Ever wondered what it is be a pillow? I know it takes more to be a pillow than to be a man. Trust me, I know. ‘Coz you see, I was born one.

I wasn’t always called ‘The’ Pillow. For most part of my life I was known just as pillow or even ‘A’ Pillow. But my story starts much before that…my first memory goes back to the time I was just a drawing, though that part is a bit sketchy. Won’t bore you with the details of my journey from that sketch to the bed I used to be the master of, till not so long ago. But do bear with me, gentle visitor, and you will see why it takes more to be a pillow than a man.

Between the time she first brought me home to now, as I sit here between old blankets and other team mates, it’s been one heady journey. I was picked up, scrutinized, even felt all over (it’s not always pleasant to have some run their hands all over you, you know?) and finally dressed up in a nice cover and placed on top of the few other cousins.

I will never forget any day after the day she first picked me up…actually pulled out of the shelf from between others. Her hand was gentle and soft, in a way one can only experience not express. As she lifted to check me out, I saw face that was as radiant as it was intelligent (let me tell you, I have seen quite a few faces from close). I hoped – nay, I knew – she would take me home. And I knew that I would finally begin my life – doing what I was created to do.

It felt good! I felt right at home, as one of the other pillows was a cousin from another batch. And unlike you humans, we do not have rivalry. We know that the new guy will always assume the head position – it’s in our very fiber, so to speak.

She came and sat down on the bed, pulled the quilt up and slid in and lay down. I was aghast. She actually put her head on one of the other pillows, I was on the other side…I wondered if she even remembered me…I was beginning to feel the fluffiness go out of me…I lay there trembling (with indignation) not wanting to face the prospect of being forgotten on my first night.

As I was lost in my own dreadful thoughts, I felt myself being picked and dragged…I almost screamed with shock. But, before I could recover from that, I felt the softness of her cheeks next to mine…She remembered…She placed me right next to her face along side her ampleness. She felt different. Smelt different. I guessed when she picked me up at the store, there must have been so many other smells mingled with her own…but now, it was just her. No perfume, no pollutants, just her.

She held me close and caressed me with her cheeks. She complimented me for my softness (and firmness, ahem!) and held me closer…she murmured a few things that I didn’t catch…then, slowly I felt her grip loosen as she fell asleep. I wished her sweet dreams and was happy that my first night was, after all, a touching experience.

I too drifted into a semi-sleep state – you see most of us pillows only sleep when the human is gone out…otherwise we have to be awake to ensure that they have a proper sleep. We adjust ourselves in many ways…softening sometimes, stiffening the other, moving from under your head, to cover your face. And at other time just be squeezed (and squashed) between various parts of your body. Yes, it feel nice most of the times…sometimes, not so nice.

I lay there, hugged tight, somewhere between chin and stomach – enjoying her softness as much as I was happy at being able fulfill my duty. I felt her stir and move me a bit away and stretch across to reach for her clock. It was still dark outside. As she picked the clock and squinted to see the time, the phone rang – it was thirty minutes past five o’clock in the morning.

The voice on the other side was that of a male human. I heard something like, “Hi, good morning, it’s me.” Or was it, “Hi, good morning, Mehak.”?