Z is for Zohra

why don’t you get married?

i like my life like this

who will take care of you when you get old?

i will

who will love you when you get old?

i will

who will provide for you when you get old?

i will

you are impossible

 i am!

This year, I'm participating in #BlogchatterA2Z  powered by theblogchatter.com

 

Y is for Yumna

 

 

“Why is Bhabhi praying now? The panditji will be here any minute for the pooja.”

“She`s reciting a prayer for Ma- I think it’s called a Fatiha.”

“But why? Ma is a Hindu- that too a Brahmin!”

Yumna folded her prayer mat and smiled, “Are you worried that Allah will grant her jannant instead of Bhagwan welcoming her in swarg?”

This year, I'm participating in #BlogchatterA2Z  powered by theblogchatter.com

 

O is for Ojaswani

 

“How can you do that? What will I tell Mohit? And my in-laws? My Mom is divorcing Dad after 32 years of marriage. Why Ma?”

She sighed, “you know why.”

“But Mom. What`s the point now? After 32 years. You might as well just hang on for…”

“Hang on for? For what? Am I not entitled to live my life the way I want to?”

“Of course, Mom. But like why divorce? Do your things. Don`t listen to him.”

“I want to live not survive and fight and sulk and…”

“He won`t let you leave. You know that. You have tried it so many times.”

“Yes, but I no longer have young children or old in-laws… there`s nothing to hold me back.”

“Have you told Vikki?”

“Not yet. I will text you my new address.”

“Mom, please don`t do it. Why do you have to do so much drama?”

“Standing up for yourself-even if its taken you 32 years- is drama?”

 She disconnected the call dejectedly and called Vikki.

“I am moving out beta.”

“Oh! When?”

“In another hour or so. My bags are packed. I have booked a cab.”

“You have a place to live Mom? You can stay with me.”

“I know. But I have my own place. As of now a barsaati. I am really excited.”

“Hahaha. I am sure you will make a home out of it soon,” he said softly. “Text me your address Mom. I will send you a house warming gift!”

She smiled as she disconnected the call.

 She picked up her bags and walked out of the house she had lived in for 32 years. The cab was waiting outside for her. She didn`t look back even once as she stashed her bags and the cab sped to the main-road.

She smiled. She was on her way home.

This year, I'm participating in #BlogchatterA2Z  powered by theblogchatter.com

 

 

 

I is for Inny

 

“We land tomorrow 4 am. I can`t wait to be home!!!”

Inny did a little jig when she saw Mini`s text. Well, much as she hated her sister, there were days when her heart ached for her Mini. Of course, she would never tell her that. 8 months back Mini married Amit and they went off to Singapore. It was such a whirlwind affair. They had met at some party and then just hit off. Trust Mini to do that. I mean she has always had guys following her like puppies and Amit was no different. Only this time the puppy seemed to have caught her fancy. So much that she said yes, the minute he popped the question just 3 months into their courtship. Most of which was online mind you.

Ma had been going crazy with her preparations. This was the first time Amit would be staying with them-for a whole week. Inny was to  move in Ma`s room- after all Mini now had a new partner.

 “Innyyy” Mini squealed the second she reached home. Inny laughed and did a little jig, She hugged Mini tight and looked warily at that groggy Amit.  He hugged her awkwardly. She felt his arm brush her chest and  she tried to wriggle away.

“Inny why do you look so shabby? You haven`t changed your clothes in a while?”

“No.I don`t want to.”

“Inny- what happened. Someone has been troubling you, my doll?”

Inny`s eyes welled up and she sobbed uncontrollably. Mini knew her so well. She  wanted to hold on to  Mini and never just never let her go. Her body wracked as she whispered, “Amit.”

“What about Amit?” Mini asked gently

" He took you away….”

“Shhh don`t worry.” Mini hugged her tight. The sobbing subsided. "I am here now. Come." Mini gently led her into the bedroom.

 Inny`s heart thumped thunderously as felt the room closing on her

“I can`t breathe Mini…”

“Shhh”. Mini spoke soothingly. “I am here only Ok.” She patted Inny and gently pushed her on the bed. " Come on Sweety. Deep breath. I am here. Come on. Deep breath."

Inny nodded. She felt a wave of calm washing over her as her breath settled.

“Now will you eat this for me?”  said Mini after a few minutes and  held out a couple of pills.

Then it dawned. So now Mini had sided up with Ma. Her eyes widened as her throat  closed again.

Inny whimpered. She pushed Mini and ran out in the balcony. Mini sighed and called out, : Inny, sweety please...."

There was a sickening thud. Mini froze. She knew. It was time up.

This year, I'm participating in #BlogchatterA2Z  powered by theblogchatter.com

 

 

 

Bindu

 

“Priya is dead. They killed her.” Sarita was shaking like a leaf as she ran up to her daughter

Bindu`s eyes widened with fear and her heart thumped against her chest. “What? How? Who killed her?” she squeaked.

“They did. I always told both of you to follow the traditions. You can`t do such things. Falling in love, taking your own decisions etc.   You have to stop meeting Amit.”

“But I haven’t seen him since last week and Ma he is a Hindu…”

“That doesn’t matter. He is a Chamar.”

“Ma please. You can talk some sense into them. Caste doesn’t matter. We love each other.”

“It matters”. Sarita muttered stonily. “I listened to my brothers and lived and you have to do the same…” She snatched Bindu`s phone. “I want at least one of my daughters to live. You cannot deny me that by falling in love with a Chamar.”

“Ma please! He is educated. We can live in Delhi or Mumbai or maybe Hyderabad. No one needs to know” Bindu pleaded.

“Priya thought the same didn’t she. And now she`s dead. But you are alive and I won`t let you die.”

The next day the headlines claimed-Prominent politicians newly-married daughter dies in a road accident.

Hordes of mourners crowded at their bungalow in the morning, expressing sorrow at the tragic death of their beloved Priya.

Bindu screamed and pleaded and howled. For days. And nights. And months. But she lived. They ensured she did.  

 

Chamar- a dalit community in India

 

 

This year, I'm participating in #BlogchatterA2Z  powered by theblogchatter.com

 

A is for A name

“Astha? What`s your take on Astha?”

“Meh…”

“Oh God Di! You are so difficult.”

“Listen, you don’t want to help me then just say so ok? I am not going to settle for any name just cos you can`t think of any   cool one !This is my opportunity. I get to choose my name. Can you imagine- choose your own name…I mean how liberating is that. I don’t have to be Bhavna anymore. I can be whoever I choose to be.”

“But Di who is stopping you from being who you want to be. Just by changing your name you won`t become a different person, will you?”

“Of course, I will. Imagine people calling me Myrah or Raina. I would be so so stylish and cool.”

“Di please yaar. Myrah is just angrezi mein Meera and Raina is a twisted Reena. I don’t understand why are you so hung up on this.”

“Well, you won`t ever understand so stop trying to make sense of it and google a few more names beginning with A.”

“Why only A? We can look at other alphabets too na?”

“No, we can`t. Vikas said that their Panditji has said the bride`s name has to start with A. The stars will be perfectly aligned for a happy marriage then. Panditji suggested that my name should be changed and this is such a common custom in our community. Look at Ma. Everyone calls her Deepa but all her school friends and her maternal side call her Rekha na.  It’s a tradition and so as per this tradition my name will change too. After all I am going to be new person once I marry Vikas. Now you get it? Chalo look for some names now.”

“Di, what rubbish yaar. Just by changing your name you can ensure a happy married life. I mean really which world are you living in? And why will you be a new person after marriage? Why can`t you be just you? And are you saying Vikki jiju will change as a person too? If he`s going to change then are you sure you want to be with him. Aaargh! This is so dumb.”

“I don’t need your gyaan ok. Help if you want to, else go.  I will choose my name and then be whoever I want to be. It`s so nice of Vikki to actually ask me to come up with a name I like. His Mom had apparently said Aarti-eeks I don’t want to sound so holy. Vikki is so liberal and so is his family. I mean they are letting me choose a name for myself.”

“Well, if that’s what you want from life then so be it! What about Archana? Then everyone can call you Archie-that’s like so in”

“Archie- no. Reminds me of Harry and Meghan!”

“Aradhna? Arohi? Aakriti? Amita? Amrita?”

“No too old fashioned.”

“Di yaar. Ok then Ahaana? Or Aisha? Anya? Aalia?”

“No Aalia is too filmy. Everyone will think of Alia Bhatt. Hmm let me think about Ahaana.

You think I look and sound like Ahaana?”

“What do you mean Di?”

“I mean the name should suit me na. But what can Vikki call me endearingly? I mean if Vikki wants to call me out will he say Aha? or Aana .  Naah I don’t like this.”

“Di!! Let me give you a simple solution. You be who you are-Bhavna. Ask Panditji to suggest an alphabet which would be a perfect match for Bhavna and then let Vikki jiju change his name for you! Stars can be perfectly aligned from your end too, can`t they?”

This year, I'm participating in #BlogchatterA2Z  powered by theblogchatter.com 

 

 

 

                                                       The Painter

The little boy sighed. 

He tried so hard to colour inside the lines but no matter how he tried there was always some colour outside the drawing. Last week his teacher had scolded him and said sternly, " Why are you so messy and dirty? You can NEVER be an artist" His face had burned with shame as his eyes had darted fearfully all over his drawing book.

He was determined to do a good job this time. It was Naani`s birthday and  he had asked his mother to draw a big flower for him. He wanted to colour it in  shades of red and pink , just like those flowers that bloomed in Naani`s garden. But the colour., as usual, had spilled out. 

He still wanted to give it to Naani so in the evening when his mother told him that they would go to see Naani, he quickly folded the paper and slipped it in his pocket. Naani was sitting out in the garden and he ran upto her.

 "Naani," he panted as he handed her the drawing, " for you. Happy Birthday !"

Naani unfolded the paper and gasped. "Such a beautiful flower ! The  prettiest I have ever seen in my life! You are going to be a great painter" She traced the little blobs of paint scattered on the paper and hugged the little boy.

The little boy beamed with pleasure. He would become a painter!

I am taking my blog to the next level with Blogchatter’s My Friend Alexa Campaign.

 

Generosity

 

 

At the traffic signal, a hand stretched out from a car window. It held a paper bag dangling in the air. 

The little urchin ran across the road and gleefully grabbed it. He drooled as he saw a half-eaten burger and some limp fries. He walked back to the pavement and sat down when he spotted the dog. He smiled. He tore the half-eaten burger into two pieces and threw one piece to the lanky dog. 

There was always enough to share.

I am taking my blog to the next level with Blogchatter’s My Friend Alexa Campaign.

 The Story

He stood under the cold shower, eyes closed in a bliss,  he picked up the shower gel and lathered it all over his body. He loved long showers but today he did not have the luxury of doing so -his boss had just messaged him. 

I need 400 words on migrants-full drama, tears-the works. By noon. Today.

He walked to his wooden desk next to the French window overlooking the lush garden that his wife tended to so lovingly. The endless row of marigold danced joyfully even as the hot wind slapped them harshly. He booted his computer and called out, “Bahadur. Get me a shikanji. At least 6 cubes of ice. And keep some  beer in the freezer.”

He scrolled through a few websites, humming under his breath,  when he spotted picture of migrants. A bus bursting with passengers and their belongings , a man trying to scramble up the roof-top with a toddler clinging on to  his legs.

Perfect.

 He smiled.

This is going to be a great story.

I am taking my blog to the next level with Blogchatter’s My Friend Alexa Campaign.

Zeenia

Z is for Zeenia

Pappa has been gone for a week now. Silloo called from Toronto last night.

"Zeenia go and check the old house. See if you find the property papers there.We will need to settle . Did you find a will ?"

"No I don`t think he made a will Silloo.  He didn`t even know who he was , where he was. How would he make a will?"

"I have no option but to trust you.Check his cupboard will you ? I will call you next week again," said Silloo.

Zeenia opened Pappa`s rickety wooden cupboard. His faded white shirts were folded neatly next to a few old stained Payjamas.  She yearned for his presence when the sweet sickly smell of Ponds Talcum powder that he kept at the top shelf , hidden from plain sight, filled her entire being.She rummaged through the drawer, pushing aside a few rusted coins, dirty crumpled notes till she found the small wooden box. It creaked softly as she opened it and found what she was looking for. A huge big rusted key. The key to their house in the old mohalla.

She clasped the key and held it close to her heart as she slipped back to that terrifying day 30 years back. Mummy had collapsed and then Pappa had gone with her to the hospital in an ambulance. Silloo had shut the door and both the sisters sat huddled in a corner.Waiting. Soon it was dark and the lone bulb could do little to dispel the darkness in the house. 

"Silloo, I am hungry," Zeenia had whispered.

"There is milk." 

"Nothing to eat?"

"Maybe a slice of bread. Let me check."

"No bread also. There is a packet of parle-g. We can share."

Zeenia lips trembled as she tried to suppress the hunger gnawing her stomach.

"Dolly," Silloo whispered, Pappa will be home soon."

Tears ran down her cheeks. Silloo never called her Dolly. Only Pappa did. She knew right then that  something terrible was going to happen.

Silloo gave her 6 biscuits and a full cup of milk. But it was not enough. Never enough. She was always hungry.She wanted so much more.She finally fell off to sleep on the lumpy mattress, clutching Siloo`s hand for comfort.

It was still dark when the sweet sickly smell of Ponds talcum filled her whole body. She squinted her sleepy eyes as Pappa picked her up. She heard Silloo ask him, "Mummy is gone forever?"

"Shhshh we need to go Silloo. Hold my hand, "he whispered.

She could feel her body flap across Pappa`s shoulders as he locked the main door. 

30 years and not once did they go back. And now Silloo wanted her to go there for some property papers. How dare she ask me to face it all alone? But there was not much she could do. She shut the cupboard and walked to the window. She needed to breathe. And then she spotted Pappa`s rocking chair. She sat on it holding the key close to her heart and finally wept as she realised she was no longer Dolly. Only Zeenia.

You can read more about this family in my A2Z Challenge posts Aala and Eddie

Dear Readers..It has been a fun ride this month.I resumed blogging after a long hiatus and  enjoyed the challenge. Thank you for reading and appreciating. I will be seeing you all around. Take Care

Xerox

X is for Xerox



Xerox! You would think I am asking or telling you to make a copy of something. No I am not.

That`s my nick name. I am Xerox.

Yea that`s what everyone in my colony calls me. I have a twin sister you see.  Tapur. We are 13 now. Identical twins.  Only difference is that she is full 4 minutes 22 seconds older than me.Yet I am the Xerox and she`s the Original.

 Ma is the only one who can tell us apart. Baba calls us Tapur-Tupur. For him we are one. But Ma claims she sees us as two different girls. Yet she buys the same clothes, same shoes, same hair clips, same hair-bands, same socks for us. Identical. Only difference is the  colour. It is always pink or red for Tapur. I get yellow or blue or any other available colour. Even our school bags, water-bottles, tiffin-boxes, pencil-boxes, swimming gears are identical. Everything is identical.

Yet I am labelled Xerox! Why is Tapur Original?


Why ?

Vanessa

V is for Vanessa Girty

She frowned as she looked in the mirror. She could spot a gray hair struggling to slip out from her smooth high bun. She picked up her trusted silver scissors and snapped the errant hair as close as possible to her scalp. Now there, she looked prim and proper. She adjusted the scarf around her neck, tucked her white blouse neatly into her black pencil skirt and  pulled her skin-coloured stockings smoothly over her hairy legs. There was no time to shave this morning- not after she had to spend an hour cooking lunch for her useless brother and equally stupid sister. They were quite rigid about cooking duties.  Surely one of them could have exchanged the lunch duty.She was the one who had to leave early morning. Both the buffoons left for their offices only by 9:30 a.m. They could take over  the morning cooking but as stated earlier-they were buffoons.

She slipped on her high heel shoes-they killed her knees and back -but then they were an essential part of her and played a big role in portraying her as the formidable Miss V. Girty. She wore her maroon lipstick and patted some talcum powder on her neck and finally dabbed some eau-de-cologne. It was frightfully expensive- but she had to wear it, after-all she had to smell pleasant and not like some fisher-woman from the docks!

She picked up her boxy handbag and armed with her floral handkerchief she was ready for school. She glanced at her wrist watch. The huge dial held together by thick black straps showed 7:15 a.m. She was well in time. That snake Ganga won`t get an opportunity to act smart today. He thinks he can get away with his impudent behaviour. He jolly well knew that Miss Girty held the reins of the Accounts section and was now gaining favour with Mother Superior as well. But that did not stop him from trying out his strong-arm tactics with her. She knew how to crush such creatures under her pointy heels. Today she planned to eliminate him forever.She walked into her office at sharp 7:45a.m.

Soon Ganga walked in and slid the muster on her table and she skimmed through it. Mr J. Britto`s signature was missing. The next second Mr Britto materialised in her office and drawled in his sexy voice, “Good Morning Vanessa. Apologies. Can I have the muster please?”

Miss Girty got so flustered that she nearly dropped the muster on the water jug resting on her table. She just nodded dumbly and handed the muster to him.How she loved being called Vanessa! She wanted to flutter her lashes and act all coy but that Ganga stood there grinning like the cat who got the cream.

She knew that today she would have to sign his fraudulent requisition slip for 4 bulbs again!

p.s.  Yes it is  Miss Girty from Francesca and Ganga Prasad in my A2Z Challenge

Tarudi

T is for Tarudi



Dear Tarudi

I always believed you. Every time you told me. Every single day ."This too shall pass."

But it did not pass. Not for a single minute in all these 3 years.

I wish I had not waited for it to pass.

Had I known it would be so  easy, I would have not lived with disgust. Do you know how suffocating it is to be surrounded with so much filth, so much crap all around you ?

Why did you drill this acceptance, this complacency into me? I looked up to you Tarudi and you let me down.

So Tarudi, let me tell you You can do it yourself and not just wish, "This too shall pass."

Love

Saloni

Saloni

S is for Saloni


The Bin

Have you seen the big shiny bin  on the sidewalk?
Full of filth and crap .
The stink is gagging me.
It has to be emptied.

There comes the garbage van.


Dedicated to my late husband Sahil.
                                  From  Love and Life By Saloni.

Paawan

P is for Paawan


Paawan.
He traced the name delicately in his diary.He wanted to add a syllable to it. I.
And then he could be Paawani.

"Paawan," he heard his mother call out. The pen slipped from his hand. His heart thumped and he quickly closed his diary, "Yes Ma."

Omen

O is for Omen

The recorder crooned

"Silent Night Holy night.

All is calm,all is bright"

The night was cold.

The moon sliced into half by the bars

as he looked through the window.

It was a silent night

but the calm eluded him.

He threw the vase and it crashed

into smithereens.

The recorder crooned

Sleep in heavenly peace.

Neel

N is for Neel


"Mamma you got a neel again?"whispered little Aman as he gently moved his fingers on the ugly bruise peeping from under her blouse.

"Hmm," she nodded.

"You slipped again?"

"Yes"

"You should be careful."

"Yes," she whispered as she gathered her 5 year old in her arms.


Neel means Bruise in Hindi.

Marriage

M is for marriage



Peaches and cream is what he wanted

Coffee and chocolate is what he got.

He kicked and shoved and pushed

The bruises healed but the scars remained.

Francesca

F is for Francesca

Fanny straightened her knee length skirt and tucked her blouse and slid her feet into the black sandals. Much as she loved to strut in her pencil-heel shoes, she knew that it was these flat broad strapped sandals that would support her comfortably through the day. She opened the zipper of her sturdy black bag and checked if her wallet, pencil case and keys were in place. This was a routine every morning after had forgotten her keys twice in a row. She could not open her locker and had to manage her class without her copy of grade 4 Maths book.

“Mummy I will see you for lunch.”

 She bent and kissed her mother lying listlessly in bed.

“Ayah will come by 9. Don`t trouble her. And eat your breakfast and fruit Ok?”

 Her mother grunted.

  

"I better rush, its nearly 7:35 a.m."

Fanny walked briskly to school. She was nearly breathless, still she increased her pace as her tiny wristwatch inched to 7:45 a.m. She had to catch hold of the peon before he left with the muster at 7:55 a.m. and placed it in Miss Girty D`souza`s room. How she hated Girty!  Just yesterday she had berated Fanny in a high-pitched voice.

“Ms Benedict. Surely you know that the reporting time is 7.50 a.m. I have told Ganga Prasad to get the muster in my office only at 7:55. I give full 5 minutes of grace period. And still I see you hovering around my office at least once a week.”

“Sorry Miss Girty”, she had apologized in a small voice. “Ayah has not been coming and I have to help Mummy..”

“Miss Benedict, we all have problems.”

“Yes Miss Girty” replied Fanny as she hung her head in shame.

“Good morning Miss,” chirped a little girl.

“Good morning,” Fanny smiled vaguely and continued her hurried pace. Thank God for giving her the wisdom to keep away from her pencil heels. She would have never made it on time she thought as she entered the staff room at 7:51 a.m. breathing heavily. Ganga Prasad was already there waiting to clutch the muster and run to Miss Girty`s room. She gave him a triumphant smile, 

“Ganga Prasad, Good morning.”

“Good morning Missji", he mumbled. He hated it when all teachers reached in time and signed the musters. He would feel as if he had lost a match!

As Fanny walked towards her locker, she noticed the white sticker with her name F. Benedict had started to peel. I will replace it today she made a mental note. She kept her over-stuffed bag and pulled out her plastic tiffin-box and took a big bite of the jam sandwich and gobbled it down hungrily.She had a class in the first period and would get to sip tea only after that. She picked her math book, pencil case and the big wooden ruler as she shut the locker and pulled the key out and kept it safely in her pencil case. She walked out to the ground for the morning assembly.

“Hi Fans. Looking good,” leered Derek his eyes moving appreciatively from her face to her legs. 

She gave him a disgusted look as she continued walking.

“You coming for the mass this Sunday?”

She looked straight ahead and kept walking till she nearly bumped into Mr Britto.

“Hey Francesca, how are you this morning?” he gave her a big smile.

He was the only one who called her Francesca and this was the only time when she felt glamorous. Else she was content being Fanny. She felt her legs go all wobbly and clumsy and her tongue was thick as she tried hard to muster a cool off hand, "Fine."

 Dennis Britto was a charmer and knew the effect he had on the gullible Miss Francesca Benedict. He winked at Derek who scowled back. Derek hated this slimy creature. What the hell was appealing about this snake? Fanny really was daft, he muttered.

 “I will see you in the interval Francesca. Keep one jam sandwich for me, will you?”

Fanny was delirious. How would she plod through the next four periods she wondered? She wanted to kick herself for not wearing her pencil heels. From tomorrow I am going to get up early so I have enough time to walk in my heels to school, she pledged silently.

Eddi

                                E is for Eddi (pronounced Ed-di)

Eddi picked up the frayed diary and flipped through the pages. He couldn`t remember why he had picked up the diary. What was he looking for? He frowned. Maybe someone`s number? But whose? He paused and looked around in confusion. Maybe he had to look up someone`s address? But why? Did he have to visit someone? Or maybe write a letter? He shook his head trying to jiggle and get his memory back in its rightful slot. Nothing. He still couldn`t recall. He sat down on the wooden armchair with the diary still in his hand. This time he flipped slowly and spotted an old photograph. Eddie looked at the black and white faded image with white patches. He fumbled for his glasses hanging from a thick white string around his neck and peered at the picture. He couldn’t read. He wiped the glasses with his vest and tried again. This time he could read “Eddie and Aala, June 1, 1956.” 

Pappa , shu karu thu ? Dolly called out.

“Nothing. Just was …”, he stopped. What was he doing?

Dolly walked up,”Where did you find this picture? Your wedding day.”

“Is it?” He looked at her questioningly.

“Yes. You look good Pappa.” She plonked a kiss on his forehead and slipped the picture back into the diary. She picked up the chipped tea cup from the table. God knows why Pappa wanted tea only in this cup. Most days he lived in a haze yet he cribbed if she got him tea in another cup.

Eddie looked out of the window desperately trying to remember his wedding day but nothing would come. Not even one fragment. He sighed. There was no point. He got up and walked to his cupboard and pulled out a shirt.

“Pappa what are you doing?”

Eddi did not reply as he silently slipped on the faded blue shirt. Dolly walked in the room holding a pan, “You think I won`t know when you open the cupboard. Come on. Sit here.” She pushed him on the bed. 

“You know you can`t go alone. The doctor has said no.”

“What does the doctor know? I am fine”

“I will take you later. Let me finish my cooking.” Dolly said sternly.

Eddi glared at her but did not protest. He sat quietly for a few minutes. He heard the cooker blow whistles and then heard the tap running. Dolly would be washing utensils and this was his opportunity. He slipped out of the door silently and walked briskly. Even at 82 he was agile. He could even sprint a bit if he tried. Only Dolly believed he was incapable of doing anything without supervision. Some days she even insisted on feeding him, specially a curry or dal.

‘You will drop it all over the place Pappa.”

 But the days she urgently needed milk or eggs or bread, she  conveniently forgot the doctors instructions .She is just like her mother. Aala. He stopped in his tracks. The picture flashed in his mind.  Aala. His wife! How could he have forgotten her? The witch. He kept walking as memories came flooding back, a kaleidoscope of images nearly blinding him. He slowed his pace as he recalled sitting in his tiny one room flat in Khorshed Bagh.

“Eedu, just think about it. Her father has 22 properties in this city only. And some in Bahruch also. He will divide his property among the 3 daughters. At least 7 she will get.”

 Mamma was always good with numbers. Eddie sighed. Mummy was right. He must overlook bow legs, big bulbous nose, bulging hips. All of it. Aala could be his ticket to prosperity. The wedding was a simple affair. Mr Sooi was old and in a wheelchair. He wanted a court marriage for his daughter. “Whatever expenses we save I will give you in cash”. Aala was happy to get a husband and Eddi didn`t mind the cash. He wore his only suit for the wedding while Aala struggled to look pleasant in a beautiful ivory saree with multi coloured rossettes. They clicked that  picture after the registration at the local studio. 

The first couple of years were alright. They were blessed with 2 daughters. But soon after that Mr Sooi passed away. Without a will. And then began the tussle for his properties, house and bank locker. The 3 sisters filed cases of forgery and cheating against each other. The court battle started and dragged on with claims and counter claims. Aala would spend hours searching for papers, statements, property deeds and wait outside lawyers office trying hard to understand their gibberish. Eddie took over cooking and cleaning which had never been his forte and slowly life crumbled. The house was soon a stinky hole with dirty, sticky jam and ketchup bottles, stale bread and soggy biscuits. Every morning Eddi would buy 4 eggs and one packet of milk. He would meticulously place one egg on the wooden table for Aala and 2 eggs for his daughters near the stove. The milk packet would lie in the empty fridge till it was slit open to make ovaltine for the girls and milky tea for himself. The cobwebs in the house increased and the fine layer of dust soon became a thick blanket covering every corner of the house. Aala continued with the paperwork as Eddi struggled to plod through the days. Later Taadi became his beloved partner and most evenings he would lie sloshed in bed, too dazed to even eat the scraps of food Aala placed on the table. He couldn’t recall why they fought, but  most evenings he would stumble out of the house and Aala would scream, "Arrey ******** ! You have spoiled my life.”

The two girls Dolly and? And ? He wracked his brains. He couldn’t remember the other girl. He had hit a wall again. He looked around. He was in the middle of a huge garden. Eddi saw a wooden bench nearby and went and sat there. He could hear the faint siren of the ambulance and he remembered climbing in the van holding on to someone`s hand. Who was that? He squinted his eyes and tried hard  to concentrate. He was tired. He just didn’t want to push himself to remember. Maybe some things were best forgotten.