Life is always happy for those who think, happiness makes us live. One such person lives very close to me. She is the one who sleeps with me. I’m happy, for I tickle her, make her feel happy and when my hair in the fan’s speed gets off from its position and settles on her face. She would scratch her face and sometimes wake up at night and make me lie away from her and continue her sleep. I’m an addict to sleep and I lie where I lie, without even moving my limbs. No one except me knew when she was happy, sad, had unbearable pain and when she had an infatuation… Even though, I couldn’t tell of her infatuation, talk her out of it, I was feeling hard for her. If only I had a mouth, I don’t know if I had a good sixth sense, but, I could have told her it wasn’t love.
I lie close to her at night. Certain days, she would kick me out of pain. She shared many things with me. She used to murmur, and shout “it’s paining” and “I couldn’t bear it” stuffs. I used to worry for her. After every little thing that happens, like, her first love letter, b’day greeting from a boy which she thought to be a proposal, the sympathy she had on the boy. Then on, she talked to bys, better than ever. She couldn’t tell all this to her papa and mamma. It is true that girls and boys have many secrets to their parents. Many a time, when the line ‘thaayodum sila thayakkangal…’(secrets exists, even to a mom, but never to a friend) I’d get tears of joy, but I never show it off. I was a girl’s closest friend in the world, closer tan her mommy.
She’d throw me when she was upset and later she tells me what happened. Once her friends were all getting very costly dresses for some function and her parents couldn’t afford such high priced dresses. She came in to the room, shutting the door as fast as possible as she could, hugged me and cried to me. After a lot of invaluable tears wasted, she wiped and told boldly, “why should I cry? I’ll not” But tears were rolling down her cheeks. I’d have cried if I had tear glands.
But, all this happiness had just started a few days back. I’m a big soft toy given to malathy, simi’s mom on her 19th b’day by her friends. I was inside the safety chest that held beautifully designed clocks, sacred lamps that were never lit on any occasion. Bondage, the worst thing anything on earth could suffer; couldn’t suffer. Along with me were many not so cheap things. Our bondage was not behind bars; not for freedom. It was because, we were non-living , very costly things. Even now, I’m free, and am with my closest friend. But, my friends, when I was in bondage are still there without a single chance of improvement. What about them??? But, this is the case with many living things too. Simi has also told me about many such cases where men and especially women are hit and made slaves for some people’s welfare. But, is bondage better than slavery? Lucky, I weren’t living.
