“Shoo, shoo, go away. Away, I said.”
The young dogs were the first to push their noses where they did not belong, but, unlike the people who came later, they were decent enough to heed the words of the lady, who was demanding her space. They heeded, because she had been good to them these past few days, feeding them when no one else had. They took care not to come too close, but they also knew that going away would mean no dinner. So, they paced.
I stood leaning on the door of the piratemaster of our undergraduate hostel, scratching my left forearm under the elbow. The day was really sunny outside and if you were someone sitting inside the dimly lit room, high on the latest episode of Breaking Bad, one look at me would have gotten you cracking. With the rich, bright, sepia sunlight streaming in from behind me, I looked totally like a goodoldgone addict itching for more methamphetamine to shoot up my bloodstream — even mosquito bites on my forearm, from last few nights, had been scratched enough to look like puncture marks from overused needles.
“Looooook at meeeeeee.”
I tore myself away from page 136 of The Further Adventures of Brer Rabbit to look at her. She had her head thrown back, laughing out into the sky that would have been moving so fast in front of her eyes that the clouds would have seemed to be coming alive and running around like little white rabbits let loose in a barn full of hay. She was taking that swing as high as it would go, kicking hard off the soft tonsured soil in the grass from where thousands of children had previously taken flight. As she launched herself again, she nodded at me asking me to join her on the swing — come, there’s enough space for both of us. Continue reading
“Oye, you listening? We seem to have run out of rice. Could you get some from the street store?”
And thus started my Sunday morning. I had happily put on my headphones and searched for Byomkesh Bakshy OST, prepping for a nice two hours of writing, when I heard this coming straight out of the kitchen. The thing about noise-cancellation headphones is that they can save your ears from the perpetual droning of the marble cutter running all day in your neighbour’s backyard, but they haven’t yet been built to defend you against the deadly chore-calls of your mother. Continue reading
I like how you’ve lost weight.
I like how you did that just for me.
How you’ve let go of the gentle curves
And brought in a sharpness about you,
The small of your back angling down to the hips.
I like how you’re no longer slightly inside yourself,
How you’ve chosen to come flush with your body.
I like how you are a Voyage now:
I like how you promise you’ll escape with me
To wondrous worlds of pure delight,
When I come to bed with you, tired from the day,
Turn you on and enter you, submitting myself fully.
I like how you’ll now understand my whims
Turning a new leaf when I press you lightly on the side,
Adjusting yourself to the brightness of my moods.
I hate myself for this, but I also like
How you’ve bitten the forbidden Apple
And have decided to act all pricey now,
Claiming a lot more from me, upfront,
For the novelty you have brought in with you.
I like how I’ll wait for the day I have you.
“It’s a girl.”
24 years ago, when my mother heard these words, she was so thrilled that she forgot all about the pains of her pregnancy. Her pregnancy had been taking a toll on her lately with the weight increasing too much in the past two months – she had known ever since that it was going to be a big baby and a difficult one at that, given all the kicking it had been doing. Moving around also had not been so easy since her feet always hurt and she wanted to sit down anywhere she could. It was one such occasion that led to the events of her getting the news, which came as a welcome relief from the pain she had been handling in the past nine months. To top it all, she had always wanted a girl. So, in a way, her prayers were coming true. Continue reading