Thursday, March 29, 2007

And Swapnil tip toes

As she reached the end of the story, she put away the book. Jhumpa Lahiri, why does she not write merry tales, she sighed. She loved Lahiri's prose. In fact she would often go back to the short stories- Interpreter of maladies. What made her read them again, was the details that gave life to each character. Like in the story, Temporary Matter, when she describes Shoba.....

'She'd come from the gym. Her cranberry lipstick was visible only on the outer reaches of her mouth, and her eyeliner had left charcoal patches beneath her lower lashes.'

That is some description she thought. The color of the lipstick. Visible at the outer reaches of the mouth... like so often after a day's work. It gave life to Shoba, this woman back from work and then to gym and then back home.

There was more she had liked, the description of food and cooking itself.

Shukumar gathered onion skins in his hands and let them drop into the garbage pail, on top of the ribbons of fat he'd trimmed from the lamb. He ran the water in the sink, soaking the knife and the cutting board, and rubbed a lemon half along his fingertips to get rid of the garlic smell, a trick he'd elarned from Shoba.

It was all so nice to read, how Shoba would unclip her hair, pry in the kitchen without untying her sneakers. How wonderfully Lahiri brings out reality in fiction, Reena smiled.

But she had not liked reading this story today. She had put the book away with her brows knit in a strange expression. This story was about a failing marriage. About the birth of a dead baby, and how the parents then slipped away from one another.

Reena gently touched her tummy. It was still flat. She had not suspicious when she skipped her menses last month. But her gynacologist had whom she visited yesterday, confirmed that she had concieved. That was a tremendous news, she realized why babies where called a 'bundle of joy'. She felt a lump in her throat, she could just not speak. But she was beaming with joy.

She did not want to tell Yatharth this news over the telephone. Yatharth had gone on his office tour for a month. She would patiently wait, she decided. And then she wondered if they would have a baby boy or a baby girl. She remembered how Yatharth and she had once talked about babies and both shrieked... no way, we are too young to be parents!! And still they had started to talk about names. I will call her Samragyi, the empress, Reena had said. Yatharth laughed and said, she would become Sami to her friends and our parents would never get her name straight, so be ready for " Somu or Somi".. And if we have a boy, but no we will have a girl first, Reena chirped. Ah! do you want an army, Yatharth had laughed heartily. And then he said, we will have a boy, only child. Our dream. He will be ' Swapnil'.

Reena already was talking to Swapnil and telling him that she knew he had tip toed!

Friday, March 09, 2007

Reena Speaks!

Mornings are meant to be lazy. The early sun rays playfully disrupted Reena's sleep. She woke up. Hmm.. it's Friday today!!

She was now sharing a life with Yathartha. The days he went to work, were like days she went to work... and his Friday was like her Friday, what a thought , she exclaimed.

Yathartha was so true to his name. He was real, he was reality. He was no dream she was chasing in idle hours. He was no knight in white horse, he was who he was and she knew he loved her.

She rushed through the morning chores, went in kitchen and fixed his breakfast!! Ah, she forgot to peel almonds today, she realized after he had gone to work. It hadn't been a great start, she realized, she had broken one plate today. The smashed pieces were still lying on the kitchen floor. The clothes out from the dryer were still unfolded, the bed undone, the dishes of morning breakfast still dirty in the sink. She wasn't the Reena she thought she was. She would become soon though, after an hour or two. A few hours of her own, when she could be just her, with no responsibilities, when she could sit down and watch a movie that Yathartha wouldn't anycase, paint a picture, think about little children, and think about what she really wanted from life...

It was time for breakfast, she got up from her contemplative mood. Slowly she went about cleaning her house. Before evening, both she and the house would look welcoming. They had to! Because then he would come home.

She had pinned the poem she had written yesterday with a magnet on the fridge, this morning. I have read this before, Yathartha said. Yeah, it is similar, or well similarly written... in the same pattern... But that was not for you.. this one is...

Yathartha read the poem again..

The door bell rings..
I run and comb my hair

He's home now
After a day's work
I wonder how to please him


The kettle waits to sing tea time
I forget he doesnt like 'chai'
He holds me strongly in his arms
Lemme go, I will get something to eat

In kitchen
I lovingly cook

He eats with joy
No words are exchanged

Hmmm?? did you say anything!
nah.. it is good


what is?
everything

and he closes his eyes

ah...dont do that
why?
cause then it will spill out
what?
love!
love that you have gathered all in your eyes


Yathartha smiles and takes her in his arms . Ouch! you are squeezing me... And then they both remember, it isn't weekend yet. And they both rush, the plate gets broken, both are slightly angry... but then that's why goodbye kisses are meant to be! And the magic of the kiss lasts the day long!!!