When I was made, fine white luxurious threads knitted together, I wondered over this life given to me. I looked at myself...white, like a new born soul...soft and light, like the morning rays resting on a new tulip bud...strong, like the cobweb among the bush that holds the water droplets and shine beautifully after the rain. I looked around and found many of my type, some lacked shine, some little rough for me and some too shiny. I was happy for my softness...proud of my elegance...and unaware that in this world there is always a price to pay...
I watched others, being taken away, transformed into beautiful cloths, waving me good bye...I wished them and waved them back. I waited for my turn...I was never envy of them because I believed that something better will happen to me. So, I waited very patiently for that ‘something’ to happen to me. At last, I was taken out...
They cut a small part of me and put me in boiling water and stirred ruthlessly. Shocked by the blistering heat, I forgot to cry for help. When I was taken out, it pained...I looked at myself still figuring out what the hell happened to me and found myself colored into gorgeous red!! I heard someone saying that I had become more attractive and valuable. I was a fine looking red silk scarf now! Really? I had a second look at myself; it was the color they wanted me to be in...Yes, I looked good...in fact, better. People would want me now...They would pay any price to have me...They would be wanting me because I will complete their attire and make it more beautiful...
I was kept by the glass window, wrapped around a lifeless female. It is called the art of luring away...make them believe that if I look good on this pseudo human, I will look better on them no matter how or what they look like! For some time, people passed looking at me...there were faces, admiring me, calculating my worth, some uninterested. I saw some of my fellows still hanging in the display. I didn’t know how to talk to them, so I never bothered them. And I was misunderstood to be arrogant. Each day they got replaced but I was still there...people came to me...
I thought they needed me. But it was the other way, I needed them. It was I who waited for someone to add meaning to me. Wrapped over a plastic mannequin was giving me no satisfaction! After all, I wasn’t made for it...there should have been something more...
And then she came, touched me gently, wrapped myself around her slender neck and looked at her image in the mirror. She flaunted her classy personality stylishly. It made me flaunt as well...I never thought I would look so good. We both needed each other to complete our purpose...the only difference was that her need was more or less a want. Without hesitating she bought me and took me with her. I was happy. I had just found myself a home...
Soon I realized, the best part when she walked wearing me was when the wind made me fly. I never imagined that I could fly. Till now I had only imagined being possessed and used whenever wanted. Fluttering in the wind turned out to be a relief from being tied. I flew joyfully and carelessly...and came to know a new world where I did not need to look in the mirror to prepare myself for the day but where flying was beauty...
It is in the nature of the wind to take along with it whatever it wants...make everything that comes in its way to fly in its direction. It was doing the same to me...One fine day, when nobody was watching, I flew...for the first time I flew freely...crazily!! The more swiftly I flew, the more eagerly the wind blew...
It seemed I was racing...against myself. I flew through cities, mountains, meadows...through summers and winters...It was like I can travel the whole world if the wind kept me moving...I had become the wind...In this ‘madness’ I didn’t realize that I was actually a piece of fabric, with limitations, cannot pass through the thorny tree that came in my way...I tumbled, tried to stop but couldn’t because of the wind...And got entwined between the branches...
I tried to fly even harder with the wind in order to free myself...but in this process I entangled myself even deeper and my fabric got bruised...it hurt. But the wind did not stop...I tried to rest but it still made me fly...The more I fly with it, the more it wounds me. I laugh and cry at the same time...Was I punished because I forgot to serve my owner and thought of exploring something that was beyond my periphery??
I still enjoy flying even if it hurts...it is better than drooping lifelessly. The wind provokes and teases me but I still wait for that ‘something’ to happen...I remember the day when I was made, fine, elegant, fragile, adorable...
Easily stainable and attackable!
