Out Of The Fence

I gazed at the sepia print. It was all faded except for what it stored. I closed my eyes. My senses took the cue. The memories began to take life.

I could hear the crickets chirp like mad. They must be happy the weather was beautiful that night. I felt the cold breeze caress me. I shivered. It was beginning to get cold. Mother Agnes insisted I should wear my sweater. I did grudgingly but as soon as I was out of the convent door, I took it off and hid it behind the hibiscus bush which lined the pathway. I was wearing the dress that my dad bought for me. I did not want my sweater which saw better days to upstage it. I had not worn a new dress for a long time. I wanted to completely delight in the pleasure of wearing one. A car stopped in front of the gate. The driver waved at me. I did not have to worry about the cold any longer. As he had promised to Mother Agnes, Eva’s father sent their family driver to fetch me. 

Almost everyone was there when I arrived. This was Eva’s graduation party. It was an exclusive party just for us, her friends. It would have been a sin for anyone of us to have missed it. As had always been, everyone was looking beautiful. They were all dressed up to the hilt. I would have been surprised if they were not. Either I got numbed from the constant experience of feeling small each time I could only ogle with envy as I see how money could help transform you from looking ordinary to fabulous or I have learned from those experiences how futile it was to moan about things you could not change. Whatever the reason, I no longer felt intimidated. 

The party was really fun. We played games, danced, sang and laughed our hearts out. The clowns and a magician hired to entertain us were a hit. We even had our pictures taken as a group. We were really relishing every minute. We had not even realized how hungry we had become until Eva announced we were moving the party to the garden. It was time to eat. I had seen that garden a number of times but that night it looked different. It was like a fairy land. Beautiful flowers were everywhere. Lights of every imaginable color and shape blinked at every nook. I saw ladies dressed like fairies. It was like a dream. I caught sight of this one very long table enough to seat all of us. Whoever set it up must be one good artist. It was all covered with lovely white laces. The flower arrangements were simply exquisite. The glasswares sparkled and looked so dainty like they were going to disintegrate at a touch. The china which must be pretty expensive exuded beauty and elegance.The cutleries glistened like they were bathed in gold. The thought that I would be using them sent chills into my spine.

 

The array of mouth watering food were so beautifully laid out like they were only meant to be gazed upon. God! I mumbled! Would I end up just gawking at such a culinary ensemble? I can't eat with all those intimidating silverwares. It was not that I did not like to use them. I just did not know how. I did not even know what the use is of those different forks. Why should eating be so complicated? I had always eaten with my bare hands. It was what everybody did back home. I could recall my father telling me that eating should be an act of communion with your food. You got to involve all your senses. You must feel your food. Touch it with your bare hands. Talk to it and give it thanks. I could not remember now if that was exactly what he said particularly the "talk to it" part. But at that moment, all I could think of was to find a way out so I would not make an spectacle out of myself. The first thought that came to my mind was to tell everybody I was not hungry and that they could just go ahead and eat but I knew that was a moronic excuse.

 

My instinct for self-preservation led me to do the unthinkable. I run to Eva. I did not pause to catch my breath. Time was running out. I did not wait for her to speak. I told her of my dilemma as she listened intently. I know she remembered the time I provided the comic relief when she invited me once for a weekend dinner while her dad and mom were away. I had my food splattered all over as I tried to use my fork and knife. I would not want any encore. I suggested to Eva that she ask everyone to eat with their bare hands. It would make the event much more memorable for everyone. What a nerve! I was expecting her to tell me I was crazy but she seized on the idea like it was brilliant. I breathed a sigh of relief. Eva and I ate with our bare hands so many times together and she had fun but we knew we were going to have problems with the other girls. Eva suggested we ask the help of Nicola if the plan was to have a chance. Of us all, Nicola was the most adventurous. Appeal to her adventurous instinct and you could let her jump down the cliff. We took Nicola aside and told her of the plan. I saw her face light up. She was in. We wanted Nicola to pass on the idea as hers. She would love that. She did not waste time. She requested everyone to go wash their hands and wash it pretty well. Rarely would you question Nicola when she would request you to do something. It was not because she was the tycoon’s daughter and only heiress but because you would always be curious to know what she had hidden under her sleeves. It took almost half an hour before everybody was back. All eyes were focused on Nicola. Everyone was anxiously waiting for what she would explode. The explosion did not come. She casually requested everyone to get seated so we could say our grace and start eating. Everybody was disappointed. I was beginning to be worried. Eva and I looked at Nicola. She gave us a wink. She signaled to one of the ladies dressed liked fairies for assistance. She pointed on each dish she wanted on the table and requested her to put some on her plate. She then gathered her flatwares and gave them all to the lady. This done she started to eat with her bare hands. Count on Nicola to put on a show and get the attention. Except for Eva and myself, everybody's jaw dropped in shock. All their lives, they were taught to always act befitting of their social status. Only the commoners ate with their bare hands.It was a mark of someone who smelled of sweat. Nicola, an epitome of high society breeding, had crossed the line. I glanced at Nicola. I burst into laughter. She looked silly in a funny kind of way. Maybe one should not really eat with her bare hands when wearing an expensive silk dress. But she was getting the kick out of it and when on the roll, Nicola could be contagious. I looked at Eva. She threw all her cutleries up on the air. I did the same. Soon there were shouts of glee as forks, knives and spoons rained on the ground. Everyone dug on their food with their bare hands. Their faces all smeared with sauces and the laughters that ensued said it all. My friends were riding high on every moment of their adventure out of their fence.

I opened my eyes. Looked again at the faded photograph in my hands and smiled.