Archive | October, 2009

Girl, Much Interrupted

31 Oct

Every time we were having sex, his mother would call.

That doesn’t happen anymore, though.

We just don’t have sex.

~A conversation between girlfriends.

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Q & A (i)

29 Oct

Q: So what do you do not to cry?

A: I guzzle a litre of chilled water, then I have to urgently pee and the water comes out the other end.

Elementary, Aunt OJ

26 Oct

My nephew D-Cubed will turn 3 next month and two of his favorite things to do are:

1) Iron (it’s a toy I got him from Mothercare, before you call child services!)

2) Call me and chatter about the inmates of his residence

which has me believe he’s a middle-aged hausfrau in a spindly boy’s body, but never mind that.

He also specializes in stating the obvious, like so:

D-Cubed: Hellooooooo? OJ? Mummy stomach is paining, Daddy having a bath.

OJ: And what are you doing?

D-Cubed: Not having a bath.

What’s the going penalty for ditzy aunts?

Death Warmed Over

21 Oct

One wonders if all endings begin this way. When, as if by mere routine, words are spilled, severing frayed ropes, and the universe doesn’t come crashing down, and remains in startling suspension instead. Particles flash-freeze whilst orbiting the present and you join them willy-nilly, mouth agape, eyes puzzled, the back of your voice small and bewildered.

But I haven’t finished washing all the curtains yet, you want to say. And there’s that curry still out of the fridge. Aren’t you proud I put on the futon cover all by myself, cursing softly as my back strained against its cottony bulk? There are tea lights wrapped on the dressing table, you point out, certain he won’t notice, although the baked-apples-and-cinnamon scent would give away their hiding place to a more observant soul. And the cook has a new green dish to match his Thai curry. Stacks and stacks of diyas in traffic light colors. Mounds of pedas and jalebis with their burst of sweetness. Marigold garlands to match the centre chattai, its gilt edges complementing the patterns on the cushions. The missing urli I coveted with the single-mindedness of the barren.

Who will receive that call from Westside, asking to pick up the new jali bench? Will you tell the man I hounded all week before Diwali that I was an apparition and am now exorcised? Can you tell our friends in passionate detail how the pearly white of its new cushions was meant to offset that of the futon? Put away our pictures, take down the lights, the faux toys of the lamp hanging mock the silence, the plants remain unsung to, crumpled at the edges, the sea we gazed at spooningly an outsider in its home.

But you’ll see me in the fold of the coverlet, hear my song in your drawer of holey socks. My toothbrush lies there, brittle and waiting, and the shampoo you used to smell of me. You’ll discard slippers in defiance, but my voice won’t cease to drone. And my spirit will wander in that restless hour when the sun’s last rays grudgingly dim.

Maybe all endings begin this way. But those curtains, they’re only half washed. Put them in a spin cycle, won’t you? For I am frozen still.

How Goes The Day, Ms. Havisham?

15 Oct

Sometimes the hardest challenge in a relationship is the ex who spoiled you silly.

Maithili’s Confession

13 Oct

Right before Harish comes home at 1 for lunch, I pleasure myself in the store room and call out my ex’s name.

It’s been 25 years since my wedding day.

And 3 since He ended it.

Must be off now, I can smell the food burning.

Harish likes his sambar hot and his rice sticky.

Weighty Matters

9 Oct

a.k.a. Is That Flight Going Light?

***

Even airlines have baggage restrictions.

So why not men?

~ Me to her, during one of our many conversations in which we ponder the nature of the universe (read swap angst / bitch the place down).