This all about my Jug

We were standing outside Regal Cinema. The show was to begin at 3 pm. I checked my watch, it was 2.30 pm. The doorkeeper had told us that we would be taken inside only five minutes before. Helpless we waited outside the cinema.

'Come on, let us go and eat something.' Sagir said.

'No. If we do that we will be late. I do not wish to miss the beginning.' I said.

'Ok. Then let us eat mangoes.' He said and took out two mangoes from his backpack.

'Here?' I asked as I preened through the crowd which was waiting outside the hall.

'Yes.' Sagir said.

'We don't have a knife to cut it.' I said.

'You don't need a knife. Just press the mango from all sides and then bite it. The juice will flow into your mouth.'

'What others will say?' I asked. I was uncomfortable eating mango in full public view in the most dirty manner.

'What they will have to say? Are we smoking? Are we eating pan masala? We are not indulging in any addictions. We are eating the gift of nature.' Said Sagir and squeezed the mango into his mouth.

At that moment I wondered when was the last time I had done any thing without thinking what others would say. I admired Sagir's ability to carry out the commands of his heart. Yet I was uncomfortable eating the mango with both my hands.

By now Sagir was about to finish his mango.

'What are you thinking? Simply go ahead.' He said.

Hesitantly I pressed the mango very gently from all sides, as if it contained my baby.

'Now chew it from the side of the stem.' Sagir said.
 
I followed his advice. The juice of the fruit had never tasted so sweet. But some of it trickled down my elbows. I was embarrassed. What others would think of me? They would consider me to be a dirty, unsophisticated man. But as I continued to eat the mango, all the shame, discomfort withered away.

When I finished it I thought that I ate fruit of confidence rather than the mango. That mango not only made me feel confident but also made me happy. Suddenly what others said did not matter at all. I had overcome the what others will think syndrome. This is what my Jug, my Sagir had taught me.

Our weekly escapades made me even more confident and happy. We would sing loudly on the deserted streets of Fort, which during the night time were almost deserted. We would eat at the most unhygienic stalls and laugh to our hearts content.

 Before meeting Sagir, I behaved as if the burden of the whole world was put on my shoulders. But Sagir taught me to laugh, he taught me to enjoy, he taught me not to take life too seriously. He taught me to love myself. For this act of his I am eternally grateful to him. 

“I am writing about Jug in my life for the #DearZindagi activity at BlogAdda“