The kids succeeded. They got me, next thing, very predictable, they were fighting over my ownership. I was happy as I felt important, I still held some value to someone. After an hour of clash, they arrived at a consensus. They could not keep me for their use , not because of ignorance of technical know how or lack of intelligence but for the simple reason that they were children of the lesser God. They had never experienced the goodies electricity brought with its advent , not in a country with 1.7Lakh MW installed capacity. They decided to trade it for Rs 50 with Lakhu Bhai baniya and successfully got the hefty amount they had thought of. They were happy and planned for a feast for night at Salim's The local Dhaba. Here , I could see the sparkling eyes of Lakhu bhai who had already started dreaming of probable gains of my sale to some prospective customer.
He cleaned me, polished my surface which was rubbed and somewhat deteriorated while my 2 days stay at the heap. I also bore a scratch to my right, a reminder of the kids' fight. Now I have been brought to a dark and scary place. There are all strangers. All the time I tried mustering up enough courage to talk to them. They were haughty, square faced , not at all friendly. The night rolled over and I was lost into dreams, Meerut, the old Sandy , new gas with 4-burners, power cuts & Mrs Banker.
The door creaked and Lakhu entered, he took me upstairs where a young lady in early twenties, wearing a red saree was waiting. As soon as she got sight of me, I could see , she was impressed , she desired me. She did some calculations and uttered a figure , Rs 150. Lakhu bhai negotiated and the lady won me for Rs200.
I made way to my journey ahead, to my new destination. My new residence is a 1 BHK rented apartment at outskirts of Noida. The furniture, the appliances say the owner is not very rich. I am one of their prized possessions. I am again into a kitchen, the new owner loves me more than earlier one.
But this time , I am neither happy nor sad. I never miss my old Mrs Banker, the kids, Meerut. I have forgotten how I was disowned and never sought after. It was my greatest folly , I personified myself when I was only a material object.
Signing off..
Urs ( Mrs Banker)
Tally.... !!!!!!
He cleaned me, polished my surface which was rubbed and somewhat deteriorated while my 2 days stay at the heap. I also bore a scratch to my right, a reminder of the kids' fight. Now I have been brought to a dark and scary place. There are all strangers. All the time I tried mustering up enough courage to talk to them. They were haughty, square faced , not at all friendly. The night rolled over and I was lost into dreams, Meerut, the old Sandy , new gas with 4-burners, power cuts & Mrs Banker.
The door creaked and Lakhu entered, he took me upstairs where a young lady in early twenties, wearing a red saree was waiting. As soon as she got sight of me, I could see , she was impressed , she desired me. She did some calculations and uttered a figure , Rs 150. Lakhu bhai negotiated and the lady won me for Rs200.
I made way to my journey ahead, to my new destination. My new residence is a 1 BHK rented apartment at outskirts of Noida. The furniture, the appliances say the owner is not very rich. I am one of their prized possessions. I am again into a kitchen, the new owner loves me more than earlier one.
But this time , I am neither happy nor sad. I never miss my old Mrs Banker, the kids, Meerut. I have forgotten how I was disowned and never sought after. It was my greatest folly , I personified myself when I was only a material object.
Signing off..
Urs ( Mrs Banker)
Tally.... !!!!!!
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