other to view and got a grim shake of the head.

Desperation was beginning to show in the salesperson's demeanour when at last we stumbled on the perfect solution: no more prints and patterns, single colours were plentiful, we could choose anything we wanted from the samples.

This time, we didn't disagree: we pointed to the same piece, negotiations began and ended within minutes and we left happily, swathes of new leaf green tucked under our arms.

A week later, the new cushions are in place. They look eerily like the old, but maybe if you look closer you'll notice that the dust of ages hasn't settled in. We plunk down on them, then sit up straight.

These are too high, too stiff, too new. We can't sink into them and relax. Where is the familiar 'give' of the old upholstery that has been cast aside? How can we lounge on these when they haven't taken the shape of our bodies? How long will they take to form-fit themselves to us?

The passing of the old is never easy. For us, this is just one more in a series of poor decisions through the years - all that effort, just so that we can take ourselves off to recline on something else!

Cheryl Rao is a journalist based in India.