The Electric Chair

Some people carry a lot of baggage, it is said. In some cases this is literally so. And I am never reminded about this fact more strongly than when I meet G.

I still remember that day more than a year ago when the new bag was proudly displayed to me. “For eight fifty bucks only. I’ll get one for you if you want me to.” I responded with appropriate awe while G showed me the salient features of his bag. It was an off-white, trendy, laptop bag. You could hold it like a handbag, or you could sling it over your shoulder, or you could even sling it over both shoulders, like a schoolbag. G was mighty pleased with it, and put on display the various compartments so thoughtfully yet simply ensembled that I could not but help pay silent homage to the designer of this magical bag.

Of course, this new bag meant farewell to its predecessor and I am sure it was a tearful farewell on G’s part. In my mind’s eye, I imagine G and his bag together for the last time. G removing stuff from his bag. Sorting out stuff which will be destroyed, stuff which will be transferred to his new bag and stuff which will be put elsewhere. A last tender touch. Straightening out the creases. Gently folding it. Mumbling half to himself and half to the bag “Acha, bag… tumne bahut acha kaam kiya hai hamaare liye… bahut acha service diye ho… abhi tum aaram karo.” And with that the bag was tenderly put into one of the lower shelves of his cupboard. He wiped away a tear as he remembered the sentimental moments he had with his bag.. how he had carried it to A’s wedding.. how he had carried it to R’s house in which he had carried home-made sweets for R… But hey! He had a new bag!

And so, like Mary’s little lamb, wherever that G went, the bag was sure to go. Now G used to carry his laptop plus assorted stuff in this bag. But then G got a desktop, yet the bag remained with him. It was a topic of great interest and amusement to all his friends as to what the fuck did G carry in his bag. And G knew the extreme sense of exasperation this caused in his friends, and so he obliged by displaying slowly and deliberately the contents of his bag.

Opening the main compartment – “Oh these are just some papers and some office stuff here…” and then a sheepish grin as he wordlessly shows a packet of parle biscuits. (here I will not go into how the spectators of this deliciously weird striptease react to each revelation – these are on predictable lines like “Oh fuck! Biscuits?!!!” or “G, you are mad!”) “Here are a few floppies/CDs” (maybe a porn CD, if he is doing a good deed by carrying it to give it to someone). The shirt is off now. Start with the pants. Opening another compartment of the bag “Medicines” he says with childish glee, while he shows you half a strip of Digene or Anacin. Probably a book of some sort which both G and the spectators dismiss as uninteresting stuff. The pants are down now. Start with the bikini.

Opens some ultra small compartment in the bag. A cellotape! Another teensy compartment. A very small stapler (but it works!) And now the panties are coming off.. take a deep breath.. A full pack of stapler pins!!! At this point most of the spectators swoon and lose consciousness.

G – I gotta tell you this. This would have been much less weird if you were a girl. Slightly odd to carry such a huge purse, but then it would just be a question of “how much” rather than “what?!!?!”

Nonetheless, I wouldn’t have it any other way. Your bag has everything. It truly is a ‘jaadu ka pitara’ – you just have to make a wish and put your hand in the bag and lo behold! Whatever you wished for will be in your hands There are times when I feel closer to your bag than I do to you, G. If and when you buy a new bag, please do call me… to see off your current one.

# posted by A Chrysanthemum by any other name... : 3:43 AM