Tag: Life

Posted in Fiction

Seen: Part 1 of 2

Posted on by Shaily Agrawal

This is the first instalment of my new short story.

As I apply make-up for my date in front of my mirror, I shrink when I see ‘him’. He is fixing his tie—maroon—on a black shirt. My heart sinks at what it could mean. Did a woman give him this tie? Is he trying to impress someone?

I don’t want to distrust him by questioning something as simple as his dressing style. It could just be a formal occasion at home; perhaps, a cousin’s engagement or marriage. Is he the best man? Will he flirt with the bride’s maid?

Well, it could be just a business meeting, but it is weekend and he is whistling.

The thought of him with another woman pinches my heart. I thought I had learnt to live my life knowing he would continue to live his life without me. Lately, we had been getting along well—me avoiding looking at him like a star-struck teenager and him staring at…

…nothing…

…since, he can’t see me on this side of the mirror.

I first saw him on my seventeenth birthday, when I wished on the birthday candles to see my true love—I know! Miserable! But I had just caught my boyfriend cheating on me and it seemed an appropriate wish at that time….until I went to wash my hands in the sink. There he was in the mirror eating popcorn while watching television! I let the matter drop for the moment, assuming I was hallucinating.

But soon I realised that my stars weren’t dropping it. After that, I could see him in every reflective surface—mirrors, puddles on the road, window panes, steel dinner plates and cutlery—whenever he was in front of a reflective surface too. That includes car’s rearview mirrors, which made me incapable of driving. Putting on make-up depended on whether he was in front of a reflective surface or not. I changed my schedule to match his. I wake up before him so that I don’t forget my own face and I avoid looking around between 7 and 7:30 while he uses bathroom.

Earlier, seeing him did not enthrall me—in fact, it irritated me no end. Who wants to see a scrawny teenager taking a shower, kissing a girl in college parking lot or smoking his first cigarette with friends? When he acquired a smart phone, all reflective surfaces would reflect him intent on phone gaming for hours and I have come to know the inside of his ear so well I could be his ENT specialist. And now that he works in front of a computer all day, I see him all day working.

So, obviously, I actively tune him out, almost like having switched on reality TV on mute but choosing not to see it for long stretches of time. There are times when I can’t help it though, like when he started growing up into a better person, helping old people on the road and pulling out chairs for ladies.

One thing I have never seen him doing, though, is cheat on a girlfriend. A few months back, I witnessed his meltdown in the shower. I think his steady girlfriend dumped him because I stopped seeing her with him after that. And then he zombie-zoned for months until a couple of weeks back when he was finally able to smile at something. This is his first “tie-day” ever since.

This incident is what did it, I’m sure. All of a sudden, I could finally see him as a person, and not just a splotch in the background. Ever since then, I have steadily degenerated into a girl crushing on a reality TV star, all without any hope of ever meeting him.

Honestly, I never waited for him. I’ve had my own set of dates and a couple of boyfriends. Now, after an year of my last painful break-up, I’m back in the dating circle. This is my fifth attempt at dating since nobody seems to click. That’s why, I don’t want to see ‘him’ kiss another girl tonight and end up comparing my date with him. So far, it has always ended up in immediate disappointment.

To be continued

Photo by Zane Lee on Unsplash

Posted in Poetry

Cluttered

Posted on by Shaily Agrawal

Vaguely aware of the piles of thought

Inside my autumnal head;

Smelling reminiscence rot;

Feeling a little mislead.

I am somewhat cold

On the usually warm bench;

Almost missing your arms,

Making my heart wrench.

Spring cleaning was ere long due.

Clearly, while leaving leaves behind, you

Blew them really far apart,

Scattering my heart

To the wind.

Now I’m forever cluttered,

Trapped in autumn.

Photo by Autumn Mott Rodeheaver on Unsplash

Posted in Poetry, Random Thoughts

The Shine

Posted on by Shaily Agrawal
Daily writing prompt
Do you think we’re shaped more by our experiences or by who we are?
View all responses

I was a leaf;

A new one;

Soft and small;

Nobody, I believed, could

Take away my shine.

.

The Draught did it though.

I tried hard to fight back;

Clinging to the Tree

As it tried to shake me off;

Fighting to nurture myself;

Trying to the keep the shine.

.

I survived.

When it rained finally,

I was still clinging to the Tree;

Still somewhat green.

I couldn’t wait for the shine to return.

.

It didn’t.

.

But I was

Harder, thicker, sturdier;

I survived.

In the end,

It is all that matters.

Posted in Fiction

At Sea: Part 3 of 3

Posted on by Shaily Agrawal

Author’s note: This is the third and final instalment of my latest short-story.

You can find Par1 and 2 here: Part 1 and Part 2

A higher wave pushes us and we hold on to each other for dear life, hoping our combined weight will stop us being pushed into the rising sea. The rock is submerging too fast.

“Do you want to do a Titanic for the selfie you are sending him?” I ask. “It will be completely dark in a couple of minutes.” I don’t say we will drown in sometime. I want to hang on to hope.

The sudden smile on her face makes my heart squeeze, like I am alive again.

She quickly poses against the Sun with me behind her, one hand spread out in a flying pose with both of mine and clicks a picture with the other hand. She quickly sends it before she loses her nerve. She is giggling like a school girl, “I know it is not a making-out picture but I’m happy we sent it. Let that photo burn his retinas.”

“Okay, what else do you want to send him? I’m game.” I join in enthusiastically.

A sly smile spreads across her face for a second. I can see she is considering a really obscene photo. Since we are dying in a few minutes, I don’t mind. Honestly, I wouldn’t mind it even if we were going to stay alive. There is something about this person, which makes me feel like I would be upto anything she suggests. Like an old school-time best friend.

But then she stops, shaking her head. “No, I can’t subject him to that… or you. I’m not that person.”

I shake my head, realising I believe her words. I am not that person too. I try to change the topic, “So, is it true? Did you really hire a guy for…?”

“I tried to get one. But I lost my nerve before I could speak to him,” she admits sheepishly.

“Why did you try for one though?”

“I wanted to move on…” The pain on her face sears my heart.

A large wave pushes at us, and I hold her to my chest, lest the water might topple her into the sea before it is time. I keep hugging her after the wave is gone. With my wounds still raw, her pain is mine.

“You don’t hire men to move on, you know. You look for one who might really mean something to you and take it from there.”

“Does your advice apply to men too?” She gestures at my henna-tattooed palms for impact.

“I don’t know. It has only been three days since she eloped the night before our marriage,” I speak in a defeated tone.

It is completely dark around us, and I feel her nod against my chest, “I guess you will find out in a few years.”

Does she really believe I have a few years ahead of me? The darkness compounded by waves occasionally pushing at our knees makes me feel not so hopeful. I wonder if there are sharks around. Nerves are rattling around my insides, and I am shaking from more than just cold. We are still not inside water but we are close.

I feel her fumbling with her hands and hold her tightly afraid she is going off-balance, trying to be the anchor, at least until the sea is high enough to swallow us.

She switches on her phone torch and waves behind me, signalling. I dare not move, afraid of losing balance, but I hear voices at a distance.

The rescue team has arrived.

*****

Since the boat can’t come too close to the rock, the team passes rubber tubes to us and makes us jump in the ocean before someone pulls us on the boat. And, then to my utter mortification, I retch on the side of the boat while my fellow survivor holds me, so I wouldn’t fall off in the ocean again.

Way to make a first impression!

Once we are back on the dry land and the rescue team members are sure we are going to be okay, they drop us where we can find a ride to our respective hotels. Trying to redeem some of my lost dignity, I am the first to speak, “Now that we are still alive, where do you want to go?”

She smiles understanding my intention, “My flight for Switzerland is delayed for some years. Sigh! I’ll go to my hotel room instead. Do you have any cash for a taxi? Because my purse with my cash, card and hotel keys was washed off at the rock before I woke up. And Paytm needs a working phone. Mine is dead from all the water.”

“Mine is dead too but I do have some cash. Don’t you want to eat something first though? I’m famished.” Suddenly, after three days of being continuously queasy at the thought of food, I am ravenous. Extended periods of near-death experience and utter mortification, compounded with absolute relief, can do that to a person.

“It depends. Can I send him a picture?” She asks, unsure now that we are both on dry land, alive and free.

“I’d love one, but our phones drowned. They are dead, at least until someone looks at them.”

“Well, I see a mobile shop over there. And a restaurant. Let’s eat something and then get our phones fixed. Then, we can get an icecream photo.”

“Only if you make a kissy face!” I can feel a smile creeping in.

“Let’s both make kissy faces—you can send a copy to your fiancée too.” We both giggle at the thought.

“Let’s both pick some nice locations for full effect!”

She is full swing now, “I’ve heard this place has some pretty waterfalls. Want to go there tomorrow? And… I didn’t get your name?”

“That’s a really lame pick-up line, especially considering it’s coming from a girl.”

She swats my shoulder, and I make a face, like I was six again, sending her into a fit of giggles again. We are fellow-survivors, alive in the moment.

The rest of life can wait.

END

Photo by Kush Dwivedi on Unsplash

Posted in Fiction

At Sea: Part 2 of 3

Posted on by Shaily Agrawal

Author’s note: This is the second instalment of my latest short-story. You can find Part 1 here.

It is difficult to believe such a simple traditional-looking girl like her could kill anyone. But what do I know? My own traditional-looking fiancée ran away with another guy, shredding my heart into pieces, not even bothering to throw it in a landfill.

I choose to be quiet.

“Not so keen on hanging around me for eternity anymore, huh?” She looks smug.

“Let’s just say I don’t like the idea of following you to hell. I don’t even love you to risk that for you.”

I think I would have risked that for my wife–well, ex-fiancée…if not out of love, then out of sense of duty. But she chose to bestow that honour on someone else. If only she had said something during our numerous romantic phone calls after our marriage was arranged. She made me believe she wanted me as much as I wanted her and then eloped with her lover while her family was visiting mine for the Tilak ceremony.

The only reason I travelled here today was to run away from pitying eyes. They would probably think I committed suicide.

The thought of dying is looking closer to reality now since higher waves are wetting our ankles frequently and the spray of water is constantly keeping us wet. I have waited all my life working hard, believing that once I am better situated in work, I would get my chance at love.

Now, here I am at sea, dying, right after I am dumped by the woman I finally set my hopes on.

The Sun is dipping on the horizon much like our lives. The thought of never finding love hurts much more than the rejection itself. I don’t want to die but, more than that, I don’t want to give her the satisfaction that she affected me strongly enough to drive me to suicide. She chose to dump me. She doesn’t deserve the credit for my death.

The stranger on my side stands quietly and lets me have my ‘moment’. She seems to sense there is more to my story but doesn’t have the heart to tease it out of me anymore.

A phone call pierces the space around us. Her phone screen blinks.

“You get phone reception here?”

“My phone does, it seems. How else do you think I made that phone call for help?”

“Oh yes. I think you should answer the call. Your husband from the landfill might not like being ignored.” I point at her phone, smiling—”Hubby” is calling.

She huffs and accepts the phone call. I can’t help being curious enough to listen in. We are huddling too close in the center of the peak of the rock now to avoid overhearing anyway.

“What do want?”

Pause

“Why do you care where I am?”

Pause

“In middle of the sea. Probably drowning in the next few minutes.”

Pause

“Huh, you wish. I am not coming back to haunt you! Four years were more than enough. I am not wasting another minute on you. Now hang up. You are ruining my first post-divorce vacation. I don’t want to drown thinking of you.”

Pause

“Yes, she told you the truth. Yesterday, I went to a striptease bar, drank half-a-bottle of wine and hired a man to spend the night with.”

Pause

“Stop laughing. I am telling the truth!”

Pause

“Fine, I did try though. I can cheat, just like you cheated on me for so many years.”

Pause

“Okay, it’s not cheating anymore that we are not married but the thought counts. I just need a little more practice. I am alone with a man right now.”

She looks at me guiltily as I raise my eyebrow. Would I help someone take revenge for being cheated on? The fellowship rises its head within my chest, and I smile back encouragingly.

Pause

Her voice is softer this time, “No, I can’t return. I can’t forget it. I might have if I hadn’t caught you in the act; say, if someone else had told me. But I saw you both, and I keep thinking about it. Even after an year, it is all I see whenever I close my eyes. Please stop calling me and move on. Let me move on…”

Her begging tone cuts through my core–“Even after an year…“

I had been there only three days and I feel half-dead. Is there no hope?

Pause

“No, I am done with repeating myself. I am moving on.” She looks back at me in apologising manner, “I am going to make out with this guy here. And I will send you a photo as proof. May be then you will stop calling me.”

With those words, she hangs up. I can feel my eyebrows reach my hairline. She just shrugs, “It felt good to say it out loud and hear him squirm one last time before I die.”

To be continued

Read part 3 here: At Sea: Part 3 of 3

Photo by Kush Dwivedi on Unsplash

Posted in Fiction

At Sea: Part 1 of 3

Posted on by Shaily Agrawal

Author’s note: This is the first instalments of my latest short-story.

She is shivering violently and blabbering, “I am flying to Switzerland tonight.”

“You mean if we are rescued?” I try a gentle tone. I am scared stiff too, so I can understand her denial.

She manages a smile, though the strain of the effort is clearly visible on her face. “No. If they rescue me, I have a crap job to go back to in three days and a mean manager to hate. But if they don’t find us in time, well, I am no mermaid. It is all well to see one sunset at the sea. An eternity of sunset view is too much! If I die, I am going to travel—there are so many places I want to see—”

If she is trying to make light of our impending demise to avoid a meltdown, two could play at this game. “Aren’t ghosts supposed to stay and haunt a single place?” I shiver at my own ill-timed joke. If only I could turn back time a couple of hours.

*****

It was a bad idea to seek out a stranded place on the shore to sleep in when I had never been to the sea before. All I wanted was a couple of hours of peace from the continuous phone calls—people offering sympathies or advice to move on. I didn’t want to switch-off my phone. It felt wrong to turn my back on my well-wishers. Going out of network coverage area for a bit had seemed like a good excuse at that time. So, I had walked until the network bars had stopped showing.

Then I saw a road sign of what seemed like sun setting in the sea and found this large rock rising gradually from the sand. The highest point was nearly two-metres high providing an amazing view of the sea ahead. It seemed like an ideal spot to sit down and settle my thoughts. There was enough room for me and one other person here on the other side of the rock, sleeping in the sun. I had walked up on the slowly rising rock to this highest point. Then, exhausted after three sleepless nights, I had closed my eyes to rest them for a few moments…

An urgent voice woke me up, “Hey, do you know how to swim?”

My eyes wanted to stay glued together but the fear in the voice made me sit up, “Why? What happened?”

The stranger’s face looked scared, “If you can swim, I think you should leave now. My travel agent told me this rock gets submerged during high tide.”

The high tide was in. The rock that had been so far away from the sea earlier during the day was now almost-submerged. The lower part from where I had walked up here were now under at least five feet of water. Waves were rolling in and there was half a mile of sea in the direction I had come from.

There was no way we could walk back.

“I don’t know how to swim. Do you?”

“No.” She sighed, “I have called my travel agent. He said he will contact the local rescue team. Let’s hope they find us real soon. He said locals usually avoid this rock since the area is lower than others. He said there is a danger sign on the main road, but tourists seem to be ignoring it.”

“Danger sign? So that sign showed the rock getting submerged?”

“You saw the sign too? It looks so much like the sun setting in the sea.” She shook her head in a mocking way, but her voice was shaky.

I sent a quick prayer to the skies. Yes, I was heart-broken, but I wasn’t ready to die yet.

*****

Returning to this moment, I can see she is considering how to answer my ‘haunting the place’ question without having a meltdown, “I think it depends on personal preferences, whether a ghost wants to stay put or drift. I want to travel. What about you? Are you planning to haunt this rock?”

“Well, I haven’t decided yet. Do you want company on your journey to Switzerland?” I smile, joining in this crazy one-on-one. I am tired of fuming for the past three days.

I want to cry but I was raised being told that guys don’t. My eyes are hurting from the effort of keeping tears at bay and I don’t remember the last time I ate. I think it was three days back during my Tilak ceremony. The thought of the happiness of that moment makes my eyes tear up.

I look away at the rising water around us.

She seems to have sensed my mood, “Naah, I’m good. I don’t want to give my shoulder to a drunk guy to cry on.”

The salt spray from a high wave hits me on the face and I stagger, “Seriously? I don’t think ghosts can drink. Moreover, you don’t even know if I do drink at all! You only met me five minutes ago.”

“Well, you are a man, and men take to drinking when they need to tell their wives on their honeymoon that they are into men? How else would they gather enough courage?”

“Into men? Who said that?”

“Really? What are you doing alone, sleeping on random rocks, in the country’s most hyped honeymoon spot while on honeymoon (gesturing at the mehendi tattoos on my palm)? Why did you agree to go to Switzerland with me? Why aren’t you calling your wife to tell her you are dying and that you love her?”

“May be because I don’t have a wife to call? May be because I never got around to getting married!” Some of the higher waves have started to push at our ankles. My nerves are getting at me and I am cranky.

“So, is it because you’re gay?”

“No. Why would you presume so?” She is getting on my nerves worse than the waves.

“If I had presumed, I wouldn’t have asked!” She is smiling. Now, I can see she is trying to make light of my non-existent marriage as well as our impending demise, while trying not to freak out by the water being so close.

I challenge her back, “Well, what if I am. Do you have a problem with me?”

“No. I will still not be the shoulder you cry on, and I will still not carry you when you are drunk.”

“Fine. I promise not to cry or drink once I am dead. By the way, why aren’t you calling your husband to tell him you are into girls, huh? From what I remember, you are also alone in the country’s most hyped honeymoon spot and sleeping on the same random rock as I.”

“I am not parading around with mehendi tattoos on my palms, am I? And may be, I am not calling him because I killed him, cut him into pieces and threw them in a landfill? May be, I came here to hide from the Police?”

The reply makes me do a once over.

Is she telling the truth? Or is she trying to scare me so I wouldn’t try anything funny while we are alone?

To be continued

Read Part 2 here: At Sea: Part 2 of 3

Photo by Kush Dwivedi on Unsplash

Posted in Random Thoughts

The World Moves on Without Me

Posted on by Shaily Agrawal

I have been out at my parent’s place for two weeks now–two weeks of slacking, sleeping off, shopping, meeting old friends celebrating life in general, and no writing.

i took a break from everything I held tight. A part of me worried about what would happen while I was gone.

I returned to the world partially last Wednesday, still working part-time from home, worrying that I will find a total wreck. What I found was heart-wrenching… nothingness. Nothing happened while I was out. No landslides. No one writing to enquire about my work, my clients were happy without me, my colleagues celebrating the rare quiet.

And today, I returned to WordPress, expecting some sort of recognition–people looking for me, wondering why I wasn’t writing, returning compliments, commenting on others’ website…

Nothing again.

The silence was disquieting, to say the least.

The fact that my being out didn’t make a difference was a blow to my self esteem. As someone who has dedicated herself to work to the point of being called obsessed, it reminded me I ain’t so important; that the the world will not come to a sudden stop as soon as I step out; that I can take out precious time to spend with those who love me, including myself…

…so that I can come back with a smile…like today.

Good morning, world!

Posted in Random Thoughts

My Neighbours: The Wrestlers

Posted on by Shaily Agrawal

Coco and Dora move towards their individual corners glaring at each other.

My brother-in-law (pet-parent-in-chief) had just run in shouting and pulled them apart yet again.

The fact that they are currently sharing the same food and water bowls willingly seems to have diminished in the light of their obsession over the same pink kitty toy. Earlier today they had been touching noses and kneeding each other like dough, but it seems silly to remember such cute little things right now.

Coco sits in front of the bedroom door, blocking the entrance, while Dora sits in the money plant, claiming her throne. This is a battle of dominance. Their chests heave as my daughter gives each of them individual pep-talk before the next round.

Mentally, I can hear the gong and can almost see my daughter walk around with a board of round 9.

Suddenly, Dora spurts into a sprint, tags Coco full in face and launches herself in the bedroom behind her.

Coco lunges after her. They dole out punches after punches, kangaroo-style. Dora is only three months against Coco’s five. But she is not ready to back down. The room is completely devoid of any sound, save our breathing as the two cats take turns to jump on eachother from corners, pinning eachother.

One of them let’s out some kind of screech. Pet-parent-in-chief comes running back in, pulling them apart.

And forgets to remove the toy from vicinity. Sigh!

Author’s note: Our previous princess, Coco, had recently come home for a 4-day-and-night foster-visit and there was several battles of dominance in our house with our reigning princess, Dora. I was lucky to witness some, though missed filming them. May be I will get CCTV installed and start something like “Big Brother”.

What do you say?

Posted in My life, Random Thoughts

Eye-Eye, Doctor!

Posted on by Shaily Agrawal

A post from Colin McQueen recently made me relive my own experiences with eye tests. While most of the semantics matched to the point of continuous eye-roll, some points need further dissection.

When I went for my first eye test because of continuous headache on a cold winter day, I went alone, having no prior knowledge of the process. It was the only eye hospital in the city at the time. Since it was a couple of kilometers from my home, I rode my scooter to the venue and reached around 2 pm.

As everyone sat there waiting for the specialist to see us, someone came around and poured a semi-liquid in our eyes. Assuming it was an eye-drop of some kind, I didn’t ask questions. Instantly, everything went dark. I called out and was answered that it is a cleaning agent for our eyes. Who answered me–I am not sure. For all I know, it could be the janitor who was cleaning close by, .

After that, all I could see was light and darkness.

I could hear that people were being called by the appointment number but, for the life of me, I couldn’t remember what mine was. So, after waiting for the person right before me to move out of his seat, I moved on the next call, assuming we were sitting as per the number. Of course, I was sent back with a reminder to return on my turn. Both ways, I had trodden over half the competition, sure that it will make them call me next. But people were made of sturdier stuff back then.

After the third failed attempt to kill people on my way (After the first time, I couldn’t find toes to trod on. I think they had pulled their feet up on their seats as soon as I rose), I asked the “caller” to read my token and let me know my number. He grumbled about illiteracy in India and told my number in Hindi. I told him he will have repeat that in English because I didn’t know Hindi numbers that well. He then grumbled about people not taking pride in their mother tongue and repeated in English. I wondered if he looked like Amrish Puri–in that moment of complete helplessness and his absolute apathy, he sure sounded like him.

After what felt like an eternity (I couldn’t check my watch for the loss of sight and time always stretches out while you are kept in the dark), my number was called and my fellow patients sighed in relief as I stumbled across the hall to the adjoining room, making a point to step on the “caller’s” feet on my way.

There was a doctor, I think. I am not sure how he looked considering all I could see was light and darkness. I hope he looked like Brad Pitt but couldn’t tell him from Darth Vader at the moment. I also couldn’t tell him from Julia Roberts, but his voice seemed male, so I am assuming the gender here. I was told to sit on a high stool. I had to ask where it was.

He gave me some directions that I felt through my fingers and reached the seat. He asked me what was wrong with my eyesight. “Well, I can’t see anything except light and darkness.”

“And how long has it been?”

“Not sure. Half an hour? As soon as I came to the hospital and they poured something in it…”

“No, I mean, what was wrong before you came to hospital?”

“My scooter wouldn’t start in the morning. And I can’t use the kickstart–it hurts my leg, so I had to call the neighbour since dad was out…”

” No, I mean what’s wrong with your eyes?”

“You tell me–you are the doctor.”

He sighed, “Why did you come to hospital in the first place? And I am not the doctor. I am an assistant.”

“Oh! Sorry. I constantly have headache.”

“Can you please read at the alphabets on the board?”

“Where is the board?”

“In your front.”

“I don’t think I can.”

He got up and did something to the board. The fact that I could see him get up and reach the board made me happy–I could see a little further away. Though I still couldn’t tell if he was tall or short–he was a blur moving towards another brighter blur.

“Can you read the Akshar (Hindi alphabets) on the board?”

“Sorry, I can’t.”

He sighed and mumbled something about not going by the looks.

He then told me put my chin on something. I was too short, so he readjusted and told me to look straight ahead without blinking. I realised that some of my vision had returned and I could see objects close to my nose–something that looked like high-tech binoculars. His face was six inches from mine behind these binoculars.

I wondered if his vision was okay, considering he needed such a contraption to look at me…

Before I could try to understand how he actually looked like, he told me to concentrate on the red dot–but I like green better and there was a green dot too. So, I had a hard time looking at the red dot while ignoring green, and at the same time not letting it slide out of focus completely (his orders). Obviously, he had to take that reading several times until I could feel his patience waning. He finally told me he will flash a light and not to blink–but of course I blinked.

It seemed like he was beyond caring now and sent me to the next room with a slip.

As I stumbled into the next room, a pot-bellied doctor awaited me with a smile that told me he was ready to pack up. That I could make out his smile and pot-belly clearly gave me the confidence that the damage to my eyesight wasn’t permanent. As he looked at my readings from the previous room, he asked me to tell him what I see on the board. Again.

The flash in the eye seemed to have done the trick though. I could actually see everything on the board, though the colours felt a little blurry and whitish on the ends, and what I saw made me frown–it showed no letters but circles with random open ends meant for illiterate people who could read neither English nor Hindi.

I guess the slip did contain the part about my not being “able to read” the board. Sigh! I “read” the last line for him. He smiled and told me I should try to worry less and put less pressure on my brain, which seemed to be causing the headaches and dismissed me.

As I reached the main door of the hospital, the “caller” asked, “Hey, where is your attendant? Are you alone?”

Now he notices! “Yeah, I drove myself in.”

“I think you should wait a couple of hours before leaving. The sun’s glare is blinding outside.”

I had had enough of him by now. I couldn’t allow someone who sounded like the epic villain to stand between me and my freedom, “I can see now. I’ll be fine.” And I walked into the shaded parking and rode my scooter out in the sun. And immediately cursed myself for being short with the “caller”.

I couldn’t go back in while also I couldn’t see anything in front. The sun’s glare was truly blinding, thanks to the eye-cleaner. My home was on the way where sun would continuously be in my eyes. But I couldn’t stay put because my mom would worry. I had no way to inform her–mobile phones were too expensive and I didn’t carry one. There was no phone booth around.

I flinched at every bump of the way, praying it wasn’t a living being. If they were, well, they never called the police on me. I wondered how much of the world’s population problem they had solved using this formula.

How did your first eye-test go?

Posted in Fiction, Nature stories

My Neighbour: The Exasperated Princess

Posted on by Shaily Agrawal

Is our cat weird?

Or is it because she is ours?

Author’s note: All incidents in this story are real and told with the least possible artistic liberty as possible.

Why do they have to change the bowl again? The water tastes all wrong! I don’t understand all this craze about different coloured water bowls.

First, it was shiny silver. I hated it. It tasted too sparkly clean.

Then it was white and red. It didn’t taste anything like red, just plain white!

So, I drank from Dadi‘s foot tub. It tasted amazing with a green undertone! But then Dadi stopped leaving water in it. What is wrong with these humans?

That is when I moved to the bathroom floor. It has such an earthy smell, and the roughened tiles tickle my tongue. Initially, the humans tried to keep the doors closed. But I refused to drink anything at all.

Finally, a couple of them started letting me drink from the bathroom floor, throwing fresh water on the floor for me to drink when no one else was looking. The best part was that the water tasted different, based on the soap and shampoo they were using. They tried to scrub out the fragrance but couldn’t do it entirely. I was so happy!

But then, I think I went a bit too far.

You see, mom (my real mom who taught me all things worth knowing) once told us of the time she drank from the toilet–the devine taste, sense of adventure, the rush of adrenaline at having to drink upside down… Well, I thought the toilet was right there for the taking, so I did what any cat worth her mice would do–I tried to drink too.

Honestly, I only managed to get on the rim of the commode. I was peeking in, looking for a way to get to the water without getting soaked, but that dratted Tai Ammi caught me before I could reach the water. Didn’t even get a sip!

Now they have started locking up the bathroom door all the time! They also called me “Bad Kitty” for drinking from the toilet! I don’t call them “Bad Kitty” when they drink all the black and orange sparkly water that makes your tongue go all tingly! (Well, I had to try it, so I licked a couple of drops from the floor. Ugh!)

Well, why can’t they give me the same space!

Sigh! I don’t understand humans. There is water lying around everywhere, fragrant and calling, but they have to drink tasteless stuff from bottles!

Next, they got me a food tray with a large and flat water area (since I was drinking from the floor). As if I care about a bunch stupid cockroach-sized animals waving at me from my food plate! I couldn’t leave any food around, afraid they would steal it behind my back! So, I declined to drink from it too. They forced me but I was resolute.

And then the neighbours gave them a plant. Since they didn’t have a pot and earth for it ready yet, they planted it in the brown mug with water. God! I love this stuff! The plant makes it taste exotic. I couldn’t stop myself and just had to take another sip and another, until I was always going back for more. When the little one spotted me in the act and started giggling and complaining, I thought this was it–the humans would take away my private heaven. But they all just sighed and went back to work.

So, obviously, I thought I got away with it.

Boy, was I mistaken! A couple of hours later, they bought a red earthen pot for me to drink in. Well, it did recreate the earthy smell well, but it didn’t have the wonderful brown flavor to it like the mug–plant water does taste good. I would have turned vegan, had my constitution allowed. So, I continued sipping from the plant mug to make a point.

So today, they moved the plant into my earthen pot and gave me the mug to drink!

Blasted people! When will they ever learn?!

Psst… About the toilet water, may be, it is an age-restriction thing. I inspected the commode again and the bowl seems to be built deeper, so you have to have a longer neck to drink. May be, I will try again next month. If nothing else, I will jump straight in. I’m not afraid to get my feet wet in the face of an adventure!

Author’s note: There is no greater happiness than seeing your children happy. I asked my daughter–now 9- years old and a fast reader–to be my first audience. The way she guffawed while reading was worth all the effort.