Satan

She squinted at Botticelli’s replica hanging on the wall in front of her, trying hard to concentrate in the midst of the storm brewing inside her.

Dante’s inferno and the Map of Hell… she’d read so much about it, and yet the irony wasn't lost on her as she tried half-heartedly to concentrate on each level, barely able to make out the shapes in her head.

She looked at all the pain, the punishment, the anguish… for the unbaptized… the gluttons… the greedy… the wrathful writhing in slime… But as she rocked back and forth one level held her attention the most.

“Faster…” she moaned, and he complied.

Her mother and Sunday school had spent their entire lives warning her of Satan and Hell, but right now, midst the throes of passion, lust didn’t seem like a sin to be avoided anymore. 

Coincidence

“So you see, as it turns out… coincidences can lead to beautiful things…” he said, smiling lovingly at her. She smiled back at him. The act had now been perfected to the last word, for he really did love telling the story of how they met to anyone who’d care to ask.

It was plain to see just how madly in love they were – their story inspiring to all, the thought of finding your soul mate when you least expect it. Listeners found themselves at the edge of their seats, amazed at how a series of unseemly events could so suddenly have aligned to ensure they met, so beautifully. It was almost like fate.

 “It’s like the world conspired to ensure I met her. Luck really is an amazing thing.” He’d often say.

She looked at him, her infatuation with him just barely contained. Ever since she first saw him, she knew they had to be together. And finally she had him all to herself. She didn't believe in luck…  All those hours of stealthily following him and her copious notes on his every movement every day to orchestrate their first meeting… you just can't leave things to coincidence these days.

Infidelity

She looked at her own reflection in the mirror, and knew at that moment, everything was about to change. If she decided to go through with this, there was no turning back. Some things you can’t undo, some bonds of trust can never be rebuilt.

She saw him walk around, ignoring her in an almost painfully obvious way. He wanted her here. She could almost feel her bones ache with tension, knowing what was coming next. He wanted her just the way she was, in that exact position, just the way he liked it.

He finally walked up behind her, and she closed her eyes as she felt his naked fingers run through her hair. She shivered slightly at his touch, then blushed, hoping he hadn’t noticed the effect this was having on her.

But the knowing half smile on his face told her he knew.

She squirmed, suddenly more uncomfortable than before.

She felt rather than saw him bend down behind her, and just as she felt the slightest sliver of his warm breath on her neck, she jumped out of the chair, and mumbling a hurried apology ran out of the swanky salon.

Running back to her trusted hair stylist, she let out a sigh of relief. This infidelity, she would never have forgiven herself for.

Drama

She sipped her morning cup of coffee, breathing in the heady aroma, and looked at their immaculate apartment. She touched their pictures framing the walls…family…friends…beautiful memories… The furnishing was just as she liked it, almost out of a magazine catalogue, but with just that slight touch of craziness that seemed to define her. A scarf covering the lamp…. Colorful disjointed cushions lining the sofa… a cozy blanket lying there from the night before…

She walked into the bedroom and looked at him, sleeping like a baby, soft sunlight playing hide and seek with his hair. He was a good one. The only good choice she’d made in years. After years of self destructive decisions… here she was…in a life that was almost… perfect.

She bent down and with a quick kiss on his cheek, left the envelope next to his pillow. There wasn’t much he’d find in that envelope when he woke up later. Just a blank sheet of paper with one word… “Sorry”.

She picked up her bag, and with one last look at her home, stepped out.

After all, what’s life without a bit of drama.

Superficial

She opened her eyes lazily, almost willing her mind not to, knowing she wasn’t going to like what was in front of her.

Another morning, another unknown face, another unknown bed.

It was becoming a habit, almost.

If only it felt like a bad one.

Slipping quietly out of bed, she tiptoed across the room gathering her clothes, and quietly let herself out to breathe in the fresh air. Looking at her watch, she smiled…just in time for her appointment.

Later, as she felt the first prick of the needle gliding across her skin to ink a beautiful design, she lay back and let a tiny tear escape the corner of her eye.

Sometimes the pain from superficial wounds is so much sweeter than the deep ones.

Spark

5 AM.

Rubbing her eyes, she opened the door to absolute chaos outside. All she could see were heads of people, half of them in uniform.

She looked at the cop staring quizzically at her. “What’s going on?”

“Ma’am, the CCTV shows that your neighbor came over to your house last night. What did she want?”

“Err… ya… a matchbox, I think.”

“What for?”

She looked at the cop, evaluating how much to tell him.

“Can I know what’s going on?”

“Sure, but what did she need the matchbox for? Did she tell you? You were good friends I’ve heard”

“Well… She’d found Sid… I mean her boyfriend cheating on her… I think she wanted to burn some of his clothes in anger.”

“And you didn’t find that weird?”

“Well… it’s just a silly girly ritual we sometimes did… I didn’t think that’s a big deal. What’s happening? Is she hurt?”

“No Ma’am… so she burnt his clothes last night?”

Exasperated, she pushed past the cop towards the door across the hall. “I don’t understand. Did he complain to the cops about her burning his clothes? That’s ridiculous!”

As she made her way past the crowd, she gasped at the sight in front of her.

“No Ma’am, he didn’t complain about his clothes. It’s just that he was still in them.”

A Minute

She tapped her feet impatiently, and looked at the clock. Time, was of essence. Precision, even more so. Their life worked like clockwork, day after day. Routine was their source of comfort. Obsession, people called it. Attention to detail, to time.

But then she found out, what she wasn’t supposed to. About the other woman. His other life. And chaos seeped in.

She looked at the clock. One minute to seven.

A minute.

That’s all that was left to her plan.

In a minute, he would walk in, as he did every day.

In a minute, he would find her lying on the floor, in a pool of her blood.

Semi-conscious, ideally.

He would run to their medical box, kept in the cupboard in the study. It was well stocked with all the necessary items, of that, she had made sure. His surgical skills would kick in, and he would be working on her wrists, even as he dialed for help.

With clammy hands, she looked at the clock, as the minute hand silently slid into place.

The knife she held in her right hand worked with surgical precision, and with one sharp movement, she cried out, looking down at the crimson trail now forming down her arm.

She smiled, as she heard the click of the door, and footsteps. He would be reminded of where his heart truly lay, and would finally leave her. And come back home.

Downstairs, he entered their living room, and paused.

Did he leave the light in his office on? Or did he switch it off?

Cursing under his breath, he turned and headed towards his car, knowing he wouldn’t sleep a minute that night otherwise.

“Stupid minute details!”

This post is part of the A Word A Week Challenge.(Week 2: Minute)

Again.

She woke up with a start, in exactly the same way she had each night recently. 

As her eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness, she became faintly aware of a sticky weight on her waist. And then she felt it, the rough hand resting against her skin, the owner blissfully asleep, unaware of the torment building at his touch. She gingerly lifted his arm and slipped out from under it. Grabbing her dress off the floor, she quickly tip toed out of the unknown room, making sure not to turn and see his face. 

Another day. 

Another man. 

Another instance of clouded judgment.

Taking a deep breath, she walked out into the starry night.



This post is part of the A Word A Week Challenge.(Week 1: Cloud)

It's Challenge Time!!!!

So this has to be one of my laziest and most un-creative (is that even a word?!) patches ever! It has been forever since I’ve written, or felt like writing anything. And while it’s so easy to blame all the duties of life post marriage for lack of time, the simple fact is, me being the lazy person that I am, barely have any of these duties, and have an amazing hubby who does more than his share. And his share includes comforting me after I reach home drenched in sweat cursing the Mumbai gods and traffic and distance and everything under the sun.

So I decided it’s time to do something about this lazy patch. This blog has been my life for way too long to give up on it so easily. So here’s what I plan to do. I’m starting two challenges. Challenges for myself, and challenges for any of you who choose to indulge and jump in on them. I’ll make it fun, I promise!

Challenge 1: A Word A Week

This isn’t anything new, and I was inspired largely by FatMumSlim’s A Photo A Day challenge. So this is how it works:

• Every month I’ll make a list of random words, one for every week of the month.
• The challenge starts with a new word every dreary Monday morning.
• And then you have a week to do whatever you want with that word. A blog, a story, a musing, a poem, a photograph, a sketch, there’s no restriction. Use the word directly, or contort it to mean whatever you want it to. One word, every week.
• Just mark me on whichever medium you display it or give a link to, on Facebook or Instagram…whatever suits you, so I can keep track of who all are taking the challenge.

And if anyone apart from me actually takes this up, well, let’s compete :D

No, I don’t have a prize for you, whatever the hell happened to creative satisfaction!! Hmph!! But I will throw in a pretty cool badge to put up on your site :D

Challenge 2: The Non-Cookery Challenge

Now before getting married, I made it super clear to A that I don’t cook, and I have no plans to start any time soon. Then he was sweet enough to move to Mumbai for me, away from all his mum and my mum’s yum food. So out of feeling rather generous I promised him I’ll cook for him once a week, every weekend, just to keep his tummy happy. Because come on, cooking every Sunday isn’t really that big a deal now is it?

But as time went on, weekends seemed more useful to sleep in, and tummies were happy hogging on shawarmas from the various conveniently located Andheri joints, even if our pockets turned a little weepy.

And yesterday after long, I actually felt like cooking for the poor starved boy. No, I still don’t end up making daal makhni and butter chicken for him, but something is better than nothing, right, even if it’s continental?!

So here’s the next challenge. Cook one dish every week. Whether it’s just an appetizer or a dessert, as long as it's something in the kitchen made by your own hands. And while I know too many people around me who are experts and actually cook every day and I would love for them to participate, I’d especially love it if you’re one of those people like me, who doesn’t cook, and struggles, and needs a push to do it more often.

So this one has no restriction on what to cook or how. Just cook. Once a week, any time, take a pic, and tag me. You want to just put a pic with a title, go ahead. You want to share your horrifying / awesome experience, I’d love to hear it! You want to be generous enough to share the recipe of your creation, well, you truly are selfless!!

I’m doing this because publicly failing to cook might motivate me more than ignoring my husband’s pain filled hungry eyes (I’m good at not wearing my specs / contacts and ignoring faces).

So PLEASE join me, motivate me, and bloody help me cook!

Totally looking forward to seeing stuff!

And hopefully creating some stuff myself!

Will keep updating FB / Instagram with details.

Challenge Accepted!

Pointed.

She walked home slowly, leisurely, her bare feet barely noticing the sticky tar and muck of the road. The wind slowly caressed her hair, reminding her of his hands, just a few moments earlier. Just before he sniggered at the idea of her career, and kissed her on the forehead.

She smiled as she lovingly adored her favourite red stiletto dangling from her hand, then felt a twinge of sadness at spoiling the pair.

Maybe she shouldn’t have left the other one stuck in his neck.

Manic Monsoon

She heard the whistle, and the muttered words, and felt the lusting eyes on her as she passed him on the street. She clutched her umbrella and marched on, determined to ignore him.

She heard the scramble, the gasping scream, and saw the shock in his eyes, as the manhole she had just crossed gave way under his weight.

She heard the gurgling of his suffocation in the sewer, saw the fear in his barely opening eyes, his desperate plea for help as she peeked into the gutter.

He saw her clutch her umbrella tighter, blow him a kiss, and march on, smiling.

The Duel

She stared at me, her eyes moving slowly between mine and the weapon in my hand. Time had slowed to a standstill, and at that moment we both knew, only one of us will make it out alive. And I had no intention of leaving just that soon. From the corner of my eye, I saw her raise her hand slightly, but before she could rethink her action, with a swishing sound, I brought my right arm swinging down at her, and the impact resonated through the room.

Two screams sounded out, hers, of shock, mine, of disgust.

I dropped my weapon and ran out of the room, unable to look at my handiwork.

The next day, calmer, I came back, with reinforcement, but the body was nowhere to be found, only a damaged part left behind.

That’s when the real horror of the situation struck me.

Right now, at this very moment, there’s probably an injured angry tail-less lizard, biding her time, plotting revenge, and waiting for me.

Tough Luck

“Hey Bitch!” he screamed as she turned away. “You and I have a score to settle, don’t you think?”

Karma raised a bored eyebrow at him, before settling right back into her work. Infuriated at this obvious display of indifference, he started down the stairs towards her, with eyes flaming with a madman’s purpose. He managed to take four steps before he felt his foot slip, and with a silent scream landed on his back, a sickening crunch resounding through the air as he slid all the way down to her feet in a painful mess.

She looked down at him, bored as ever, and said, “Oops.”

Say Cheese!

“You’re crazy!” He screamed, as he hysterically fought against his restraints. Suddenly, he froze, as he saw the grinning bride bend down to set up the timer on his camera, adjust the light, focus it on his face, and step back, her finger slowly pulling the trigger.

“Smile please!”

Re-born

She sat in a corner

World undone

A tear, a wound

A story told wrong.

He picked her up

Scarred, unpolished

Hiding from the world

Emotion, abolished.

Together, they grew

Different as they were

Thorns and roses

Entwined, apart.

In him she saw hope

Of redemption, of life

In her he saw his dreams

His reason, his life.

She knew not how to thank him

For words never sufficed

How he fought and rescued

Her, from plight.

For their love abounded

In the bleakest of moments

With kindness and hope

Their life, rebreathed.

 When hope was but a flicker

And forever after a dream

Fate & destiny smiled together

For what they, meant to be.

P.S. Thank you for entering my life, A, and for never giving up on me.

Rejection

Exasperated, she stood next to more than a dozen empty auto-rickshaws and tried to flag down yet another one unsuccessfully, screaming out her destination. The rickshaw-wala slowed down near her, then looked at her with disgust, muttering at the waste of his ten seconds spent listening to her useless destination, and was about to speed off when with a quiet thump, he slumped down in his seat, motionless.

“Sorry. I guess I just don’t take rejection too well.”

And with that, she dragged the rickshaw with the limp bloody body near the others, and stood again to flag down the next one.

Trust

“Trust me.”, he said smiling, spreading his arms. “I’ll catch you.”

Taking in the fresh air with one final deep breath, she stepped off the ledge, smiling down at his angelic face. Wind whipping her face, her smile faltered slightly, then froze as she saw him, still smiling, calmly step aside, and watch her fall.

Check-mate

Wiping her tears, he opened her hand, and placed the white king and the black queen. “To remind us, we’re different, but will always be, on the same board.”

Years later, she held the pieces, tears flowing freely.

He never mentioned, it may be the same board, but the game could never be won, together.

First Impressions

She scowled at the boy alternating between his loud ShahRukh impersonations and checking his hair’s reflection, and thought, “Rowdy twerp”

He raised his eyebrows at the disapproving look from the girl buried in her Ayn Rand and thought, “Pretentious snob.”

Years later, their wedding invite read, “Love was never meant to be, at first sight.”

Heart-broken

The tears ran freely, as she struggled to face reality, stranded alone in the dark street. She still couldn't believe it. After all the trust, loyalty, and time she had invested. To be betrayed suddenly, and so painfully.

With a final heartbroken sob, she let go of her beloved broken heel, and hobbled back home.