Blue bottles

Will not be functional for a bit. Both my blog and I.

 Inconvenience is regretted.

Its funny how I end up at the bottom of everyone’s priority lists every time.

It’s like you put all our names in that little jar and shake it. And mine floats all the way to the bottom. Every-bloody-time. And I wait in painful apprehension each time to hear my name being called out. Ha!Someone kick me.

Funny isn’t it?

And the funnier bit is that I actually believe these people when they make promises. Even after they have broken my heart a billion times before. And I’m not even the kind that hands out second chances.

But wait, the punch line is yet to come.

Then when they allot me that special place in the back of their head where dental appointments and family-dinner-with-fourth-cousin jostle for space, I have the cheek to feel bad and cry.

And these people are the ones who are most important to me – friends and family.

I was first in love when I was thirteen.

I remember the exact moment I fell in love. I was distributing answer sheets around and put his answer script on his desk.

While I walked away to deposit some more answer booklets around, he thanked me. I turned and looked at him.

He stood in front of a window and the light streamed in from behind. Creating a golden square with brightly lit dust swirling around him.

And I stood there – gutpunched.

And knew I was in love.  

When were you first in love?

Money wasn’t easy to come by. He looked at his morose wife and listless children and thought hard.

Thoughts weren’t easy to come by. He sat up, scratched himself and thought harder. His eyes fell on the prosthetic limb he had managed to swipe from the accident victim. Begging was no good. And it hurt his bent absent knee

He was the Man of the House. It was his Duty to save his family.

Man. Duty. Man. Duty

His wife earned more than him. She lifted bricks and coughed her way through. She sewed buttons and washed vessels. And she fed her babies. And she looked at him scornfully.

Man. Duty.

The slight breeze caught a sari hanging on the clothesline. It shivered for a brief moment and died. It caught his eye. And he scratched himself once more. An idea splintered somewhere in his head.

Man. Duty.

He stood up and walked to the sari. Buried his nose in its odour. And smiled.

The next evening he lay down listening to the radio. His wife smiled as she cooked fish. His children played happily in the mud.
He had brought in money that day. He had done his Duty.

He fingered the sari lying by his side.

It was unbelievable how people threw money at him when he dressed in the sari. And behaved outrageously. They were disgusted, afraid, in awe, curious and fascinated by him. Never indifferent. And never without money to fling at him, wishing he’d go away without cursing them.

Only he wasn’t a Man then. Not technically anyway.

He shrugged mentally. As long it brought home money and respect. As long.

Duty.

Man.

I’m soon to begin the People I Like Series. This will feature people I truly like. Which should take 5 posts max. It will include dirty details, messy minds and some songs.

First one up. Soon.

Await with bated breaths, darlings.