I still look back fondly on the days when I was new and stylish. I was stitched in the latest fashion and proudly displayed in the window of a popular clothing store called Fashion Corner in a busy part of Mumbai. During the Diwali shopping season, many people stopped to admire me as they passed by. I was priced at Rs. 750, which was considered quite expensive at that time.

One day, a wealthy tourist purchased me. He cared for me well and carried me wherever he travelled in his smart suitcase. One night, after attending a grand function at a hotel, he returned very late and hung me neatly inside a cupboard before going to sleep. The next morning, a hotel worker noticed me and secretly took me away.

That marked the beginning of my downfall. The worker sold me to a second-hand clothing shop in Kalbadevi for Rs. 300. Soon, I was bought by an office clerk. He wore me carefully for nearly two years and proudly used me on every occasion to impress others. By then, however, I had begun to show signs of age.

During a Diwali celebration, he gifted me to his maid’s son. The boy wore me almost every day. Gradually, I became dirty, worn out and lost my original charm. Before long, he too stopped wearing me. Tomorrow, I will be used to dress an effigy representing the old year. At midnight, I will be burnt as part of the celebration. After that, I will remain only as ashes and dust.