The final rub being given, I stood shining and bright and ooh!!! I felt grand. I am a silver ladle. As I looked into the box where I was being placed, I saw a matching bowl. It smiled widely at me. “We are a pair”, it said, and I smiled happily. Thus our journey started….
As we were carried off, we entered a house, it seemed, where some festivity was going on. Soon we landed on someone’s hands, and it seemed to tremble. As the box was opened, the bowl and I looked around. There were “oohs” and “aahs” and “wows” as we were admired. I settled in comfortably.
“I hope she likes it,” said a voice. It was then that I realised that I was a gift. “Of course Dida, [grandma]”, came a chorus. As I rested for a day or two, I wondered who I was going to. Well, not for very long, as I got carried again and now the same trembling hands passed me onto a young soft hand.
“This is my gift to you on your wedding,” said Dida. I realised it was her granddaughter-in-law. With folded hands I got accepted along with my partner. Later on, as the box was opened again, I got the first look at my owner. There was appreciation, respect and love in those eyes. “Look,” she said shyly to her husband, “this is perhaps the most precious gift I have received.” Happily she stroked my partner and me with her soft hands. I decided to call her “my lady”.
We were brought out on special occasions to serve the famous ‘payesh’(rice pudding). It was always the same pure white sweet dish that nestled in the bowl and I drew a certain quantity from it to serve every plate. From weddings to baby showers to religious festivals, birthdays — we were ever-present.
While crockery and cutlery kept changing, we were the constant. My lady washed and cleaned and stored us personally. The gentle touch of those beloved hands always left us contended. When it was a long time before we were out again serving, we yearned for her touch. And that she did. Just to see, feel and caress us, my lady took us out of our box.
With time, our young lady put in years and the ever so-gentle soft hands turned harder, though the care with which she handled us remained the same. Suddenly one day, we found us being taken out while warm tears drenched us. Curious and scared, we looked around. There was no one. And we heard a whisper “Will miss you Dida….”. To our shock we realised and a pang of pain crossed us. We seemed to shine a little less. This time when we served, it was a sombre occasion. Life we said….
Days, years flew by and we continued as usual. Until one day. We were out of our box and my lady was examining us carefully. There were wrinkles around her eyes now and more salt in her hair. She had even taken on glasses. “Hmmm….”, she said, “you both need a polish and then you will be perfect for her”.
It was a bittersweet moment for us. We realised that we were about to have a new home. On yet another festive day, our lady looked at us with love so great that I thought I would burst. “Time to go to a new home”, she said, smiling through tears and she stroked us both for one last time.
As we waited, my lady, now with hands that trembled due to age, placed us on yet another young hand. “I received this as a wedding gift, and now I pass it on to you.” We were received with awe and reverence. When the box was opened and we were seen in all glory, in a gush the new bride said, “They are beautiful and priceless. Thank you for believing in me Dida.” Immediately we liked our “new” lady.
Time flew by and we were out again. To our joy we heard crooning and baby gurgles. As we were taken out of our box, we saw the cherub. Her eyes shone on us as we had attracted her attention. “Yes, yes, these will be yours one day. Handle them with care”, said our new lady.
And thus we turned into the family heirloom ….
Mamata Bandyopadhyay is a homemaker based in Dubai.
