Thirty One

Posted on August 13, 2007

6


An offkey Hawa mein udta jaa-e, mera lal dupatta malmal ka, oh mera lal dupatta malmal ka, with an untrained waver at jaa-e and lal, broke him into consciousness.

It was interspersed with the sounds of the Godrej opening and closing.

Hawa mein udta jaa-e, mera lal dupatta malmal ka, oh mera lal dupatta, the eyeliner traced the left lid, followed by a slower paced, softer malmal ka. Ho jii, Ho jii. The right eyelid.

It then hit a low note, when the singer clasped her pallu with her chin, safety pin in mouth. Hawa -ein udta jaa-e, -era lal du-atta -al-al ka. Ho jii, Ho jii. Today’s saree wasn’t starched, or he’d have to get out of bed, crusty-eyed, and set the pleats. He heard the jewelry box open, and the rattle of bangles. Hawa mein udta jaa-e, mera lal, the pause for lipstick, dupatta malmal ka, oh mera lal dupatta malmal ka. Ho jii, Ho jii.

Hawa mein

What is the next fucking line? At least sing that in tune.

Silence.

And then through lips fighting instinct came the subdued Hawa mein udta jaa-e, a testing silence, oh mera lal dupatta malmal ka.

Silence rustled by in hurried footsteps.
The door shut quietly.

Have a nice day at work, sweetheart.

Posted in: Prose