I just had a break up. It was a year and a half long relationship. With a water bottle. It was very dear to me. Ask anyone around me and you’ll know. I never went anywhere without it. Not to college, not to office and not on a ride on my bike, not even on my cycle. It’s this orange Tupperware bottle.
Here’s the right picture.
I remember the day when my mum first bought it. She bought it because my previous Tupperware bottle started smelling weird. That was the normal blue bottle that everyone has these days. Other companies have even made an imitation of it and my roommate Sanjana had bought the fake one. Gosh! How hard she was trying to be like the elite Tupperware folk. (If my editor read this copy, she’d tear it apart and ask me if Tupperware was paying me). Anyway, my old bottle and I had good times. But it wasn’t unique enough. Also, it began having an affair with Sanjana’s fake bottle.
So my mum got me this new bottle when I visited Bangalore from Chennai. Sorry to quote the cliche, but it was love at first sight for me. The colour, the never-before seen shape, the size – it was too perfect. It was made for me.
I have taken it everywhere with me. First of all, its childhood was spent in Chennai when I was studying at ACJ and I’d bring it to Bangalore everytime with me. I took it to Pondicherry every time I visited the little pizza-land. I took it to Pavagada, a tiny taluk in Tumkur, to cover deprivation. (A course we were required to do for 15 days, to go and write reports about how deprived people are in remote areas in the country). There, it served me well. We even collected water in the bottle from roadside taps. And that water was full of fluoride, because that’s the biggest problem Pavagadans face. But my bottle purified the water and didn’t cause us any sort of fluorosis.
This bottle has been the orange ray of sunshine in my life. I have made iced tea in it an innumerable number of times, during hot sultry days in Chennai. It was the best combination with pizza from Pizza Republic (Because I don’t drink carbonated drinks). I have made rose milk in it after sweaty bouts of TT or cycling. It has accompanied me during walks to the beach. It didn’t matter that it was big and bulky. I’d carry it anyway, even if I wasn’t carrying a bag. It has been in my room in Chennai, day in and day out, and it has watched Game of Thrones and That 70’s Show with us. It has seen the four of us do things we shouldn’t. It knows all our secrets. But it never ever opened up, not until I made it open up. It’s a loyal, good bottle.
I feel bad about not having taken it to Europe with me. I’d lament in the night thinking about it, because bottles in Europe were either too small or too well-rounded. It’s just that this bottle has taken good care of me. It has made me drink so much water, and that is always good for health. I used to refill it around three or four times a day. More times in Chennai than in Bangalore. That’s about four litres of water. Now you know why I’m healthy all the time. It’s all thanks to my bottle, Tuppy.
Today, I am replacing the bottle with another one. Another Tupperware bottle of course. Like the bottle, I’m loyal as well. It’s of my favourite colour.
I haven’t used it yet. I’m still in the process of letting go of Orange Tuppy. We are on good terms. But I’m not entirely letting it go. Don’t want to hurt it. I’ll keep it at home and use it from time to time. But for now, it’s a good bye.
Strange how such silly little things can get so attached to us.