I had
noticed it then and I see them even now. They come in bright vibrant colors and
are the pride of many a lady’s hand. They are so delicate and fragile that if
one had to hold them a bit too hard they might break into a dozen pieces.
As a
child I would often see the bangle seller come knocking at our doors calling
out high and low to the women folk in our vicinity. He would proudly display
his ware of glass bangles, which came in different sizes and colors ranging
from crimson red to olive green. There were one too many to suit any number of
occasions.
My
hands were tiny then and the bangles would slip in with unnecessary ease and
would not sit pretty on my thin wrists. The next instance with the same
unnecessary ease they would slip off and land straight onto my lap.
Seeing
the look of disappointment flash on my face, the bangle seller would mutter
instant apologies; quickly tousle my hair and say, “Next time baby! You tell
your mother to feed you well so that you grow an inch taller and your hands
become fuller and filled up. Then I promise that I shall get for you the
daintiest and prettiest of bangles, with colors so vivid, that no lady till now
has ever seen and will be the envy of every little girl. With those soothing
words he would move on, promising to return with new wares next time.
Since
those were days of fun and frolic and with limited TV viewing options, we kids
had ample opportunity to indulge in outdoor activities
As my
friend and I stared at the broken pieces of bangles that were carelessly left
behind while trying out on too big wrists a germ of an idea slowly took shape
in our heads.
In the
next instance, I took the lead by carefully scooping the discarded bangle
pieces in my tiny palm. In a vigorous moment, with full gusto, the pieces were
thrashed to the ground, lying in complete disarray; some were sticking to each
other with exaggerated closeness, few had the curved arch of their backs
touching one another only too slimly while a stray one or two stood hauntingly
alone at the corners
So here
lied the genesis of discovering a game with the broken pieces of bangles.
Very
swiftly the player had to pull out each bangle piece, without disturbing the
others. In case any one of the pieces got disrupted from its original position
due to a wrong shift in movement, the turn would then get passed along to the
next player. The one who scores ahead clearing all the pieces right till the
end would be declared as the undisputed winner.
The hot
sun used to be smoldering at our backs and the crows would cackle loudly above
us. At times there would be an old passerby who would momentarily stop by to
peer at two little girls who with their heads bent down would stare with utmost
interest at broken pieces of bangles, strategizing their next move. With a
satisfying nod he would move along thinking, as long as the kids were not upto
some wild mischief like climbing trees, randomly ringing doorbells and running
away, this was peaceful; this was nice.
Once
the game was over, the pieces were carefully arranged and stored in an old tin
box.
So next
time the bangle seller would arrive in town, we kids would hurriedly run
towards him.
However,
this time the joy rested in collecting the throwaway broken pieces of bangles
from him rather than trying out new ones.
P.S.
Till date, the bangles don’t sit pretty on my outrageously slim wrists; and
given a choice I would still jump at the chance of playing with broken pieces
of bangles rather than flaunting them on my hands.
