Old Jeans – A Witness of Love (Part 01)

Posted: January 16, 2014 in NaBloPoMo
Tags: , , , ,

I had to throw the jeans. It has been old now, lost its color and torn at some places. Four years before, while buying this one, some people asked me, why to go for this same type of ash denim color but anyhow I managed to convince myself with the color and the softness of it. It fitted me very well and probably better than all other whatever I tried there. A branded piece is always durable than anything. From then till today morning I wore it, used it during rain, in the scorching summer season, took bathe in sea, trekked through ice, changed the color from its original to some rusty, dusty look, but still used it, wore it. I was in love with the jeans. People often laughed at me saying; probably you love this one more than your family, more than your own girlfriend too. I didn’t reply. That can’t be a matter of comparison. Family is always first preference, then it comes about profession, career and then girlfriend. I am also surprised to know about this certain characteristic of mine that I can’t stay with a single girlfriend for more than a year now. Anyway, I let people make joke about my jeans. Probably they never wore this one, so I feel pity for them. I can remember the cost of it too. It was two thousand and nine hundred bucks, bought from Ready-made center in Sodpur. As I am an average Indian heighted guy, so had to go for alteration of the length but as the original length was 40” and I needeed 39.5”, so I resisted tailor from doing any change of its original, took out the price tag as it may be a reason for eyebrow rising of my sweet mom. Mom too asked me about the color but commented, “Nice one”. I wore that, checked myself infront of a mirror and as always found myself the most handsome person I have ever seen throughout my life. I started loving it.

It was Puja time in Kolkata then and planned to try a Kurta along with this new one while going for Murti Darshan in the evening and felt proud while people, obviously friend commented, “Wow, Sougata, looking great yaar. Good dress up dear.” I replied with a smile and my chest size increased. There was a light fade mark at my thigh portion in the jeans, a little discomfort feeling it may look odd and people may consider a little bit loafers for that but in the darkest light during Puja evening of Kolkata made me comfortable, it was not that much visible but added a lot more personality to my own style. Anywhere, there is a mirror; I used to check myself how am I looking and every time I got one single answer, I am the most handsome person in the world. Funny side of mine is that, I am brand conscious but not conscious about my physique. I am lean, wear a spectacle, a styled rimless one and don’t do any caricature with the originality of my hair like my entire friend do. That day I came back in the night, took dinner with family and slept. I can sleep at any places, anywhere and without any problem, can sleep till morning. I don’t go bathroom during night and don’t feel any problem about the place but as it was my own bed with hard cushion and my own pillow that I am using since my childhood, I dreamt about my new jeans, the ash denim colored, 40” long, well stitched with black thick thread with a “W” marked in both the hip pockets. In dream also, I wore it whole night and when mom woke me up in the morning, the first thing I did was to check my jeans. It was hung from a hanger and there was a little dirt in the bottom portion. I rubbed it and after being able to satisfy myself with the cleanliness of it, I came down to take my breakfast along with family. It was Nabami and my friend made a plan to go for South Calcutta. I immediately agreed with them, I should say I had to agree because they all are my childhood friend and I can’t say no to them, they also don’t expect it from me. I wore the same jeans with a glossy black shirt. Mom pointed, “Why the same jeans? You have some other also. Go for something new every day when you have enough.” I gave an angry face to my mom. She can say anything but should not say anything about this one. I had to reply, “Am I looking bad in any way. Don’t I look smart in this new one?” she was not in a mood to leave the battlefield but anyhow said, “My son is the most handsome and smart in the world”. I gave smile, hugged her, kissed on her cheek and went out. My dress along with the glossy black shirt that my dad gave me that year and the ash denim colored jeans got appreciation again like most of the time. Again I continued checking myself infront of anything where I can see myself, whether it was a mirror or simply reflecting surface. The same thing happened that night also, I dreamt about the jeans, woke up in the morning and checked whether there is any mark of dust, clay etc in that and found a black spot at my hip portion. Some clayey patch it was, thought of crying but controlled myself, took some water in hand and tried to rub that but all my hard work went in vain; it was not that much visible but was permanent from then.


wish to hear for inspirations to continue further…


with lots of love




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