How would it be if you woke up one morning and realised that all the things you had spent time, money and effort collecting over half a lifetime were essentially unimportant? That Morano masterpiece you bought on your honeymoon in Venice with its endearing chips from the babies, no longer graces your living room. Nor does the trousseau silver or china add elegance to your dining table. The new Armani outfit you splurged on for your anniversary lies shrouded in your wardrobe on a rack of ageing designer clothes…and all those jewels you proudly spent your Diwali bonus on, now sparkle only for the benefit of your locker. You feel bereft - as if you've left a part of yourself with those prized possessions - but all you can take on your next chapter in life is the contents of one 20 kg suitcase.

That's what happened to me when I accepted an assignment in East Timor. This was a field assignment so there would be no container filled with worldly goods arriving on the remote island - where we needed it most. I was apprehensive to say the least…. If only I knew then what I know now: that it is possible to be completely happy even fulfilled, with a tenth of my possessions. True, I knew the Buddhist-Gandhian view on attachment to worldly goods. My father had joined the bhudaan movement when I was a kid and would have donated the family heirlooms had it not been for my mother's strenuous threats. As a service officer's daughter, I had grown up in the austerity of the '60s and '70s - meatless days and no cereals once a week as families donated their rations to the brave jawans. But I'd left all that behind me once I joined the rat race and as life entered the fast lane in the '90s, my possessions gave me the joy and security I could no longer bank on in my most intimate relationships. Acquisition became an antidote for angst.

I look back on my periodic bouts of 'shopaholicism' now and grimace at thousands of dollars, francs and rupees spent on things I am happily doing without. But I needed them then. When life handed me a lemon, I would reach for my credit card and go on a spree - if you haven't already discovered retail therapy, believe me there's no faster cure for heartbreak, job stress or anxiety than that gorgeous dress which makes one feel like a million dollars. Retail therapy was my panacea for many ills - till I came to an island where there was no retail.

Here, it doesn't matter if I'm wearing last year's - or even last decade's - fashion because no one cares. Even the internationals (or malai as the locals call us) wear shorts to embassy dinners because the dress code is more about comfort, not elegance or purchasing power. We have few status symbols here: there's really no 'posh' part of town (except for a row of half dozen houses - too small to become a snob ghetto); our cars are practical workhorses not state-of-the-art sedans or limos and our homes are not showcases for our travels and bank accounts…though we are all transnational gypsies earning generous tax free salaries.

Here's what I have come to value about this no-frills existence: when people are stripped of their status symbols, you peel away the layers of social armour and see them as they are. There's no pressure to keep up appearances when all you have are the contents of one suitcase. In this quasi-Marxian setting, released from the pressure of looking better than our neighbours, it's so much easier to make genuine friendships based on mutual interests, shared beliefs and attractive personality traits.

How much more enriching to nurture friendships with people for what they are than what they have…I always knew this was true but I'm living it now in a way that makes me wonder why I ever spent a moment worrying about being on the A list of the current society hostess. There are no society hostesses here; true, there are a few who are more influential than others, but we relate to each other as colleagues not 'connections'.

It helps that most of us have worthwhile jobs to some degree or other since we are all involved in projects that are helping to lay the foundations of a new nation; professionally, life has never been more rewarding. Many of my colleagues have chosen to live away from their families in uncomfortable circumstances because they genuinely believe in the cause of development…. I don't want to draw halos around heads but there is a tribe of humanitarian workers who get their kicks not from boardroom or bedroom politics but simply from working for those less fortunate. In the cut-throat world from which I hail, where you're only as good as your last byline, your last deal or your last collection, this altruistic concern for the needy comes hard to the self-absorbed.

Yet, when you turn your attention from yourself to others, your things, your status and its symbols become less significant. In fact, it's a classic tool for alleviating depression - focus on the problems of others and your own will be forgotten! The other thing that happens when you have no public standards to maintain, so to speak, is that superficial needs disappear, to reveal your real needs. In the slow pace of life on the island, I have had the time to reflect on these as I sit quietly watching the orange sun slip nightly into a turquoise sea. To drop out of the rat race, to downsize, to simplify one's needs as a way of reducing stress, to redefine success as personal growth maybe…these are not modern mantras for 21st century losers, they can offer us another way of living that reconnects us to ourselves and more meaningfully to others. As an exercise, I recommend you try living out of the contents of one suitcase for one year.