The partner comes home after working out really hard at the gym. Who knows what he did, he reveals to me that there’s incessant pain in both hands/elbows. And with all that soreness he is unable to move his arms as usual. Every time he tries to the ache shoots up. Amma watches his expressions intently all evening long. After a lot of observing, she turns to the sister and wonders, out loud, what has happened to him. My sister wears a puzzled look and tells Amma to ask him if he bench pressed too much.
“Bench what” says Amma.
I turn to the partner and tell him that Amma has a question for him.
“What is it, Ma?” he asks her.
She glances around and inquires, hesitantly,
“Is something wrong with your ankle?”
And all of us take a minute to process her concerned words and then roll on the floor laughing.
Amma is using the tablet to watch some videos. The charge on the device is falling fast. She turns to me and voices her point,
“This is plugged in. I did it in the morning; still, it doesn’t seem like it is charging. In fact, the charge is being drained. It started off few hours ago with more than 40%, now it’s only 25%.”
“Is it really plugged in, Mother? Check the wall socket.”
“It is! I checked and double checked everything.”
I walk over to inspect – I find that the charger is plugged in to the wall and it seems like it is connected to the tablet too. I wiggle the charger out of the wall socket. Did it help? No. I plug it in to a different socket. Did that help? No. I take the tablet in my hand and notice that the other end of the charger is not pushed into the port but between the tablet and its cover. It just looks like it’s plugged in when seen from far, when in reality it’s only jammed in somewhere, which nowhere near the actual port. I show it to Amma and her reaction is priceless.
“I thought I did it right, she says, it’s my eyes you know, getting worse by the day,” she concludes.
The partner, Amma and I settle in the living room once we finish dinner and do some cleaning. After a while, the partner gets up to go to the kitchen. As he walks away, Amma turns to me and whispers her trepidation
“Ask him not to touch the pan on the stove. It’ll still be extremely hot.”
“Mummy, why would he go there and touch the pan on the stove for no reason?” I ask.
“Well, I don’t know. What if he gets overly curious? You never know…better warn him than let him get hurt, right?”
To date, just the thought this incident brings loads of laughter…I fail to understand why she thought, at that moment, that the partner’s curiosity is such that he will walk into the kitchen to put his hand on a hot pan.
Rocks molded over time
by the ever-patient flowing water –
permanence of love.
Posted in Poem on November 18, 2013
The lost leaf
Disturbed by the
it lets out a cry
and calls for
to end its loneliness.
There comes the
with its jolly mirth
echoing all around,
The leaf, now,
lifts itself up
from the depths
of the forceful
and flies around,
with its newfound
Posted in Random on November 15, 2013
Home alone, I mostly stay put in one room. That’s because I am such a coward. I find solace in settling in one place rather than walking around all over and scaring myself somehow (it happens, yes). So today, when I decided to work from home and the partner bid me goodbye, I choose the bedroom to be that room.
Suddenly, I hear noises. But then again, even the jingle of pin dropping at an instance of such silence will scare me, no doubt. Perhaps it’s the wood creaking. Perhaps it’s the wind outside singing frightening tunes. Perhaps it’s the refrigerator coming alive after a deep slumber. I console myself with agreeable explanations, and let it be.
Few minutes pass, and I hear what sounds like someone stomping on the kitchen floor. And this time, no matter what I try to express, my mind doesn’t fall for the trick. I push myself out of the bed and slowly walk down, still carefully listening to every little noise that comes my way. My own footsteps startle me. Yet, I put up a brave face and tread along. Right when I reach the last stair, an orange balloon comes into sight.
WHAT???!?!? Why is there a balloon idly cruising through my living room? Is the partner back home already? Or did he plan this for when he wouldn’t be around? Why a balloon though? And that too such a creepy looking one at that? This is definitely the partner’s handiwork.
A million thoughts run through my mind most of which accuses the partner for being the brain behind this prank some way or the other. But, in spite of all the possibilities that I consider, something keeps nagging me. Every little sound that I’ve heard since morning is magnified in my mind. I wonder if any or some or all of it is part of the plan. But what plan? Isn’t there a likelihood that it’s not the partner who is behind this? Then what? I heard footsteps, although there’s no one in sight. Should I be more worried? Where is my phone? Oh, it’s in the bedroom. I run back upstairs, with the orange balloon in hand, so I can get my hands on the phone; maybe I can try calling the partner.
As soon as I am in the bedroom, my safe place, I decide against making any calls. After all, if it is the partner’s idea to petrify me, then I am too proud to let him know that it has worked. I settle back on the bed and get back to work. In between, my mind traces back the happenings and I try to think of how I can get away, should this happen again. I consider jumping off the window, in case someone comes into the room. I consider walking out of the house right away and not returning until I can get someone for company. I consider this. I consider that.
Within what seems like eternity (but only a few minutes in reality), I hear another heavy thud downstairs. This time, unlike last, I get my phone before I step out and run down the stairs. I see no one. But there’s a candle that’s been lit. The flame sways blissfully as it always does, oblivious to the agony my heart and mind is racing through. I consider the chances of me lighting the candle when I came down minutes ago, but that’s easily erased by the fact that I never keep the candle on the floor, its place is on the table.
Not being able to think clearly about what to do next, I run for the door, along with trying to call the partner. He’s unavailable. I strongly feel, once again, that this is all his doing. I am going to call 911. I shout out with the hope that if it is indeed the partner, then he will come out before I do anything drastic. Within the blink of an eye, out of nowhere, a hand grabs mine and pulls my phone out. I scream, and open the door, just as I get glimpse of the person in the house. Thankfully, there are a few people walking on the street. I summon for help, because who I saw inside isn’t the partner. One of those good people that come to my rescue is my friend’s sister. While the others are busy handing me their phone so I can call the police and/or the partner, my friend’s sister steps in and starts a conversation with the perpetrator as though he’s her long lost friend. Do you know him? I ask. Yes, she says, and assures me that he means no harm. No imminent danger? You’ve got to be kidding me! He made me think of the possibility of jumping down the bedroom window. I yell. And my heart’s still beating loudly…
…even after I wake up. I dread going downstairs now. The ten minute afternoon nap is going to cost me my peace of mind for the rest of the day. Such a nightmare. Sigh.
Happy weekend, folks!
Posted in Poem on November 14, 2013
On the ocean
to let go
where I struggled
to stay afloat.
deeper and deeper,
gasping for air,
into the sea bed,
that has been woven
drop by drop,
or flowing with its
I tip-toe back
into reality -
with eyes, arid,
robbed of the,
with lips, serenely,