It's past that time of the evening when mosquitoes bite because anybody who decides to take a stroll at this hour is devoid of any substance.
Post curfew, our only stimuli were groaning slum boys on cheap psychedelics and the stubborn hope that they'd drown out the screams inside us. Our senses are strange, they don't know when to stop and be idle, not dysfunctional just numb.
I remember lying beside her when she told me, or rather warned me of what lay ahead. I assured her that I'd slay all the dragons, like a medieval king in that clichéd children's book that I loved. I couldn't notice how worried she was behind that pale smile, or how helpless she felt.
Jane's in middle school now; I took a few pictures on her first day. She keeps complaining about her lunchbox; apparently I put in a lot of food and the teacher scolds her for wasting it. I guess I never really learnt proportions. How tall were you again?
"Aye mister, here to see someone?"
"Ah yes, my father, it's the fifth anniversary."
That was the guy who looks after things here. He's over eighty and they still got him doing the dirty work and everyday chores. In all of this, I think he finds some sanity in the monotony. Sometimes, it's the change in scenery that is frightening.
Wasn't it one of the days when he had food?
Yes, I distinctly remember you brought some leftovers from Khan Uncle's Dhaba. I put Jane to bed and sat in the little pool of moonlight, around the littered crumbs with the oil-stained plate reflecting the city's aurora on an unworthy face. For the first time, I wanted to be out of that house after curfew and devoid of substance.
"Get me some tobacco, and take your sister."
I had a few pennies left over after buying your tobacco, I brought us a few kulfis. Ironical, isn't it? Jane didn't see your diminishing form on the porch. It was just smoke and us walking away from it. The heat was too much to bear after all.
Why do you think I come here every year and talk to you, not mom? Because she's in a better place, somewhere love reigns supreme. But you're still lost, here and wherever they say one goes from here.
I'm lost too, dad. So tell me, was it the drinking or the fire, that finally melted your heart?
©sagnik_sarma
Post curfew, our only stimuli were groaning slum boys on cheap psychedelics and the stubborn hope that they'd drown out the screams inside us. Our senses are strange, they don't know when to stop and be idle, not dysfunctional just numb.
I remember lying beside her when she told me, or rather warned me of what lay ahead. I assured her that I'd slay all the dragons, like a medieval king in that clichéd children's book that I loved. I couldn't notice how worried she was behind that pale smile, or how helpless she felt.
Jane's in middle school now; I took a few pictures on her first day. She keeps complaining about her lunchbox; apparently I put in a lot of food and the teacher scolds her for wasting it. I guess I never really learnt proportions. How tall were you again?
"Aye mister, here to see someone?"
"Ah yes, my father, it's the fifth anniversary."
That was the guy who looks after things here. He's over eighty and they still got him doing the dirty work and everyday chores. In all of this, I think he finds some sanity in the monotony. Sometimes, it's the change in scenery that is frightening.
Wasn't it one of the days when he had food?
Yes, I distinctly remember you brought some leftovers from Khan Uncle's Dhaba. I put Jane to bed and sat in the little pool of moonlight, around the littered crumbs with the oil-stained plate reflecting the city's aurora on an unworthy face. For the first time, I wanted to be out of that house after curfew and devoid of substance.
"Get me some tobacco, and take your sister."
I had a few pennies left over after buying your tobacco, I brought us a few kulfis. Ironical, isn't it? Jane didn't see your diminishing form on the porch. It was just smoke and us walking away from it. The heat was too much to bear after all.
Why do you think I come here every year and talk to you, not mom? Because she's in a better place, somewhere love reigns supreme. But you're still lost, here and wherever they say one goes from here.
I'm lost too, dad. So tell me, was it the drinking or the fire, that finally melted your heart?
©sagnik_sarma
Comments
Post a Comment