I came back to bed. I didn’t want my father’s chapter in my life again. No father
is better than a bad father. Plus right now I had to deal with another father, who
had folded his hands to keep me away from a daughter I so badly wanted to be
with. And I have Bala and loser flatmates and psycho landlord and horrible
sambhar smells everywhere in this city. A dozen random thoughts spilled out in
my brain right before going to bed. These thoughts swarm around like clumsy
fishes, and my poor little brain begged – guys, I need some rest. Do you mind? But
the thoughts didn’t go away. Each fish had an attention deficit disorder. The Bala
thought showed visions of me jabbing him with something sharp. The Ananya’s
dad thought made me think about a dozen post-facto one liners I could have said
when uncle folded his hands – But I love her, sir; But you should get to know me,
uncle; You realise we can run away, you Hindu-reading loser.
Some people are lucky. They lie down, close their eyes and like those like
those imported dolls your Dubai relatives give you, go off to sleep. I have to shut
fifty channels in my brain, one click at a time. One hour later, I had shut the final
thought of how I’d admit I taught housewives to play with radioactive stocks.
nora
(Nora)
#1