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Wednesday, August 8, 2018

AN OUT OF THE BOX NARRATIVE




'E' is for enjoying  the simplest pleasures of life:

Strange that a small and simple object could take you down the memory lane and fill you up with nostalgia so effusive that it starts simmering in the psychic recess and waits for the time when it would be articulated. The urge to bring it into focus was intensely triggered when I saw it sitting snugly in the bathroom in the familiar company of a bucket, a low stool, and a bath mug. There and then, I decided to let it tell its own story. Instantly an insignificant thing transformed itself into a raconteur of sorts.

Dear readers don’t  feel shocked to know who I’m. I’m in fact a SMALL PLASTIC TUB cherished by the family for more than forty years till date. It all began long back when a young married couple was blessed with a sweet baby boy. Their first-born was special and deserved the best. Happily, they purchased all the baby stuff from baby soap to baby oil to baby powder (all Johnson and Johnson products) along with colorfully designed baby towels. They bought something else also. They bought Me. I’s a carrot-colored cute looking mini bath tub. 
Google image


 Things settled down slowly in the household and a routine took shape.   I’d wait for the baby’s mom to come home from work and give a bath to the baby.  As soon as she would come, the first thing she would do was to prepare for the baby’s bath. The housemaid who took care of the baby in mom’s absence knew exactly what to do. She would bring me from the bathroom along with other supplies to the sunny verandah where the grand ritual used to take place. A wok filled with warm water (heated by the maid in advance) was waiting for the purpose. First, the baby would be given a soft oil massage, which he enjoyed immensely and responded merrily to the gentle rubbing of his tiny frame.

After I was wiped out extra clean from inside, the lady would place me in the middle of the sunny verandah and fill less than half of me with the tepid water. In the meantime, the baby would be placed in my lap supported by the mother’s arm around his neck. OMG, how happy the baby would become instantly. He’d play and splash water with his hands, while charmingly opening and closing his eyes as the tiny droplets entered into his eyes. The mom’d tenderly watch the baby indulging in that playful exercise. The pride of being the mother of this lively and energetic child enlivened her face. I’s privy to this interesting sentimental drama played day after day. And I loved it.

The bath used to be performed meticulously in the midst of an animated prattle between mother and son and answered with chuckles and more splashes. Finally, the baby was picked wrapped in a towel and was transported to the bedroom, where a fresh looking dress placed on the bed eagerly awaited the baby’s arrival. Grooming done, the child would get the milk bottle - pre-prepared and standing on the side table- propped comfortably on the mother’s lap. Soon he would be so sleepy that only some gentle shaking would make him finish the milk. He‘d go to sleep under a baby mosquito netting uninterrupted for a couple of hours.

Again, I’d be cleaned and wiped dry and allowed to rest in a safe corner of the large bathroom until the next day.

As the baby grew bigger, I’s permanently made to rest, up in the attic. I’s dismayed. It was like a fall from the sublime to being a nobody.

To my good luck, a few years back the lady suddenly remembered me. A wooden ladder was brought in to reach the low ceilinged attic. She entered the attic in a sitting position (her light frame had an advantage in such tasks). She was overjoyed to find me as I was, only a bit dusty.

I’s brought out and after a few days transported to their flat in the hills. Here the bathroom is small and I fit very well in the limited space. She soaks her light laundry in me while adjusting herself to the new style of washing. I’m in the limelight again. Her long-standing association with me has survived the test of time. I’m still supple and strong enough to last, I don’t know for how many years more.
……
Friends it is a tribute to my comrade, this adorable tub for serving me so faithfully and becoming a part of life again. It is a testimony to the concept that small things can provide so much joy.

Friends welcome here as always! 

Linking to:

ABC Wednesday

9 comments:

  1. I love your story. Your narrator told a great tale of love.

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  2. Great story… and wonderful memories too… those are the "little" things in life which have the "great" effect..

    Have a splendid, ♥-warming ABC-Wednes-day / -week
    ♫ M e l d y ♪ (ABC-W-team)
    http://melodymusic.nl/23-E

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  3. Such a sweet post. Old things do give a lot of joy! Happy ABCW!

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  4. So many memories associated with things!
    We must learn to enjoy and be grateful for such objects and experiences :)

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  5. For the longest time, my yellow kindergarten rug was a treasure

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  6. The autobiography of a bath tub, very nice to go through this post.

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  7. This comment has been removed by the author.

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  8. In the fast paced world old things are replaced by new, but we shouldn’t forget there are certain things keeps triggering the memories and sweetness attached to it only when do exist. Sweet notes from your memories of your cute son… you narrative though the tub brings images related to the scene and it remind my cousins whom I have seen how they enjoy splash bathing in a tub of water.

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