My Precious Cup

Well.. might as well not keep the blog dry.. Pls comment on the following post if you read it.. This was my article for our college magazine in 2007.. The magazine committee due to some technical reasons rejected it.. I respect their decision coz in the end its their call..:) Please comment on whether you can understand the post..Maybe ya my writing style needs to be revamped.. would definitely try doing that if majority cannot understand..:) For all those who intend to have a literal narration this is not for you..
Statutory warning: Pun intended...

MY PRECIOUS CUP!

“Mom, I have to go to college soon….”said the girl. The girl is in her late teens. Mom who was sitting at the dining table having her breakfast gives her a nod and a look which means everything will be okay. Suddenly, from the kitchen there was a crashing sound... the girl sighed and thought to herself, “It isn’t the first time that this has happened.” Last that she saw was her dad going into the kitchen. His hand accidentally hit the cup; the girl’s precious cup had broken. The girl always had a special cup. But this cup was the closest one to her heart. None matched up to this. Neither did she have too much attachment to the rest. Be it coffee, tea or even just water, she always used the same cup. There had been many instances in the past too when her cups had broken under various circumstances. But this time it had broken in a very special way. The cup as such was intact; it was the handle that had broken.
“Next time don’t keep your cup on the edge.” shouted the girl’s dad. The girl being too drained of all emotions to react just said an ok and thought to herself, I didn’t keep the cup on the edge! I never do! Dad always keeps it on the edge. Shouldn’t he say the same to himself? The girl sighed again and went to check the damage to her cup. Had it been a few years back she would have cried incessantly in front of everyone for hours for her cup even if it didn’t mean as much to her.
Well the cup looks ok; she thought to herself, it’s just the handle that’s broken. Somehow she knew the hurt she felt was more than she seemed to show. Why create a fuss? It’s broken... Everything that is made breaks one day or the other. She ran her fingers through the broken handle... Ouch!! Porcelain edges r sharp. But why do I feel this numbness? Did I expect it? Or am I too drained to react? Why don’t I cry? I always have cried for the silliest of things but why can’t I now? My precious cup, the best suited cup was broken, had some of the best drinks in this. It was almost always with me, at least filled with water. Don’t I feel angry at my dad? No, what’s the point? What is broken is broken. But I can’t throw the cup away because it was my precious cup and also only its handle is lost, she told herself. My favorite cup! The cup that lasted more than five years. Wish the cup was either alright or completely broken. In the second case at least I could buy a new one and get over this. But it’s just the handle that is broken. It still means the same to me. But without the handle, it’s not the same. I love my cup. I know what I should do is to throw it away, but…. It’s too close to my heart to ever be able to do so...
“You could have kept it somewhere else.” shouted her dad again. Mom looks at her. Somehow her mother understands all of the girl’s thoughts and says, “Don’t bother too much about the cup. It still isn’t shattered. Everything can be made alright later. Go to college now.”
Alright?????, the girl thought, my cup is broken! I don’t want to see it shatter! I will always keep it safe the way it is now... My cup is broken now... My precious cup!