Towel

It was famously told in the cult classic about hitchhiking across the galaxy (The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy by Douglas Adams written in 1981) that when an inter-galactic highway was about to wipe out the planet, and especially the main person’s home, he should never panic and always have his towel ready. Setting aside the panic part for a moment, I dwelled on the towel a lot. It signifies a regular need in most cultures, it also defines an identity, and it is a signifier of the culture itself. From the traditional “gamcha” of rural Bengal to the unique “peshtamal” in the hammams of Istanbul, towels define a place and culture. At the same time, it could also be something quite personal to some people, which is why sharing a towel could become the sign of things that go far beyond the towel itself. In some ways, to me, who is continuously on a journey, the towel segments life into manageable pieces because the towel defines the space I am in at any moment in time. Even when all other indicators of the segmentation disappear - the people, the places, the sights, the smells, and the sounds - if all those disappear - the towel remains a reliable signifier of the specific segment of life I am in at that moment. People, and the associated places, are significant indicators of the segmentation, such as sharing coffee with a friend at a Blue Tokai, a drink on Wednesday afternoon at the best Indian restaurant in town named after my city, deep political discussions every day at 5:30 pm outside the shop owned by Buro in the AC market, the walks with a loved one in Reynolda Gardens. All these moments segment the places in deep and satisfying ways just as the towel in the morning reminds me that today you will be seeing someone at the aquarium in the mall, or today will be a visit to the Chelsea flower show, or it is time to hang up the damp laundry on the balcony overlooking Ekzarh Yosif. The faithful towel reminds of the day you had, or the day you are about to have. Even the life you are living. The rough and slightly stained ones in the cheap motels from Illinois to South Carolina on those countless business trips, where I was always trying to save money reminded me that one has to try a little harder, and the struggle must intensify, just as the soft caress of the towel robe at the Hyatt in Salt Lake prepares you for an early morning flight. Just like relationships, some towels are preserved, sought again and again, knowing that even if old and tired it is my towel. Others come and go, a fleeting encounter for a hurried shower after a dip in the pool (I cannot swim), a towel never to be seen again, will be cleaned and brought back for the next swimmer - Reusable. Some are not even reusable but simply to be discarded - to be crumpled up and thrown out when the need is over - into the waste basket of relationships – we all remember when we have been the paper towel in the mall restroom. It is at those moments that we yearn for the warmth of a bath robe that will always hang in the bathroom, always there, always ready, a friend indeed who will protect you and never judge you, just like the towel, that you can wrap around you and it offers the sense of security that we all yearn for. And so, whatever happens, do not do what the Outsiders did say in their famous musical, do not "throw down the towel," because there is always another chance, another opportunity and another cleansing that you will need.