Torn Jeans

"This jeans of yours is torn all over. Leave it here. I'll give it to the RaddiWala", said mother, on my last visit home, two years ago.
"No. I like it. I still wear it". Threads had come out here and there, hanging loose, lifeless, awaiting final tear. Tapered blue hollow stared from inside.
"Tu toh pagal ho gaaya hai. You've gone mad. So many clothes you have, and if not, buy new ones. I will not let you wear that", she hid the jeans somewhere.
She wouldn't have found it. I brought it back with me. How could I let go of the jeans I loved so much ? So what if some threads were broke. I brought it back, with me.