Finding our feet

These long and awful days at the plant are protracting still.

9 pm and I am just about done for the day.

Me, my mild OCD and my wife - we live without complaints in our 900 square foot flat that smells of incense

and earthy, vegetarian fare on most days.

Neat, tidy.

"I'm home."

A tall glass of orange-y Tang.

A few moments of unfamiliar silence while you nervously flit from room to room.

You gesture me to follow while I relive a strange anecdote starring my boss.

You are discreet as you arrange strewn-about things the particular way I wish them to be - distracting me with animated facial expressions for every twist in the tale I'm telling you.

I'm careful not to let my eyes follow your hands and what it is they are doing.

You're encouraged; you know your diversions are working.

You smooth out the sheets and fold our blanket when it's your turn to engage me in a wide-eyed narration of the day's events.

The items of clothing that hang suicidally from your shoulder tell me you've just picked 'em up off the floor and other places. Into the machine they go - out of sight and mind.

You're relieved when you look at me - you're beaming.

How well you know me, darling.

Yes, absolutely nothing is out of place to tick me off today.

Not a thing to point out to you... yet I notice...

The blades of every ceiling fan in the house,

presently spinning to a halt, in concert,

even as I nod away, at your exploits in the supermarket.

Empty bottles stashed by the water purifier.

All emptied out, then left unattended

till mere moments ago.

Flyaway paper bits, scribbled notes, print-outs

- your academic pursuits -

peeking from underneath today's daily.

Two turkey towels shoved hastily,

still damp from your late shower,

into the guest room cupboard.

How well I know you, my beloved.

You are disarray, come alive.

You are chaos, in the flesh.

Yet you are the yin to my yang and you're making me better.

And how I thank you, for trying so sincerely.

So tirelessly.

I'll fill these eight empty bottles and continue talking... dissolve that guilt on your face with more accounts of my coworkers... dissolve some of my own, while at it.

I'll leave your notes untouched, like I never saw them.

As for your towels, I hope you will find a less weird hiding place next time.

Vignette

The haze of brown that I was not really looking at thus far, slid all of a sudden into focus. Before my eyes, a tacky frame, crammed with fake croton plants. My entire being ached to remain in the bittersweetness of the reverie playing in my head.

I let my eyelids fall.



Yellow rain.

Tens of thousands of tiny yellow leaves. Dried out... yet soft when they fall on your face.
A long stretch of street, dotted with houses the kind that are not occupied for most parts of the year but look tremendously inviting.
Sparing a mason in the distance, the street is dead.

Muffled sounds of barely intelligible words. Two voices; arbitrary excited cries. In progress, a game of 'catch me, won't you?'. 
Much running, dodging and the sweaty foreheads of lovers, far too much in love.

Alas, their last day together.

Two young, absolutely clueless kids. Scruffy.
With leaflets in their hair like yellow snowflakes.

He was always too quick for her. 
So, with the winner of the contest now declared, they sit down. 
He takes her hand and puts it to his burning forehead. 
She puts on a great show of courage and pats his arm. 

Wordlessly, they mourn their togetherness.

A brief passage of time before they are up and facing each other.

Walking away without looking back even once was agreed upon after much rational "talk".
Seemed doable at the time. 

The parting shot: sign language for "All systems go" and a couple of brave smiles.

When, after a bit, he couldn't hear her footfalls anymore - he ran his hands desperately over his mismatched clothes for something she may have forgotten or left behind on his person... 

Zilch.

And there she was, walking cheerlessly, like a child who had let the heartless wind snatch her favourite coloured balloon away.

She bawled as she sat in a tuk-tuk. She covered her entire face in her scarf and bawled loudly. The unbearable noise of the vehicle was drowning out every last one of her cries of protest.
For reasons he couldn't understand he felt angry. It wasn't the ground that was shaking beneath his running shoes. He knew it was him. 
She wouldn't hear him now even if he bellowed.
She never once could.

It was over for these two.
Because life is cruel and fate is...well... such.

***

I open my eyes I and I see the constituents of the fake garden - the pride of my workplace - are all but a blur. I look down at my notepad and with an uncontrolled immediacy, two large teardrops crash onto the graffiti and splash against my elbows that extend all the way to my forehead - my moist fingertips quivering against my rapidly pulsing temples.

Tear-free, my eyes see clearly once more.

Autumn, again.
How many years has it been?

I need coffee.

Bad, pantry coffee. The sugar content, its only plus.

16 floors above the ground, I meditate on an idea. A powerful one that, at best, has you wishing for a time machine; and at its worst, chips away at you from the inside, out.

The weak paper cup I had been sipping coffee out of, had left a stain beneath.
With the blunt end of the pencil I compulsively carry everywhere, I tortured that bulging ringlet of coffee at the base of my cup into spelling out a word

NOSTALGIA

Summer Love

It had been a while since I'd gone to that part of town...
...since I'd seen the building where he and I spent that one summer together.



Somehow, it didn't feel the same. Nothing was magical about it anymore.

Walking down that road, I found it hard to believe that there was a time when I'd put everything on hold and dash halfway across town...
to this building...
to walk through that painted wooden door...
to see him...

He felt so cold against my body that would be sweaty from all the running, warm under all that make up and all those layers of black clothes.

We hardly ever talked.
I loved it.
What would I say to him anyway? Discuss school?
I only remember this...
Our lips.... the cold spreading through my body... and then goosebumps.
It became routine. Like a drill, almost.
I loved it.
I had had my first orgasm.
I kept going back there, everyday.

He still lives here, I've heard. I'm sure he's found so many giddy girls since me.
I will just be that delirious 17 year old to him who was obsessed with him once.Life goes on, no?
But it was not his fault anyway... None of it was. Looking back, I can only sigh.

At 17, I was sure I had found love and even more sure that he and I would last forever and for always (like in that Shania Twain song.)

Then one morning, I wasn't able to slip into my jeans quite as easily as I usually would.


The bump started showing.
My belly was getting bigger.
It didn't matter how much I cut back on Nutella.
I needed maternity pants. Soon.

I think she read the guilt in my eyes (or she figured there was something the size of a giant panda under my shirt) but at any rate, my mother was the first to talk to me about it.
I burst out. I confessed to her. My mum. I told her what I'd been doing all summer long.
She was calmer than I thought she would be when it all came out into the open.
She held my hand and walked me through the biggest screw up of my life...


My beer belly.

Courtesy: Beer @ Pecos.
Rs. 275 per pitcher.
Buy one, get one. FREE.

* * *

Now of course, I'm a lot wiser... older.
"That building" is just another building to me.
I'm blissfully married to Whiskey.
We've had a couple of babies ever since- Judgement Impaired and Puffy McCheeks.
They are my world.
We have a third one on the way... We want to name him Ugly Zit Jr.
Life is good.

* * *
Disclaimer:
All characters appearing in this work are fictitious.
Any resemblance to any biological process, natural or in-vitro is purely coincidental.

blood is thicker than w(h)ater?

So I was just thinking the other night (how I'm always thinking every night) and a wonderfully horrible thought occurred to me.

Its this hypothetical situation...

Say you're going about your life.... just about happily.... and on one sunny day, you come across this person... You talk... You get along... He/she is fun. You're loving the companionship and laughing more than ever before... You connect with each other... Long conversations and some beautiful moments later you realise you're falling for that person... 'Patience' isn't exactly your favourite word right now... A bundle of nerves that you are, you still muster up courage to tell the person how you feel for him/her (butterflies and jelly legs included) & he/she reciprocates, much to your joy. You are (understandably) on cloud 10.

So you go on dates... dine together... share laughs... and the physical intimacy grows... you fight... you make up...
Then you reach a point when you really want to take care of him/her... You become protective... Damn! You're totally falling in love... A few more years into your relationship and you realise you just need each other, forever...

You know you've found your soulmate...

And then in a dramatic unfolding of events, you find out you're both children to the same mother, separated at birth due to whatever reasons. You are related by blood. You are brother and sister.
And its 100% true.
What now?

No, I'm not a soap opera queen, but well, seriously, this just occurred to me...
and I'm totally clueless.
Just want to know how one would or should react to/handle/go about this 'situation'.

Would you still go ahead and marry that person? Should you?
Or would you forget all that has been happening in the past few years of your life?
If that were even possible, that is.
Would you be able to look at that person in this new light?
Would you still be able to hold on to your sanity?

Leave a reply to tell me what, how and why.
(I thought I'd do a poll... but its too complicated a scenario to put it in a yes-or-no format)