The Story of My Trouser

When I handed it over to the boy and told him to cut a piece towards the buttom half so that we can use it for cleaning the pelmets of my newly allotted quarter, I got a mild jerk. It was rather a series of flashbacks. The cutting was little uneven. The jigsaw has hit me by then. Seeing the disturbance, the boy offered in a lighter vein, " Sir, I am doing it such that you cannot use it again, it is a gone case now".

But I decided to keep the upper portion back into the trolley bag like its pervious avatar. It was pretty clean, well folded but slightly torn. I thought I could still use it in bed room. It has been used, abused and misused so much that it has became a part of my fundamental possession. It has sustained my bohemian nature, shifting of cities, career progression, and over and above, it has sustained Me. I have disposed of my Vanivihar-HCU Diary, the Women in Love, the bedsheet that I had been using since Class X (1994) till 15th August 2004, the eye-opener road rage. But I have kept this as my most essential baggage. It has been a symbol of my struggle for some identity (izzat) in society, my metamorphosis from a real asshole to Ashu.

It has been a mute spectator to many ups and downs, twists and turns at personal level. It was purchased from the paltry salary I used to get as a struggling jurno in Hyderabad days. When I touch it today, I still get a mixed aroma of irani chai, Fine buiscuit and TOI-Hyderabad. The portion where it looks like the real India (read the torn part of thigh region) triggers my past bonding with RTC buses.

What can be the better option than this to use it for cleaning the quarter where I am going to start my family with my 'Trophie' wife ? The upper-half may be treasured to be served on a better day !!

This was probably the last remnant of the Making of Ashutosh after the most cherished rejaei was left to its fate while shifting from Mumbai. Later, the rejai, as revealed by its new care-taker, has been a proud healer of my erstwhile room mate who had been a victim of Mumbai's 26/11. The guilt in me to part with its warmth quickly subsided knowing its famous turnaround in the later stage.

Sometimes, I try to figure out all these strange inanimate equations in forlorn. They give me an understanding of unconditional love that we fail to foresee in our life. My Trophie differs me on this. She gives instance from her surrounding and I don't disagree. But I can foresee her desire to come back when she repeats that she actually doesn't.

But my love story doesn't propel me to come back.

(Tail Piece : I love the story of My Trouser. Eccentric brand, grey colour, 28 waist, 40 length, purchased for around Rs 280 from the Hyper Market in Mushirdabad in Hyderabad way back in 2003 and kept alive till today.)