Pompomdidi gifted me a shirt. A deep tomato colored shirt made of some synthetic material. She got it from America where she stayed. She was a very distant cousin of mine but I used to feel proud of her - she was the only person I knew who stayed abroad. I used to get awestruck by looking at her fair complexion - and the obvious reason behind it, that she stayed in America. I was hardly in seventh class then.
Next seven days or so, I never missed wearing it. Finally, the Sunday, I decided to wash it myself. Once done, the next step was to press it using my father's electric iron - with my own hands. Obviously I could not leave it to anyone else - it was a shirt from America. None of my friends had such an item.
Unfortunately the American synthetic shirt could not bear the heat of the Indian iron and the back part melted. A big hole in the back. A big hole in my heart too.
But Americans used to come to India in the Winter and that was the time for us to wear sweaters. So, next day onwards again I wore the same shirt and a sweater on top of that. The large tomato colored collars visible below my grinning face.
Next seven days or so, I never missed wearing it. Finally, the Sunday, I decided to wash it myself. Once done, the next step was to press it using my father's electric iron - with my own hands. Obviously I could not leave it to anyone else - it was a shirt from America. None of my friends had such an item.
Unfortunately the American synthetic shirt could not bear the heat of the Indian iron and the back part melted. A big hole in the back. A big hole in my heart too.
But Americans used to come to India in the Winter and that was the time for us to wear sweaters. So, next day onwards again I wore the same shirt and a sweater on top of that. The large tomato colored collars visible below my grinning face.
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