Autobigraphy of a purple rakhi

I was born in the factory specialized in making Rakhis; packed among my likes. In all assorted colors.
I was unpacked in a shop on the busy streets of Janpath. I was priced Rs 25/- for the zardausi border and silk threads. Three of us together cost little less. A dozen, even lesser.

I was picked by a lady of petite figure, sharp eyes, small nose and uneven teeth. She picked me for her fascination of color purple. I learnt it later while lying on her shelf, overhearing her conversations.
“I love purple. A king’s pride, a women’s sensual add-on and a flowers fragileness.” she muttered. Lying next to me, a book titled “When I am old, I shall wear purple”. Quite a long name I thought, but it had a portion of me. The purple connection. Also, a black fossil watch that she kept by my side every night after she was back home. We three became quite good friends.

Watch telling us stories every night of his day-adventure. I often confided in the book, to seek some warmth, Quite literally at times.

Watch was the most intelligent among us, I asked him when is Rakhi. “two more days to go, buddy, then you will leave us for decorating her brother’s hand” He said. We sighed.

In our world we never knew what brothers and sisters are. We are pieces. Together in a box. We have a price, a color and some decorations. We live a simple life , I thought. I had seen her repeating her day. Picking up the watch and putting it back. A countless similar things, which she repeats in between.
Book told me , many humans spend thier entire life in search of a purpose. Me and watch laughed our hearts aloud. “Purpose” for us was something which gave us birth. I am born to be tied on a wrist, with love, for protection. My friend, watch, tells time and few itsy-bitsy stuff. It was unimaginable thing for us that humans are born just like that , spend thier entire life doing the same thing everyday and they live a huge life finding the same “Purpose”.
“How Lame” the watch said, something he heard during his day outings on her wrist.

Book has poems written on various stages of a woman’s life and that confused me even more. Humans define so many relations in their life and they all spend all their energy to live that pre-defined relation. She will tie me to the man who is born to her mother, she cannot tie me to the man she will marry. For us, things are much simpler. We are all buddies. Me with Book. Book with watch. Me with other pieces. We dont have any pre defined norms to live by, no one tells us how we have to behave with someone just becuase the other person makes a certain relationship with us. I am free. I decide how I want to behave.

Came the fateful day. A new guy, round shaped face and a parrot nose was sitting on the bean bag lying next to the shelf. She tied me on his wrist, touched his feet and sweets were exchanged. Book told me this guy is now liable to protect her, as a brother. He comes once every year, this day. I wan’t sure how will he protect the woman staying alone, working round the clock, sleeping tired every night.

We know her enough to know how lonely she is. Book relaxed her many tired moments. Watch helped her counting the moments. I helped her in moments of living expectations.

I will be with her brother, henceforth. Only to be replaced next year, with another purple rakhi.


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