The Joys of Borrowing

From the mundane brown and beige uniform, it was an entry to a world of colours when we went for the school tour to Ooty, Bangalore, and Mysore. Even though we pulled out the best from our closets, something was missing. College, too, was no exception. An Armani or the local footpath t-shirt didn't make a difference as the white apron over it cloaked the colours beneath it. We couldn't go beyond a point to showcase our fashion tastes. We had a code. Few teachers used to scold us if we didn't dress up to the dignity of our profession. School and college tours were a break and a breather from the hectic schedules. And we had to look like romantics as tours was the time when most cupids struck. So we had to add to what was missing to complete the effect.

The addition was mostly a borrow or an authoritative steal from mother, elder sibling or cousins, sometimes even friends. I remember borrowing my cousin's floral shirt for the school tour. That pattern was a rave in those days. It gave me more joy than the new ones which my parents gifted me for the same. The Ray-ban aviator that belonged to my father had long lost its sheen, but it still was a no from my mother, and I didn't have the guts to steal it. Another favourite at home was a maroon shawl, which my mother proudly owned. Even my cousins eyed it and would come all the way home to borrow it for their tours.

These borrowings had a sense of joy. For me, it was a reminder of their presence along with us throughout our journey, giving us a sense of security. Not only borrowed things but also gifts gave me a sense of cosiness. My sister and brother-in-law had gifted me a corduroy jacket. Living in a hot and humid place, I had the least opportunity to wear it. I loved corduroys, but it was only the occasional college tours that I got to wear it. 

Life, as we live it, is a sense of belongingness. For that, there should be giving and take. Not one takes from an emotionally disconnected person, so it's never satisfying to live in water-tight compartments. The joy in a borrowed thing is an extension of the bond we share with them who partook something dear for us, giving along with the warmth of belongingness.