In the Land of Women

Waiting alone on a Saturday afternoon, resisting to order a cappuccino right away is not the most pleasant thing to do. Worse, when one has a slightly tremulous mood to deal with. I was looking beyond the glass walls, trying to catch a recognizable face in the crowd, between erratic intervals of time, wondering if she was stuck in traffic, or if she had forgotten the meeting altogether. I rummaged through my purse, fished out the cellphone, almost clicked the last dialed number which was his, to ask if he had taken the pains to remind her that I was here waiting, not ordering cappuccino. But promised myself a deadline of another five minutes and placed it on the table, waiting for it to beep or something. That's the problem, I always wait for a call, rather than making it myself, it isn't as a big a deal as I make out of it, or is it?

Meeting his sister was the first big step. Rather a leap. Getting to know her was the first tick in fulfilling the Terms & Conditions for marrying him. And we are very particular about our T&Cs. She, being the younger sibling, must have been the more pampered one. When it came to me, he was no good at pampering you know. Calling me 'sweetie' was all about it. But she was brought up like some princess, I was made to assume. So was I expected to treat her like one? I hadn't the slightest idea, as I fidgeted and watched her enter the cafe'. The many photos of her that I had seen, all those mental snapshots of hers, embedded with his dictations of her mannerisms, left me momentarily. She wasn't as tall as her brother, thank God! The walk was no less suave though.

Smiles felt more than obvious. It was supposed to be all goody-goody. Except that I was a total carnivore compared to her religiously vegan habits. And I wasn't told so, unfortunately. The man always skips intricate details, rare trait in the family considering his sister's carefully manicured nails. I began hunting for the color of her nails in her dress. We do all that, don't we? She too must have been toying around with ideas and visions, colors and emotions, and me in her mind. Now that I was stealing her brother away, or so we felt.

until forever

as moments carry me deeper into the night, i live in a sense of denial, clinging on to hope that you will come home tonight, my eyes don't leave the threshold, i wait for your footsteps like an insomniac, such that i almost hallucinate to see you right before my eyes, my untiring eyes, care not about sleep, my heart is beating away in a crazy pain, scanning for every little consolation that could fake your presence, but in vain, it's a lonely night, it's a long night, sans your voice to fill my silences, sans your laughs to arouse my deepest emotion,


after an hour or two, this room will fill with sun-light, then sleep will become a far cry, staring at the roof, i will wait for the day, drinking into the pail of merciless moments, knowing that you wouldn't make it, not tonight, i will shut my eyes to recall your voice and your laughs, and you..aware that you would make it not tonight, not forever


only if i could tell you, that i am here, waiting
tonight and..
until forever

a held thought

i used to be 9. nine. i was made to wear frocks that ended somewhere between my knees and my feet. and they had sleeves made of net, and were mostly red. my hair used to be short, like that of a boy. sometimes it used to grow in wild curls below my shoulders before being mercilessly cropped again. i used to play with dolls. rather, i used to live with them. i talked to trees. stare at the sky, sometimes blue sometimes black. i used to be scared of ghosts. my house had elaborate beds, they had designs cut out on them, i used to look through them, you know i am failing at explaining this to you. it is beyond my words now.

there would be places on the dressing table that has smudges of wax, remnants of a burnt candle, i used to play with. and in the monsoons, the muddy roads used to give way and form puddles i had to jump across. paper boats, i loved making them, i used to fill them with petals before leaving them afloat. one such day in the middle of monsoon, we were to see a certain girl. yes, with the intention of marriage, for an uncle of mine. 

and monsoons also were treacherous. when the incessant rain stopped for a while, it got so sunny that you sweat, but the puddles din't dry up. it used to be hot and wet, both. we set out, all of us, grannys, aunts, dozens of cousins, packed in a smoky old white ambassador, to see the girl. the first gust of smoke from the rickety vehicle would arouse my ever dormant nausea, make my head go round and round. they would make me sit on someone's lap near the window of the car, so that i could take in all the breeze and keep all the vomit inside.

so i started talking to myself again, and also to the trees i saw, like i always did. the road was a straight one, by the side of a canal, that was brimming full of muddy rain water. everywhere there was lush green, the smell of waiting rain the air. and there were trees everywhere, the kinds i had never seen, banyans over hundred years old, with pronounced aerial roots, i couldn't tell which one was the real one. in the midst of journey, the mighty old ambassador would have to screech to a halt, because one of the babies had to pee. 

it was an afternoon, herds of cattle were being led back home, on the way. we were headed to see the girl. somewhere in her purse, grandmother hid an ancestral ring of gold which she would slide up the girl's middle finger, is she seemed to like her. i wondered what the ring looked like, whether it had red stones on it.

the first thing i did after i saw the girl, was to never leave her side. and i said aloud to everyone, look, she has such long hair.

note to the reader: writing a post like this is difficult for me because it is difficult trying to get the perfect words to paint the picture i want to. i wrote this because i wanted to. i don't know how well i could recreate that bygone time.

like a broken bangle
and like the remnant of the moon that stays till the morning sky
like an unsaid word
like a fire doused before it became all ash

you left me,


incomplete

Fluctuating Loyalties

I was looking at a someone's picture and smiling like you often do. And then a second later I looked my phone and it occured to me that I was waiting for another someone's call. For the next few moments, in the dark template of my blog, I gaped at myself, wide mouthed. Something was seriously wrong. I was infatuated to two people at the same time. Unconsciously moving away from the first someone, and conscioulsy closer to the second someone. Does this read adulterous already?

Something similar had happened with me a few years ago. You know you are only perfectly normal if you have scores of crushes. So I happened to meet two of my previous flames at the same time and at the same place. Then followed my platinum opportunity to see them sit side by side. I took the liberties to juxtapose them. I tried to figure our similarities between them to spot my favorite traits and differences to judge if my taste had matured with time. I also compared my madness about the two of them in the two different periods of my life. That afternoon I sat down there infront of them both and quietly carried out this experiment in the world's oblivion. From then on I started having a perspective of my own. And I concluded that I am never to be taken seriously. Till date, I stick, humbly to that conclusion.

But now, I am almost two-timing. Sacrilegious. I understand this doesn't cause any harm of any sort to any of the three of us. But nevertheless. I am stuck in between the two of them. I am in between of nowhere. I wish this transition paces up a little. I hate being stuck, anyway.

Arunima

she took the 12:15 local to her mother's place. no screaming for cabs, no hurry for life. she walked down, her baby clinging to her fast asleep even in that peak traffic rush. her bag stuffed with baby food, diapers..another zip had a purse with certain change, a comb incase it got windy and a cell phone that kept her searching everytime it rang. but she never panicked while looking for it. even if it stopped ringing and she couldn't find it even then, she never..

an hour later when she knocked her mother's door, she opened it, messed up in a crumpled nightie. looks they shared were obvious, no greetings exchanged. the traffic noise lost its impact inside the house. shiny marble tiles, cold and black, on which the baby would crawl and play, once up..

the day glided at its own merry pace and paused whenever it felt like. the dal in the pressure cooker whistled once and again. it woke her up from lazy day dreams she had staring out of the window on the ninth floor at the unruly cabbies underneath. at distant smoke. watching life happen, this way, from a height was all she wanted to do. indifferent, uninvolved and away..

watching the baby sleep quietly was quite another thing. playing with his nose and tickling his lips.. waking him up and biting her lips once he began crying..was yet another thing..

later post three, she would knead dough and flatten balls of it..watch her mother blow them up on a tawa she wondered had always been that black..they would watch soaps in which she would keep confusing between characters and guessing the story ahead..not looking for much spice and leaving life as it was..

sipping cups of sugary tea, sitting on the swing in the portico, watching afternoon become evening..watering her mother's potted plants...playing with mud and clay..

she would take the 6:30 local and be home by the time he came home.

later she would pinch herself to believe if life could be that impeccably normal..

Arunima..