June 20, 2008

Coming back home.

The steel key shafted into the doorlock and her fatigued hand turned the levers opening the door of her:their; new flat. It was around four and she fell on the sofa and did not bother to decide o which rack she wold put her shoes, she did not bother that day. The ripe sunshine beamed on her from behind, that gave her golden hair. Her numb eyes stared at the grey television screen; how much longer could she bare?
'Should I break off? What more can I possibly do? Then...'
Illogical possibilities that don't come true till you see them, or they stare at you, long enough till you break down. She looked at herself, 'the head is giving me problems, need to do something about it....' Her body lay on the sofa, Sleep was enforced.
Something is hurting again...the shoulder now...something always has to hurt I guess, she thought, or else you'd lose yourself. But some things she knew are fatal, they cling to you like a shadow; shadow of the midnight's dream. What is more important? What is worth? Is it? she sat on a merry-go-round and then she could never get off, not that she didn't have the ticket but more that she could never make up her mind. But why? Its a perfectly fine marriage, I need to hold on a bit more, Shouldn't I? or....
'Tara!...' Her husband Girish called, he was home. Must be nine, i slept too long, she thought. As she got up blood that flooded her skull came gushing down and the memory of the day's accident buzzed up. He stared at her, she could not stare back. Through the glass anger his, she could see, but that wasn't her fault, was it? What if...?
'Ae Tara! Have you gone blasted deaf? Where's the food? I'm starving.'
Forgot. Daily chores.
She got up hesitantly, with her frozen shoulder; still in her uniform...The grey , the white and the grey. Shirt buttons open...no bother. Somehow she did not bother tonight, although she wanted to...She paced to the kitchen.
There he was, pathetic...in his vest loose and unsuitable for him. Hairy armpits...how she hates them. Couldn't he see I was sleeping, all tired and troubled? came all on me...food!...but he did see me with him...but...she thought she wanted to say this, but then would it be very healthy for the relationship?
'What are you staring at now? No food...Fuck...I'll have to eat the left overs now...'
'You could...'
'No thanks, why don't you? Oh! wait a minute, you must be full, na? Nice meal you both had. Weren't you a bit close? for 'just an old friend?' and you did seem happier than ever...'
'We're just old friends...please spare me.'
'Never, I will nor spare you nor your bloody friend...'
'He has nothing to do with this...please just let it be...I'm sick of it.'
Her voice almost choked, eyes were about to cry. She was breathing heavily, a lot of things got stirred up, a lot of problems...
Rajesh had nothing to do with this, nor anyone else...why does he have to have such a problem? What is my problem?
'There! Why do you love him? Don't you love me? eh? Answer me! bitch...'
He spat his poison all over her, his face was red and his eyes grew bigger. His face was near her's. She could smell his breath and all the rot that lay inside and as the words fell on her something went off.
Questions? Answers? Me? You? Love?
'I hate you. I do. I love him. Ya...'
Tears swept her face and she ran inside and sat on the bed and cried. Girish could not move for a few moments...his eyes had died away. Like a wounded animal, he backed the kitchen wall and stared at the floor.
Tara took the whiskey bottle out of its rest, poured it in the steel glass, and drank it. Filled it again but the malt was now rocking her head. She could also see her dark image in the glass sway. Everything was falling apart, the more she held it tight the more it slept away...like sand in your hand. Girish came in, fuming; his pupils had dilated and he held his jaw tighter...
'You...whore...get out of my house...out now...I've had enough of your liberal culture.'
Data in...data out...no processing.
Tara's hand slammed the steel glass on the table and pushed Girish to the wall...
'Culture? You...tell me about culture? You bang that bitch what's-her-name everyday and you mister tell me about culture? eh? I just laugh with a friend and I'm a whore?'
'How dare you...I wouldn't ever think of it... '
'Just shut the hell up...I was there with Shama during her abortion...When she aborted YOUR bloody child...and not you...You're just a worm...I feel like puking when I look at you...'
Girish's head blew to a billion pieces. He couldn't look at her anymore, he was no longer the holier one.
Girish's face melted and he came closer to Tara and held her.
'O Tara, it wa...'
Tara pushed him away.
'Get off me....
You know what? Hell with you and your love. I'm leaving.'
Processor out of order? She doesn't think so. Questions do come back, they never leave. Maybe they even come with to to the after world or your next birth, but they do come back, big. Why did I come back any way? Where? She thought...Worth and worthlessness. Who decides.
Next day Tara stood in front of the same door, the key in the slot.
Home?...Next?... ... ...

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Truly a masterpeice bro! Im thrilled by this. You kept the mystery till the last and I know how difficult it is to write like this, revealing the mystery slowly!
I would say of this as a very good start for writing short stories.