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Creators’ Catalog I is a collection of nine selected stories compiled from the submissions of Creators Contest 2022. Held every year in the month of February, this year’s contest was required to have the following lines: “A knock on the door with a familiar voice calling out. Suddenly, all surrounding sounds drowned out, making the heartbeat get seemingly louder.” Open for all categories of submissions; this year’s collection has flash fiction, short stories and memoirs. The stories deal with themes like fantasy, experiences, war and compassion, with originality being the acceptance facet. |
Illustration by Renius Mercy
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VI: Inbound
A knock on the door with a familiar voice calling out. Suddenly all the surrounding sounds drowned out, making the heartbeat get seemingly louder.
It always begins with a knock. A knock followed by the harsh sound of a door slamming against the wall. A man enters, pads through the one-room like a monster on the prowl, eyes bloodshot-full with a drink. He corners the trembling child. His movements are slow and deliberate like a seasoned actor, theatrically pulling out a well worn brown leather belt. He holds it by the end, the golden buckle swinging in the air, threateningly and starts curling it around his fist. The shiny metal of the buckle reflects in his squinty eyes. He snaps it in the air, the sharp sound echoing in the small room, looking at and savouring the fear emanating from the child. More than the red welts shining on the skin, this is what he loves, what he feeds on - the palpable fear, the shining tears, the dead look in the eyes, the resigned acceptance of her lot in life. He hits the child where it hurts the most - over the wounds of yesterday and the day before, over the cigarette burns and over the fading bruises. Over and over again, the dance of terror continues. The power, the look of pure evil that sneaks into his eyes, the satisfaction of feeding on the pain of a child, a bare waif that can’t stop this barbarism because she just doesn't know better.
I continue watching from the sidelines. Can he look through me? Am I even in the room? Is this a dream?
The child wails curled on the floor, shielding her heart. He keeps kicking her, dragging her by the arms and aiming at her stomach. She shouts, “Not the bun! Not the bun!”
The man screams, “It’s not a bun, you dimwitted bitch! It's a baby, a good for nothing, dumb defective baby just like you. Now shut up!" But her whimpers continue.
I want to go help her up. Stop this man but I am frozen - mind and body stuck in limbo.
With a guttural scream, he grabs her by the hair and bangs it on the side table. And she finally falls silent. The only sound is that of the spilt water dripping from the side of the table.
He slumps off to sleep in a corner. Soon, soft snores and the rattle of the clunky window are the only sounds heard.
By the next morning, nothing changes. The man continues to lie spread-eagled with blood drying around his neck and on his face and a kitchen knife piercing his neck.
And I remember. I remember feeling the cold steel in my hand. I remember… I remember standing up with the support of the table and walking woozily then seeing his unscathed face and seeing red. So I doused him in red, took his own blood and painted his face.
No one has knocked on the door since.
It always begins with a knock. A knock followed by the harsh sound of a door slamming against the wall. A man enters, pads through the one-room like a monster on the prowl, eyes bloodshot-full with a drink. He corners the trembling child. His movements are slow and deliberate like a seasoned actor, theatrically pulling out a well worn brown leather belt. He holds it by the end, the golden buckle swinging in the air, threateningly and starts curling it around his fist. The shiny metal of the buckle reflects in his squinty eyes. He snaps it in the air, the sharp sound echoing in the small room, looking at and savouring the fear emanating from the child. More than the red welts shining on the skin, this is what he loves, what he feeds on - the palpable fear, the shining tears, the dead look in the eyes, the resigned acceptance of her lot in life. He hits the child where it hurts the most - over the wounds of yesterday and the day before, over the cigarette burns and over the fading bruises. Over and over again, the dance of terror continues. The power, the look of pure evil that sneaks into his eyes, the satisfaction of feeding on the pain of a child, a bare waif that can’t stop this barbarism because she just doesn't know better.
I continue watching from the sidelines. Can he look through me? Am I even in the room? Is this a dream?
The child wails curled on the floor, shielding her heart. He keeps kicking her, dragging her by the arms and aiming at her stomach. She shouts, “Not the bun! Not the bun!”
The man screams, “It’s not a bun, you dimwitted bitch! It's a baby, a good for nothing, dumb defective baby just like you. Now shut up!" But her whimpers continue.
I want to go help her up. Stop this man but I am frozen - mind and body stuck in limbo.
With a guttural scream, he grabs her by the hair and bangs it on the side table. And she finally falls silent. The only sound is that of the spilt water dripping from the side of the table.
He slumps off to sleep in a corner. Soon, soft snores and the rattle of the clunky window are the only sounds heard.
By the next morning, nothing changes. The man continues to lie spread-eagled with blood drying around his neck and on his face and a kitchen knife piercing his neck.
And I remember. I remember feeling the cold steel in my hand. I remember… I remember standing up with the support of the table and walking woozily then seeing his unscathed face and seeing red. So I doused him in red, took his own blood and painted his face.
No one has knocked on the door since.
VII: Memorable Moments with Grandparents
“It’s vacation time!”
Instead of going for a normal picnic with friends this time, I have decided to spend time with my grandparents in their native village. I was overwhelmed about this trip, so I quickly booked the tickets and shared my trip details with them over the phone; while speaking, I could visualize the sense of joy in their voice. When I reached the village train station, regardless of their age, both of them visited the railway station to receive their beloved grandson with so much love and affection. Believe me, the elders’ love is priceless.
We returned back home from the railway station in a bullock cart. That was the first time I was transported in that vehicle. Though it was very hot during summer, it was an enjoyable experience throughout our ride and very comfortable as well. On the way back home, my grandparents narrated various events & activities happening around so that I can get a feel of the rural atmosphere and as an urbanite; it was very interesting for me to know the little things. Everywhere it was surrounded by tall trees, huge mountains & little plants with beautiful flowers, just mind-blowing to see Mother Nature. We saw a group of people engaged in pottery activities and prepared porcelain, mud, and ceramic pots.
When I entered home, a small cat jumped and welcomed us by saying, “Meow”, surely one of the cutest creatures that can give company to old people. My grandmother gave milk to that little one and gave a hi-fi for welcoming her!
When I went out to witness the greenery, a lot of birds in the backyard were chirping melodiously & squirrels squeaking in and around the house. I was very happy to see the old couple, with beautiful hearts, feed all these creatures and maintain the tranquillity of rural life.
My grandpa walked a mile to get groceries & food items for cooking. Markets had fresh vegetables & dairy products that were directly sold by farmers at nominal prices. At least for a day, I was happy that I could carry the purchased items and reduce the burden for him. A special food menu was prepared by my beloved grandma on that day just to make sure that my arrival is celebrated and my tummy is filled with good food. Home food was served hot in clean banana leaves and everyone sat together on the floor to enjoy our togetherness. I thought grandma wouldn’t remember my taste & the foods I like, but I was very surprised to see the food menu and immediately kissed her with love. I recollected the lines I read somewhere, “Grandparents will always remember us even if we forget in our busy lives.”
We took a long walk to enjoy the scenery in the evening breeze and visited the famous nearby temple to offer some puja. In return, my grandpa showed me the farm field which we own and explained to me the various items that we grow in our field.
The moment they saw me using a smartphone, they were very curious to know about the gadgets in general since they had a simple landline to speak to neighbours/relatives, which was sufficient for their daily communications. I taught them to use smartphones and how they can use them to monitor their health, communicate immediately and take pictures of their farms & houses. I also insisted on using it, because they were staying alone in the village and needed some moral support at this age.
One fine day, a knock on the door with a familiar voice calling out. Suddenly, all surrounding sounds drowned out making the heartbeat get seemingly louder. It was none other than my grandfather knocking on the door in the evening when he saw the farm field drowning in excessive water and surrounded by insects all over the field spoiling the crops grown. I couldn’t see him at this stage so immediately wanted to help him out using the little technology I learned in my life. I used a motor pump to clear out all the water quickly and used a drone to spray the pesticides all over the place to kill the insects instantly. We washed all the crops again to make sure that it is fresh and back to normal with sunshine.
I taught him simple tech tips & how technology can be used to monitor the farm fields & agriculture process and also installed an app on his new phone which I gifted recently, to monitor the weather regularly and control the crop irrigation systems. It was pure bliss to see the smile on his face after saving his crops & land! I was blown away to see his curiosity about technology at this age.
I wanted to have a happy memory on the last day of my stay, so we took a selfie together and played some traditional games like pallangozhi, thayam & watched a movie together to cherish the good memories.
Finally, I came back to Chennai with lots of memories, experiences & learnings in agriculture. My recent trip really gave food for thought to create a revolution in urban agriculture. I formed a small team and started exploring the soil around, crops to grow, and efficient ways to do agriculture in city lands. During weekends, we conducted training sessions with nearby professionals and educated them to join us in this initiative. We also took steps to create awareness to all the youngsters & future gen people to take up farming as their hobby and spend their valuable time to change the future of agriculture.
One fine day, joyful to see my grandparents using the technology they learned to do a video call to my number, and in return, I talked about my recent initiative and showed the farmlands to them, they were so happy to see all the youngsters in farm fields along with me and blessed us for the future farming.
Instead of going for a normal picnic with friends this time, I have decided to spend time with my grandparents in their native village. I was overwhelmed about this trip, so I quickly booked the tickets and shared my trip details with them over the phone; while speaking, I could visualize the sense of joy in their voice. When I reached the village train station, regardless of their age, both of them visited the railway station to receive their beloved grandson with so much love and affection. Believe me, the elders’ love is priceless.
We returned back home from the railway station in a bullock cart. That was the first time I was transported in that vehicle. Though it was very hot during summer, it was an enjoyable experience throughout our ride and very comfortable as well. On the way back home, my grandparents narrated various events & activities happening around so that I can get a feel of the rural atmosphere and as an urbanite; it was very interesting for me to know the little things. Everywhere it was surrounded by tall trees, huge mountains & little plants with beautiful flowers, just mind-blowing to see Mother Nature. We saw a group of people engaged in pottery activities and prepared porcelain, mud, and ceramic pots.
When I entered home, a small cat jumped and welcomed us by saying, “Meow”, surely one of the cutest creatures that can give company to old people. My grandmother gave milk to that little one and gave a hi-fi for welcoming her!
When I went out to witness the greenery, a lot of birds in the backyard were chirping melodiously & squirrels squeaking in and around the house. I was very happy to see the old couple, with beautiful hearts, feed all these creatures and maintain the tranquillity of rural life.
My grandpa walked a mile to get groceries & food items for cooking. Markets had fresh vegetables & dairy products that were directly sold by farmers at nominal prices. At least for a day, I was happy that I could carry the purchased items and reduce the burden for him. A special food menu was prepared by my beloved grandma on that day just to make sure that my arrival is celebrated and my tummy is filled with good food. Home food was served hot in clean banana leaves and everyone sat together on the floor to enjoy our togetherness. I thought grandma wouldn’t remember my taste & the foods I like, but I was very surprised to see the food menu and immediately kissed her with love. I recollected the lines I read somewhere, “Grandparents will always remember us even if we forget in our busy lives.”
We took a long walk to enjoy the scenery in the evening breeze and visited the famous nearby temple to offer some puja. In return, my grandpa showed me the farm field which we own and explained to me the various items that we grow in our field.
The moment they saw me using a smartphone, they were very curious to know about the gadgets in general since they had a simple landline to speak to neighbours/relatives, which was sufficient for their daily communications. I taught them to use smartphones and how they can use them to monitor their health, communicate immediately and take pictures of their farms & houses. I also insisted on using it, because they were staying alone in the village and needed some moral support at this age.
One fine day, a knock on the door with a familiar voice calling out. Suddenly, all surrounding sounds drowned out making the heartbeat get seemingly louder. It was none other than my grandfather knocking on the door in the evening when he saw the farm field drowning in excessive water and surrounded by insects all over the field spoiling the crops grown. I couldn’t see him at this stage so immediately wanted to help him out using the little technology I learned in my life. I used a motor pump to clear out all the water quickly and used a drone to spray the pesticides all over the place to kill the insects instantly. We washed all the crops again to make sure that it is fresh and back to normal with sunshine.
I taught him simple tech tips & how technology can be used to monitor the farm fields & agriculture process and also installed an app on his new phone which I gifted recently, to monitor the weather regularly and control the crop irrigation systems. It was pure bliss to see the smile on his face after saving his crops & land! I was blown away to see his curiosity about technology at this age.
I wanted to have a happy memory on the last day of my stay, so we took a selfie together and played some traditional games like pallangozhi, thayam & watched a movie together to cherish the good memories.
Finally, I came back to Chennai with lots of memories, experiences & learnings in agriculture. My recent trip really gave food for thought to create a revolution in urban agriculture. I formed a small team and started exploring the soil around, crops to grow, and efficient ways to do agriculture in city lands. During weekends, we conducted training sessions with nearby professionals and educated them to join us in this initiative. We also took steps to create awareness to all the youngsters & future gen people to take up farming as their hobby and spend their valuable time to change the future of agriculture.
One fine day, joyful to see my grandparents using the technology they learned to do a video call to my number, and in return, I talked about my recent initiative and showed the farmlands to them, they were so happy to see all the youngsters in farm fields along with me and blessed us for the future farming.
VIII: The Yearning
TRRRRRRRRINGGGGG!
TRRRRRRRRINGGGGG
TRRRRRRRRINGGGGG!
Blared the alarm from the phone.
This alarm, just an hour before midnight, was a reminder for her that she should get to bed and end the day.
It was at that time that she heard a faint sound that seemed like it was the main door knob opening.
She wanted to go out to the living room and check if anyone had come into the house, but she was way too lazy to get out of her cosy bed. The next day was going to be a special one and she didn’t want to trouble herself.
She was supposed to be alone for the month as her flatmates had gone to their respective homes.
She went back to reading her book “All the light we cannot see”, a war novel about a blind French girl and a German boy who try to survive the devastation of World War II.
A little while after that, she saw a blinking light from under the door, it wasn’t natural but that didn’t seem to push her to get out of the bed.
She tried to put the distractions aside and went back to reading about how, during the war, despite the situations or circumstances that were in front of them, people tended to be very understanding and find ways to help each other.
She hears one more sound and is pissed with what’s happening outside her room, she texts on the flat’s Whatsapp group asking if anyone is home to which the others reply negatively.
She wanted to get back to her book, but the sudden thought of not having anyone around her got to her head and she started sobbing.
Being alone and lonely is different but when they both hit you at the same time, it is a combination that you’d never want to encounter. The deafening silence in the home until then and the sudden distractions with the sound, the light and the flow of thoughts that push into longing for someone or someone’s touch.
She couldn’t take it all. She pulled out her diary and journaled her feelings about the lonely feeling, the situations that brought her to the present juncture, the future, the plans, the schedules and the unending yearning to be with someone just to feel normal again.
She was lost in her thoughts when she saw a couple more flashes of light from under the door, she was convinced that the house was getting robbed or maybe someone sneaked inside the house.
She set aside her diary, pulled out her pepper spray from the bag and got out of the bed. She went to the door trying to listen to any noises on the other side of the door.
She heard whispers of a few people talking among themselves about knocking on the door.
A knock on the door with a familiar voice calling out. Suddenly, all surrounding sounds drowned out making the heartbeat louder.
She froze when she heard the second knock.
Firmly holding on to the doorknob, she slowly pulled down the latch without making any sound.
She took a deep breath. A drop of sweat trickled down her forehead over her cheek.
She turned the knob and slowly opened the door…
TRRRRRRRINNGGGG TRINNNNNNGGGGGGGG - The phone rang.
The moment she opened the door “ SUURRPPRRISSEEE SOBHITA!”, a group of around eight people shouted.
In a state of shock, fear and ecstasy, she sprayed the pepper spray right into the eyes of her best friend Sesh.
“HAPPY BIRTHDAY SOOOO!”
She broke down into tears looking at all the people around her and hugging every person who was there to be with her at that moment.
She apologised to Sesh and sat down “Thank you all, I’m blessed to have you all here with me now. You don’t…… and sobbed again clutching Sesh.
She couldn’t explain what it meant to her when just a few moments ago, the thought of missing people around her sent her into crying to suddenly having the best of her friends around in such a short time was magical and she couldn’t control her emotions.
She wasn’t feeling lonely anymore, not at least that moment when she was with all her friends.
Maybe there is a light that brings us all out of darkness and maybe that light is our friends, family or partners and if there’s no one, just like the blind French girl, maybe there’s a German boy out there waiting to help us out of the wreckage of a life that we are going through.
TRRRRRRRRINGGGGG
TRRRRRRRRINGGGGG!
Blared the alarm from the phone.
This alarm, just an hour before midnight, was a reminder for her that she should get to bed and end the day.
It was at that time that she heard a faint sound that seemed like it was the main door knob opening.
She wanted to go out to the living room and check if anyone had come into the house, but she was way too lazy to get out of her cosy bed. The next day was going to be a special one and she didn’t want to trouble herself.
She was supposed to be alone for the month as her flatmates had gone to their respective homes.
She went back to reading her book “All the light we cannot see”, a war novel about a blind French girl and a German boy who try to survive the devastation of World War II.
A little while after that, she saw a blinking light from under the door, it wasn’t natural but that didn’t seem to push her to get out of the bed.
She tried to put the distractions aside and went back to reading about how, during the war, despite the situations or circumstances that were in front of them, people tended to be very understanding and find ways to help each other.
She hears one more sound and is pissed with what’s happening outside her room, she texts on the flat’s Whatsapp group asking if anyone is home to which the others reply negatively.
She wanted to get back to her book, but the sudden thought of not having anyone around her got to her head and she started sobbing.
Being alone and lonely is different but when they both hit you at the same time, it is a combination that you’d never want to encounter. The deafening silence in the home until then and the sudden distractions with the sound, the light and the flow of thoughts that push into longing for someone or someone’s touch.
She couldn’t take it all. She pulled out her diary and journaled her feelings about the lonely feeling, the situations that brought her to the present juncture, the future, the plans, the schedules and the unending yearning to be with someone just to feel normal again.
She was lost in her thoughts when she saw a couple more flashes of light from under the door, she was convinced that the house was getting robbed or maybe someone sneaked inside the house.
She set aside her diary, pulled out her pepper spray from the bag and got out of the bed. She went to the door trying to listen to any noises on the other side of the door.
She heard whispers of a few people talking among themselves about knocking on the door.
A knock on the door with a familiar voice calling out. Suddenly, all surrounding sounds drowned out making the heartbeat louder.
She froze when she heard the second knock.
Firmly holding on to the doorknob, she slowly pulled down the latch without making any sound.
She took a deep breath. A drop of sweat trickled down her forehead over her cheek.
She turned the knob and slowly opened the door…
TRRRRRRRINNGGGG TRINNNNNNGGGGGGGG - The phone rang.
The moment she opened the door “ SUURRPPRRISSEEE SOBHITA!”, a group of around eight people shouted.
In a state of shock, fear and ecstasy, she sprayed the pepper spray right into the eyes of her best friend Sesh.
“HAPPY BIRTHDAY SOOOO!”
She broke down into tears looking at all the people around her and hugging every person who was there to be with her at that moment.
She apologised to Sesh and sat down “Thank you all, I’m blessed to have you all here with me now. You don’t…… and sobbed again clutching Sesh.
She couldn’t explain what it meant to her when just a few moments ago, the thought of missing people around her sent her into crying to suddenly having the best of her friends around in such a short time was magical and she couldn’t control her emotions.
She wasn’t feeling lonely anymore, not at least that moment when she was with all her friends.
Maybe there is a light that brings us all out of darkness and maybe that light is our friends, family or partners and if there’s no one, just like the blind French girl, maybe there’s a German boy out there waiting to help us out of the wreckage of a life that we are going through.
IX: Wakanda Forever
As a child, my favourite pastime was going for walks with my grandmother in my sweet home town and loved hearing the bedtime stories by my mother. These stories were mostly derived from the preachings of some wise holy men, whose sermons we often attended and few from the enlivening artforms of harikatha and burrakathalu which were staged during the festive seasons. Though having forty winks in between, a few stories made an indelible impression in my mind.
During one of the sessions, a holy man once said in a humorous tone, “There are only two people with eternal bliss of happiness, one who could digest his food within two hours of his supper and one who after a day-long work, dozes off with loud snores, absolutely heedless of the inmates of the room.”
The hall was filled with laughter, but I took some time to get it. With these golden tenets in my mind, I always tried to live a demure, simple yet happy contented life with my family for forty years, still enjoying going for walks and above all having sound sleep after all my household duties. Sound sleep was where I always slipped into the fantasy world of dreams which I account for avidly reading the books like Alice in Wonderland and other fairy tales that the 90’s kids usually read. Though I couldn’t really understand the subtle alchemy of my dreams and often wondered as a kid which ethereal place they come from, I eventually and more maturely tried to distinguish whether their origin was in my heart or in the encephalon, I cease to explain, maybe never can! But clearly, they made a deep impact.
One fine afternoon, after the daily devoir, I lay relaxed on my easy chair which I’m very fond of, for my siesta, alongside my french window in my halcyonic living room, when I heard a knock at the door with a familiar voice. I went and opened the door, quite surprised as well as exhilarated to see my Mom at my doorstep with lots of shopping bags from an Expo. I took her in with a gleam in my eyes and asked her for lunch, she told me she completed hers, so I fetched some coconut water for her.
Women and shopping are an inextricable combination. My sweet mom with her soft black hair and huge bindi was bustling in my living room, spreading her shopping bags on the sofa exhibiting all her felicity and I eagerly sat before her to have a look into what was inside the bags.
She took out a beautiful handwoven saree, I loved the colour, she evocatively let me know that she hadn’t bargained much since it was a direct sale by an old Mangalagiri handloom worker who is hardly accredited for his hard work. Later, she took out a cutlery set which we shared, then she came up with some doormats which were reasonably priced and she finally got to enjoy her bargaining spirit for the exquisite jute-cotton dining mats which were both cute and elegant. Lastly, she has taken out a few aesthetic terracotta pots for the kitchen and plants.
I really longed for some terracotta ear but suppressed my desire with a grin like a Cheshire cat. Perhaps, it is not easy for a married daughter to ask for and take from her parents. It was early evening, I made some tea and had biscuits, both of us loved this time of the day, and we chatted before she got up to leave. I went along with her to the porch and into the courtyard accompanied by the euphonious birds chirping and thin dulcet sounds of wind. She said goodbye and take care, turning back and walking. I wasn’t feeling deserted but when I saw her glasses in my hands, I ran my way out to stop her but she didn't seem to listen to me calling out to her and I screamed like a little girl but was quite appalled when she took no notice. I tried to run fast but then something stopped and stopped me like a wall. Yes, it was my dupatta pinned onto a nut in my easy chair. Suddenly, ALL SURROUNDING SOUNDS DROWNED OUT MAKING THE HEARTBEAT GET SEEMINGLY LOUDER. Yeah... I was dreaming, dreaming my HEART out or else how can I explain my mother having soft black hair (uncoloured, mind you!), coming to life and greeting me after 25 years of leaving to the heavenly abode, to meet her little daughter who is nearly approaching half a century of her innings. What a day!
Soon, it was supper and while getting to sleep I shared my fantasy with my husband and kids. The kids of today, you see! My little son stopped at nothing to narrate his favourite dream with a whole world of Zombies against whom he, with his brother, constructed a protective hologram around his family and town and their warcry being “Wakanda Forever”.
During one of the sessions, a holy man once said in a humorous tone, “There are only two people with eternal bliss of happiness, one who could digest his food within two hours of his supper and one who after a day-long work, dozes off with loud snores, absolutely heedless of the inmates of the room.”
The hall was filled with laughter, but I took some time to get it. With these golden tenets in my mind, I always tried to live a demure, simple yet happy contented life with my family for forty years, still enjoying going for walks and above all having sound sleep after all my household duties. Sound sleep was where I always slipped into the fantasy world of dreams which I account for avidly reading the books like Alice in Wonderland and other fairy tales that the 90’s kids usually read. Though I couldn’t really understand the subtle alchemy of my dreams and often wondered as a kid which ethereal place they come from, I eventually and more maturely tried to distinguish whether their origin was in my heart or in the encephalon, I cease to explain, maybe never can! But clearly, they made a deep impact.
One fine afternoon, after the daily devoir, I lay relaxed on my easy chair which I’m very fond of, for my siesta, alongside my french window in my halcyonic living room, when I heard a knock at the door with a familiar voice. I went and opened the door, quite surprised as well as exhilarated to see my Mom at my doorstep with lots of shopping bags from an Expo. I took her in with a gleam in my eyes and asked her for lunch, she told me she completed hers, so I fetched some coconut water for her.
Women and shopping are an inextricable combination. My sweet mom with her soft black hair and huge bindi was bustling in my living room, spreading her shopping bags on the sofa exhibiting all her felicity and I eagerly sat before her to have a look into what was inside the bags.
She took out a beautiful handwoven saree, I loved the colour, she evocatively let me know that she hadn’t bargained much since it was a direct sale by an old Mangalagiri handloom worker who is hardly accredited for his hard work. Later, she took out a cutlery set which we shared, then she came up with some doormats which were reasonably priced and she finally got to enjoy her bargaining spirit for the exquisite jute-cotton dining mats which were both cute and elegant. Lastly, she has taken out a few aesthetic terracotta pots for the kitchen and plants.
I really longed for some terracotta ear but suppressed my desire with a grin like a Cheshire cat. Perhaps, it is not easy for a married daughter to ask for and take from her parents. It was early evening, I made some tea and had biscuits, both of us loved this time of the day, and we chatted before she got up to leave. I went along with her to the porch and into the courtyard accompanied by the euphonious birds chirping and thin dulcet sounds of wind. She said goodbye and take care, turning back and walking. I wasn’t feeling deserted but when I saw her glasses in my hands, I ran my way out to stop her but she didn't seem to listen to me calling out to her and I screamed like a little girl but was quite appalled when she took no notice. I tried to run fast but then something stopped and stopped me like a wall. Yes, it was my dupatta pinned onto a nut in my easy chair. Suddenly, ALL SURROUNDING SOUNDS DROWNED OUT MAKING THE HEARTBEAT GET SEEMINGLY LOUDER. Yeah... I was dreaming, dreaming my HEART out or else how can I explain my mother having soft black hair (uncoloured, mind you!), coming to life and greeting me after 25 years of leaving to the heavenly abode, to meet her little daughter who is nearly approaching half a century of her innings. What a day!
Soon, it was supper and while getting to sleep I shared my fantasy with my husband and kids. The kids of today, you see! My little son stopped at nothing to narrate his favourite dream with a whole world of Zombies against whom he, with his brother, constructed a protective hologram around his family and town and their warcry being “Wakanda Forever”.
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