Being an irregular regular at the park, I had established a pattern. Leave bag on stand, finish with track, pick up bag, stretch, stumble home. And every irregular regular day the guard reminded me ‘Madam, leave bag, your risk’.
One day, dazed with a run that was too fast and too long, I picked up my bag and scrounged around for my bottle. Unfortunately, instead of my blue faded one, I picked up a very crisp and clean bottle and an even cleaner sweatshirt. Realizing my mistake, I attempted to fake limbering down by jumping up and down and flaying my arms about. In what must have looked like a terrible circus act, I then dropped the wrong bag back as inconspicuously as a dancing bear in a china shop.
Finally walking back with my own muddied bag and bitten, scratched, faded bottle I found myself actually offended by the owner of that bag. He seemed like one of those purposeful runners, with their music plugged ears, that never panted. This got me worried, very worried. Considering I didn't carry my wallet, or cellphone, what would a total stranger make of me based on the contents of my haversack?
I began to sketch.
In my bag I found a sweater, Crocin, mints, homeopathic medicine, some change in coins, swimming cap still in packaging, swimming goggles, sweater, blue and green water bottle, stuffed miniature tortoise, payals.
Sitting there undoing the contents of my bag, I felt like I was one of those agents in CSI. Trying to be as objective as possible, I dissected and analyzed. I concluded that the mints and Crocin seemed normal. (Of course later on they would be broken down to test for arsenic, cyanide and cocaine while I wore goggles, a white coat and spoke short, terse sentences).The sweater with grass and sweat stains reflected questionable hygienic habits . The swimming cap, was evidence to an energetic plan abandoned. The tortoise would be passed off as a paperweight and the payals as cheap.
Now I was really upset.
How would I explain that the tortoise had a name and had sat with me through every examination, and that the payals though cheap, were a precious reminder of college ‘bohemian’ fashions? Didn't they know that soon after I bought the cap, I chopped all my hair off?
I have a handbag that makes a definite brand, season, collection statement, and I guard it with my life. Any excesses that litter are cleaned out every evening. My daily needs are neatly wrapped in leather and a gold clasp. You would never know that my sweatshirt hasn’t been washed for over a week now.
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