Guest post by Sushmita Sengupta
Look
at her. Isn’t she just endearing? That child-like innocence on her face, as she
finally tucks herself to sleep.
Nights.
I love nights, peaceful, calm. Far from the gaze and judgement of the world,
she in the room of her own, I resting in my closet. It almost seems as if we
have earned this calm, after battling it out on the streets of Delhi in this
scorching weather of July!
Which, by the way, make me miss ‘winters’ so dearly, how I sat and rested in my ‘bra-vacation’,
while she happily strutted around in her sweat-shirt. Now don’t take me for a
lazy bum, who just wants to relax and curl up in the wardrobe. My heart
flutters with pride when she picks me over her very expensive Marks and Spencer’s or the Louis
Vuitton exclusive lingerie. They maybe her prized possessions. But deep
down, she loves this regular black cotton-bra from the Meher
Chand Ahluwaliya’s shop at I.N.A Market. Not as pretty as those, but
comfortable and compatible---
---But,
but, but, before I take full pride in
this fact- the ‘society’ will leave no stones unturned in establishing that I
am no more than that ‘known secret’, which everybody is aware of but shies away
from acknowledging.
Yes! Brace yourself for a one-of-a-kind rant,
for fabrics have feelings too you know!
So,
“Dear Diary”,
---It
is becoming a common occurrence now. But what do I do, I’m getting old, the
regular machine washes have withered me, and God knows how many times she has rubbed that blue monstrous soap on me, over and over! It has become tough
sticking to ‘the place’, therefore today, while travelling in the bus, I SLID DOWN! For no fault of my own (or hers), I ‘crossed the line’… and the
ostracisation that followed, Uff! It is beyond me to recount.
OH!
The lechers, the aunties, and the uncles, they were all at me! As if I was some
fugitive on the run! She was embarrassed/humiliated enough by the stares and
taunts to pull me back in. A certain anxiety crept within her, as she shoved me
back ‘at my place’, to ensure I don’t
peep out again while I tried my best to stick there.
The ‘sister-strap’
on the other end made things miserable, she kept shouting at me all the way
back home, for the unceremonious slippage- Did I
introduce you to my ‘sister-strap’, who most diligently
holds the right breast intact? She has done so forever, without fail, you know.
Quite a merit-holder at the task! Never has she slipped once.
Anyhow, after the never-ending day that it
was, I came back to the closet. As if things were not worse in itself, I
encountered the ‘strapless-bra’ mocking me in front of the entire wardrobe.
That bitch, I tell you! Teasing is all she knows. In the
midst of the humiliation, bullying and laughter- I found solace in the sympathetic
eyes of the maroon underwear (which popped out of the low waist-jeans a week
back), and in the far end of the closet, the red crop-top that slid a few more
inches above the permissible limits last month, and has been lying in that
corner, ever since it was suspended from wearing, ‘You are not wearing this handkerchief of a top ever. They were all
staring you. All of them’-I heard her mother reprimand her.
Only those two understand what I was
subjected to, and tried to comfort me through their eyes . But… that just wasn’t
enough!
Now,what is the problem of People, eh? I am
not worn by them! If anybody should have a ‘problem’, it is the person who is
wearing me, with whom I must say, I have successfully established a Love-Hate
relationship. I have already spoken about her ‘preferring’ to pick me, but it
is also saddening to see when she has to pick me (or any of my other bra-buddies) almost against her will,
Like the other day when she had to go ten steps from home to recharge her
phone- Just when she was stepping out, she had an eye contact with her sister,
and quickly retired to her room, hastily pulled me out and wore me-she didn’t
seem too happy about it.
SOOOOO… I gather, that I am pretty important,
in a way. (More important to the ‘society’ than her, I suppose). I MUST be
worn at all times- Yet when I slip out of the top’s contours, all hell breaks
loose! Umm... Is it not what the humans call ‘Hypocrisy’?
I mean, just give her a break! Go find a job may
be, or if not! Let me do mine, which is to hold and protect the sensitive
breast area together, and prevent them from sagging. At least that’s ALL that I
know. But over the years, I seem to be entrusted with a much greater
responsibility! Aaaaand I am just not ready for it. Okay! Seriously now. Just
GIVE US A BREAK!
I
wonder at times what is so great a deal about the inflated piece of mass that
I am supposed to be guarding. But I have come to realise it's huge and way too
over-hyped, if you come to think of it! No?
-------------
About Sushmita Sengupta
Sushmita is pursuing Masters in English from Delhi University. She loves to read and write. Happens to be way cooler in her head than in real, consistently working to bridge the gap with her pen. She expects fellow humans to help her in her endeavor with value-criticism.
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