I am an ordinary umbrella — black cotton cloth stretched over eight iron ribs.
There's no fancy pattern on me, no glossy colour. Even my curved wooden handle looks quite plain. But I had one thing going for me — a sturdy frame, and a deep attachment to my long-time companion.
For several years, I was the faithful companion of a retired gentleman.
His name was Sukumar Chatterjee.
I was with him even back when Sukumar Babu was still working. On his way to the office, I shaded him from the sun; through the monsoon storms, I kept him from getting drenched. Even after he retired, nothing changed between us.
If anything, our friendship only grew deeper.
Every morning, when he went to the market, he'd take me along in his hand.
Sometimes, while walking, he'd tap his fingers on my handle. Other times, back home, he'd stand me in a corner of the verandah and say,
"There you go — you did good work again today!"
I couldn't speak.
But inside, I would think —
"Being able to stay by your side, that itself is my job."
There was something special about my curved wooden handle.
Many years ago, Sukumar Babu himself had carved his initials into it, small and neat —
S.K.
Perhaps he never imagined then that these two little letters would one day become the biggest proof of who I was.
But that story comes much later.
Let me tell you about that day.
That day, the sky had felt heavy since morning. Sukumar Babu had gone out to buy a few essentials from the big market in town.
I was in his hand, as always.
The market was crowded as usual.
Vegetable sellers calling out their wares, the smell of the fish market, shopkeepers hailing customers — the whole place buzzing with life.
Suddenly, towards noon, the sky turned dark.
A gust of wind blew through.
And then —
the rain came down in a torrent.
People began running for cover, whichever way they could.
Sukumar Babu quickly opened me up.
Sheltering under my black cloth, he pushed his way through the crowded market.
After a while, he spotted a small tea stall up ahead.
He ducked in under its tin roof to rest for a bit.
He stood me up against the side of a table.
Then he told the shopkeeper,
"One cup of tea, please."
I stood there right beside him.
Outside, the sound of the rain kept growing louder.
Raindrops fell on the tin roof —
Pit-a-pat... pouring down...
Sukumar Babu was slowly sipping his tea.
I was at ease.
Because I knew that once the tea was finished, he'd pick me up again.
We'd walk side by side again, the way we always did.
But that day, something strange was about to happen.
Finishing his tea, Sukumar Babu took some money out of his pocket.
He paid the shopkeeper.
Then he slung his bag over his shoulder.
It was still raining outside.
In a bit of a hurry, he stepped out of the stall.
I stayed standing right there.
I thought, surely he'll come back for me any moment.
But he didn't come back.
I waited a little longer.
Then it dawned on me —
he had forgotten me.
My eight iron ribs suddenly felt heavy.
The man I had spent so many years with — had he really left me behind?
Amid the sound of the rain, I stood there in silence.
Time kept passing.
New people kept arriving at the tea stall — some drinking tea, some just standing under the awning to escape the rain.
No one was paying me any attention.
Eventually, a middle-aged drifter came and stood in front of the stall.
His clothes were drenched through.
He looked around.
Then his eyes fell on me.
The man picked me up.
He didn't even bother to ask —
"Whose umbrella is this?"
The shopkeeper said nothing either.
The man opened me up and held me over his head.
Then, walking briskly, he disappeared into the market crowd.
I looked back.
Sukumar Babu was nowhere to be seen.
That was the first time it occurred to me —
for a person, losing a thing might be a small, forgettable matter.
But for the thing that gets lost?
For it, that very moment might be when its entire world turns upside down.
I had no idea where the man was taking me.
I only knew this —
I was moving further and further away from Sukumar Babu's hand.
And the real journey of my life —
had only just begun.