This time he kept me at arm’s length and I was left hanging. Dripping off me were pale droplets. I just hung on only to be literally yoked on to a firm support in an absolutely staccato manner. Aged hands, soft hands; supple hands, nervous hands – all worked on me to make me what I am today!
Alas! I am hanging again…. suspended in a corner and over-looked; perhaps, I was just too plain Jane – a pale complexion with hints of dull rose smattering bit here and there. This never-ending isolation was jolted out of its snooze by the eyes that found me enormously beautiful. Thereafter, I was never to leave this persona’s side except on some days when the royal highness – after all, the one who chose me – accorded me chance to rest.
I travelled well-protected against the glaring eyes of the passers-by from the safe confines of home to work too – contented to be with my beloved and the one whose favourite I was! The softness of the touch made me alive. The deft way of handling me through the walks, talks, jumps, runs, scrambles, falls, daily humdrum – all of it made my life far more textured – ironed out again smoothly by the delicate touch!
With time, I shared my love with yet another one. Well, I do mind the caress not just saved for me or another partner of my beloved for some time now; but a third one! I was J and big time…. Now, the third touch is the gentlest of all and I so wish this self would tug at me more, wrap me in the tiny fingers, chew me off…..
And now, I hang again…. She, my mistress has chosen an effortless comrade. She says – I tire her out. She needs to pay more attention to me. And, I’m too demanding.
So, I hang in her wardrobe longingly looking when the door opens and the exhausted hands select another, and not me, her much loved saree – who waits in edgy patience to spring to life again. She looks at me and says – “You have been one of my dearest. I will give you to my precious grand-daughter.” I’m waiting to refresh my journey again, till my last thread of life J
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