Pooja Shankar

I’ve been sitting here for so long now that I can’t even remember how I got here. Yet, as I watch the world go by, I sometimes think about what Mustafa would have to say about things. We’d lived together for 4,000 years, you see. And he was like, well, probably any other genie. A bit more stubborn, though. And then, one day...everything changed. That was the day the little black boy found us. In a trash can. I can’t imagine how he did it, but he actually managed to get Mustafa to wriggle free. My genie was so thrilled that he granted the boy one special wish. The little boy thought about it for a really long time. And then looked up and said, “I want to become somebody important when I grow up”. “You mean like a rich man? An astronaut? A scientist?” asked Mustafa. “No…like the President. Of my country.” Mustafa puffed up his big chest and laughed. “The President? Of the United States?!! Oh boy!” Then he looked at the little boy. The boy smiled back at him not understanding why Mustafa found his wish so funny. I winked at Mustafa. He smiled, patted his chest and told the boy that he would grant him his wish. That was more than 40 years ago. I haven’t heard from Mustafa since. I used to tell him that his wishes were all hogwash. Poor little black boy. I wonder what he’s doing now.



Supposed to be on a green bottle. But think it's more practical on a trash can.