Carefully, she flipped the page, her finger running through the Corning Gorilla, trying to recall how it felt to hold a second-hand bestseller, between the cover of a syllabus-book. Excited guilt. How did this feel? Guilty indulgence. Alerts and notifications ket her updated to a point where she had not been able to proceed into the next paragraph.
Anahita Gautam, author of And Siya is a Bride!, was enjoying her brittle flight of pride, well-aware that she was there because she fed the market with trash. Her favourite song came on as she was furiosly trying to cancel the call. She looked out of her window. The moon was floating, even though there was much dust on the pane to distract her, it did not. The moon was floating away. It is Eid tomorrow. Hastily, she followed the moon, from one end of her apartment into the other, till she was entranced by the golden dollop of a huge sun set into one the buildings. So much so for sunsets by the sea. She returned to her couch and swiped to the next page. Will I ever be able to finish it? Her mind rushed like the curtains -- to and from -- yet, stuck somewhere to not fall apart. Anahita was now following the curtains, it seemed to her that everyone in her comlex had opened their balcony doors to the possibility of a hushed drizzle. The patterns in themselves welcomed the change in hostility from being on one side of the glassdoors. Somewhere, sheep sang, somewhere else circles danced. The squares were on over the other, and the florals smelled beautiful. The curtains are alive.
Tired of chasing the moon and the curtains, she dozed off into her past. Sudhir was smiling at her from inside the pressure cooker, "Look who's concerned about my whereabouts!" Anahita hurriedly pushed away a lock of hair from her temple. Sudhir called her about her cancelled ticket, "You did not consult me!" Anahita furiously bit her nail. Sudhir undressed her. Anahita unbuttoned him. They were tied in curtains which read headlines of their separation. Smoke covered the small flights of pigeon which she tried to feed in some forsaken place. The pigeons broke apart the smoke cage, and were floating with the moon. She tried to look hard at the mirror as she brushed, and there were two of her, one sharp, one blurred.
"Anahita, Anahita?"
Which one is calling which one? "Anahita? Miss Gautam?" A tortoise skated under the car, like it would have happened in animation, and fixed the wire, ready to ride along. They were in Ladakh. She woke up in a jolt. Damn! I slept! Like those exam days. She found Miss Roy hovering over her, "Are you all right, Anahita?"
"Yes, I am. Sorry had dozed off." She went in and splashed some iced rose-water on her face. As she took in the smell, Anahita, in a rush of unexplained frenzy, banged the mirror. Nothing much happened. She put in her fist into the rose-water ice bowl and began to fill it up with her incessant tears. Slowly, she took in the pain and opened her fist in the bowl, too small for her hand. She found a copy of And Siya is a Bride! on the magazine rack. Slumped against the wall, Anahita opened to page 61, "and there he was, Keshav, glowing in his impeccable honesty. Siya could strangle him. Siya smiled through her ghunghaat at the cheering. Siya could not concentrate through the rituals as the minutes closed in and she knew love was sealed. She had to plan one death before one love was sealed."
She remembered removing Sudhir from her life just so that she would not need to mourn his loss.
Lets kill the loved one. Anahita could not decide between her life and her name.
Between Siya and Anahita, who is even, who is odd?
Tired of chasing the moon and the curtains, she dozed off into her past. Sudhir was smiling at her from inside the pressure cooker, "Look who's concerned about my whereabouts!" Anahita hurriedly pushed away a lock of hair from her temple. Sudhir called her about her cancelled ticket, "You did not consult me!" Anahita furiously bit her nail. Sudhir undressed her. Anahita unbuttoned him. They were tied in curtains which read headlines of their separation. Smoke covered the small flights of pigeon which she tried to feed in some forsaken place. The pigeons broke apart the smoke cage, and were floating with the moon. She tried to look hard at the mirror as she brushed, and there were two of her, one sharp, one blurred.
"Anahita, Anahita?"
Which one is calling which one? "Anahita? Miss Gautam?" A tortoise skated under the car, like it would have happened in animation, and fixed the wire, ready to ride along. They were in Ladakh. She woke up in a jolt. Damn! I slept! Like those exam days. She found Miss Roy hovering over her, "Are you all right, Anahita?"
"Yes, I am. Sorry had dozed off." She went in and splashed some iced rose-water on her face. As she took in the smell, Anahita, in a rush of unexplained frenzy, banged the mirror. Nothing much happened. She put in her fist into the rose-water ice bowl and began to fill it up with her incessant tears. Slowly, she took in the pain and opened her fist in the bowl, too small for her hand. She found a copy of And Siya is a Bride! on the magazine rack. Slumped against the wall, Anahita opened to page 61, "and there he was, Keshav, glowing in his impeccable honesty. Siya could strangle him. Siya smiled through her ghunghaat at the cheering. Siya could not concentrate through the rituals as the minutes closed in and she knew love was sealed. She had to plan one death before one love was sealed."
She remembered removing Sudhir from her life just so that she would not need to mourn his loss.
Lets kill the loved one. Anahita could not decide between her life and her name.
Between Siya and Anahita, who is even, who is odd?
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