Red Tie

Today I have fallen. I lie ravaged and destroyed, in a folder marked 'evidence' on top her photos and some notes. Nothing much here to indicate the savagery of what has just happened.

However, let me begin at the beginning.

Some might say I was born fortunate. I was wrought from finest silks, dyed to a dazzling royal crimson, crafted by masters to a sleekness of shape and form which I carried in my youthful bearings with a royal insignia of my lineage. Life seemed full of promise as I hung, suspended from ebony hooks with a few of my brothers, awaiting my life to begin. I knew I was beautiful from the manner in which people paused before me, lightly caressed my form, held me at a distance and then against their chest in front of a tall mirror. I must say, I surpassed all their beauty and they could see it. Reluctantly, and with a parting touch, they left me. I watched, as one after another of my brothers left my side for their new homes. But I was not worried or lonely. I waited, assured that I could only grace the one whose beauty complemented mine to a dazzling perfection.

He was young, brilliant eyed, and perfect. And he paused before me. Even before he held me on him, we both knew that our destinies were tied. I went home to his wardrobe wrapped and ribbon-ed in gold. Ah .. that first night when we went out together. We were the center of attention of a glittering crowd - young beauties gravitated towards us , caressed me. He too sometimes paused in conversation, thoughtfully wrapping me around his fingers. We were one, he and I.

Those early days were happy. And yet like all intense relationships we burnt out. He turned to the novelties of new associations, and I was happy having my quiet evenings at home. I did observe that both his good looks and good taste suffered with time, without me.

Then one day, he started packing. I was excited. Maybe a trip abroad? New voices, language, music, air, smell, earth...maybe a trip to Espana that I had so enjoyed long back? Yes..he was putting that cream linen shirt also - my favorite. The bag closed - tightly packed. He seemed happy - I could hear him humming.

With this moment began the next phase of my life. I did not hear or see him after this - ever. What I had hoped was a trip together became a long and rattling journey to a never land. When the bag opened, I was surrounded by kids, women, old, clamoring, snatching, shouting in glee at the bag of goodies. They were all skin and bones, unkempt, raggedy. I had been discarded to the poor. I had no time to reflect, mourn.  In all the confusion, I was thrown aside - on the ground - soft, wet, grimy. People were after basic clothing and I was of little use in such a place. As I lay there cringing, to not be stomped on, a youthful hand reached out and picked me up. A dark, young hand which jingled with glass bangles; dark hair, dark eyes kohl rimmed and sad; dark face lit by a central red bottu. She was also painfully thin. As she stared at me, her eyes lit, her fingers caressed (ah.. it had been so long...).  Suddenly she let her thick, curly, long hair, come cascading down her back. She started braiding her hair, and me with it. I laughed out loud - what kind of new game was this? Did she know who I was? Yet, the feeling was not at all unpleasant...to be wound in, out and around strands of thick soft hair.

Thus began a new phase of my life. She was poor and had few possessions. I was a part of her treasury, along with her wedding saree, her thali, and a picture of Ganesha on the window sill. Her husband was a strappy youth - cocky, loud, swaggering. She loved him. I don't need to say that - the whole world could see it.

 I was with her, braided in, on most days. I liked this - especially on days when she wore 'malli'. She worked in and out from morning to late night, as a household help in colonies outside where we dwelt, and then at night over the steaming pot of rice and curry - occasionally a meen curry.

Yesterday there was a row. Her husband came home drunk - as he sometimes did - and she had had an  extra rough day. I was not concerned - tried to block out the sound and sleep. Suddenly the screaming reached a high pitch. Oh no! He was beating her. And what was that? He was shouting that he was sick of an old hag like her .. her? a hag?? Wait..there was more. Gulabi Bai knew how to please him much better. What?? ThaT Gulabi Bai - everyone spat on her - that ruiner of households with her gold studs and red lips. Her?? He liked Her?? Then he rushed out - promising never to return. Good, I said..now we can get some quiet and rest -she didn't need him. Why was she sobbing like that? Even I was getting impatient. Oh shut up!
He was bound to return at least for her meen curry. Don't understand women making such fools of themselves.

I must have dozed off . Why was she now reaching for me - I was curled comfortably by the Ganesha. Are we going out? In the middle of the night??!! Oh no..she shouldn't make a fool of herself. Why was she now tying me around her neck? Me a necklace? This was no playtime ...maybe tomorrow.  Hey..something strange was definitely going on. She was pulling a stool and throwing my other end across the beam and tying a knot. Oh My Ganesha...she had kicked off the stool. Unbearable weight. I couldn't take it - my body was getting torn by her flailing shuddering frame...Please stop! Get off! I screamed out loud, high, in pain of flesh and heart. But, no one came.

People found us the next morning. She was quiet - gone. I had stayed hung from the beam all night - carrying her. What else could I do?

Heard some talk here - her husband was absconding.Wasn't really the poor bugger's fault. Maybe only their poverty should stand accused and on trial? Along with the richness of the rich that created me - a Red Tie.
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