A S-S-S-S-Story.
(A small sweet sad savage story)
There was a small son named Amol. Amol belonged to his mother, a mother who spoiled him rotten without quite meaning to. She spoiled him through her need of him. She was a beautiful young widow and her husband had left her enough money for the two to live comfortably. So she stayed home and looked after him and her wants the best she could within the structure of a society that frowns upon the living sexuality of women and regards incest as a taboo.
Amol was only three, but already the citizen of a capitalistic and consumerist culture. He saw himself through his possessions. He possessed his mother for he was sub-consciously aware of the power he could wield over her. When he wanted something she tried her best to get it for him. When she denied him something he had asked for, he would first cry or sulk and she occasionally relented at this stage. It was a game between them. Only rarely would she continue to refuse him even when he grew angry. Finally he would threaten to go away, as far away from her as possible, and she couldn't bear that. She wasn't able to stand even the idea of him leaving her and she would succumb to his every demand when faced with this ultimatum. Sometimes he would actually toddle off into the garden and at times reach as far as the fence. But just before he could reach the gate she would run after him, hold him close to her and cajole him with the very thing that she had been admonishing him about.
Amol knew the limits to which this game could go. He would threaten to walk out only for very rare things. Among these was the sepia silk soft security sheet that he had. He was entirely enamoured of it from the very first moment he laid his eyes on it. This had happened when his aunt had come to their house with their first-born in her arms, swathed in the self-same soft silk sepia sheet. On that occasion he had thrown such a tantrum that his mother had become really angry with him for wanting and wailing for someone else's possession. That day he had even touched the gate and pushed it open a little. But meanwhile his mother had offered the aunt a bright red satin smooth shawl in exchange. With the barter accomplished she caught Amol in the nick of time, just as he was about to step out into the street. For the first time she gave in to his demand with ill grace. This made Amol treasure his hard-won prize all the more.
Since that day Amol had never let the sepia silken soft security sheet out of his sight even for an instant. When he went to sleep he was shrouded in this soft sepia sheet, when he bathed it hung next to his towel, when he played he and his toys were placed on the soft sheet, and when he ate it was tucked into his front collar. They were inseparable he and the sepia soft silk sheet. He cherished this possession as nothing before.
Actually, the soft silk sepia sheet had a life of its own. It was full of magic and had mysterious powers. It could establish a bond with a person, a bond of symbiotic codependence that ran so deep that no one could fathom it. Amol could not understand why he simply had to have the sepia sheet around him all the time, but he just had to and as with almost all other things he had his way. His mother was also not a little jealous of the soft sepia sheet and at the same time she found it absurd to feel envious of a mere piece of silk. She tried her best to separate the sheet from him whenever she could, but her insistence only made him the more adamant.
Then one day, Amol's fourth birthday to be exact, he got a lot of gifts, brand new brightly coloured toys. Amol's mother was irritated by his attachment to the sheet of sepia silk. She found it embarrassing to always have to carry the rather dull-looking sepia soft object of his affection around with them wherever they went. Whenever she saw Amol absorbed with one of his new toys, she tried to sneak the silk sepia sheet away. But Amol would notice its absence within moments, and her attempts to wean him off the soft silk sheet remained futile. Amol's being craved for the security of the silk soft sepia sheet as an almost incurable addiction.
One morning he was scampering after an orange ball, one of his new prized presents, when he caught his foot in the soft sepia silk sheet and had a fall. His head hurt, and he hated the sepia sheet. He vented all his anger on it. He beat it, kicked it and flung it aside. He picked up the orange ball and resolved to transfer unto it all his attachment for the sepia silk. But the sepia sheet of soft silk had a hidden hold over him that he could not shake off, and soon he became uncomfortable without it. He left the orange ball aside and went to the soft sheet. He hugged it. He kissed it. He cried with remorse and he thought the tears were atonement enough for the sin of ill treatment. He then wrapped himself in its secure comfort and fell into a soothing slumber.
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