 |
| Pic from Pixabay |
It was called "vanity bag" by the elder women in the family and my social circle.
Usually the only one hung carefully inside the almirah, or kept on the dressing table.
Replaced only when worn out.
I was fascinated by these.
My aunt in Dibrugarh, a three and a half hour drive in an Ambassador from Digboi ( with my father behind the wheel. Some made it in two), owned three. What was more exciting was that we never discarded the old ones. They hung from an old hat stand that had never seen hats.
I would collect a couple of these old hand bags, gladly given by my aunt, as it served as a gift as well, and come home, feeling rich and stylish.
Every day, after school, the hand me down bags would help me decide where my imagination would take me.
Sometimes, I was a teacher in school.
I would unclasp my handbag with a serious expression, and lay out an assortment of old pens and pencils on the desk at home- pretending to correct make believe answer papers.
Some days saw me dressed in my mother's saree, hand bag slung casually over a shoulder, walking into an imaginary party.
Only for me, nothing was imaginary.
It was real.
It was what made me laugh, play, live every day with joy and happiness.
The first hand bag I carried with me was to the school class ten farewell. We all wore sarees.
Mum looked teary eyed and gave me her old hand bag ( it was still not worn out- she had received the new one as a gift from her friend), to go with the "grown up" look. I will never forget that day. Finally, I was carrying a hand bag outside of home.
This was followed the "purchase".
College. Gearing up with a few new clothes and yes, my very first hand bag.
Mum still called it "vanity bag".
It was brown, with a long sling. Faux leather. Many zips and compartments. Function overriding style by miles.
But it was the most beautiful thing I could own.
The hand bag gave me confidence.
Made me feel independent.
Beautiful, even.
Time flew by.
Academics, followed by my first job.
Marriage.
New cities.
More cities. New homes.
My love for hand bags continued.
I would look at the three or four different ones, usually for different occasions, with pride.
Today, I still love my hand bag.
But it jostles for space with new players.
My laptop bag.
My lunch bag.
My overnighter when I travel.
My knapsack for casual outings.
It lives with the threat of being redundant.
The knapsack and the latest laptop bags double up as hand bags with ease.
I could talk to my hand bag, here's what I would say.
You complete me.
I start my day with you and end with taking out my reading glasses from you.
You make me feel like a woman.
For me, you will never go out of style.
