The White Shirt

(To Vinayakan, cine actor) I set out to buy a white shirt. The man in the shop took out two-three white shirts together and put them down before me. It’s Rs.1050/- This shirt fits you well. For this one? Rs.800/- It’s good, too. That one? Rs.450/- All are smashing! Aren’t there anything costing less? In the range of 150--200? An odd expression on his face. Is there? There is, but… An odd kind of laughter on his face… Where is that white shirt? It’s not here. It’s there. Near that flower shop. In that corner. There’s some problem with his smile. What? Sir, its what the dead wear! Aha Because it’s cheaper, those who wear that Will die before their death? Will those who were the more expensive white shirts, live even if they are dead? Will the dead come alive, if they were more and more expensive shirts? The dead white shirt And the non-dead white shirt Hung before me. Finally, I bought a black shirt. What’s it’s price? No. I don’t like to tell you. Kuzhur Wilson Translated by: A.J. Thomas.