Toilet paper
I was sold in some shop in India. I know that I am not ubiquitous in Indian households but someone, may be suffering from the dearth of water in his flat or may be not acquainted with the Indian ways of accomplishing the thing, purchased me. Now I am his washroom (may be latrine will better serve my purpose) essentials.
I am serving him in the way my relatives serve in other nation. He does all scruffy stuff with me but as I am on duty and so have to endure all aggravations silently. I have to keep up with the expectations associated to me.
I am obliged to fulfill the desires of my boss, his family, friends and friends of friends too who occasionally turn up at his place just in search of some bang and end up there after booze.
.
.
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I never wanted to be what I am but the anticipations of my family, my friends, who themselves are toilet papers nabbed me every time I tried to escape. I didn’t try hard either.
Actually I am living with a fixed code of conduct. I have to keep up to the expectation of every acquaintance.
Some want to see me like a good service personal…
Some want to see me happy whatever be the miss happenings I am subjected to…
Some want to flaunt me as if I am a shining star which belongs to them…
And I am expected to reciprocate in accord.
But nobody wants me to be me…
It has been a long-long night…and a couple of hours back it seemed eternal…
But may be, I have discovered myself…I have surfaced on a new horizon…here I am with myself…
Reflections have taught me suffice to know that all I need is I and all I long for is my star…
May be, I can be at least a stamp if not a dollar!!