When angry, sit in a place you don’t sit often. My kitchen window, where the wind chime that never makes a sound, looks into LIC building. My favourite flower chameli, jasmines and bougainvillea look up at the purple jamun tree and find me admiring them from the 4th floor. Here at my height, I only have the company of a few crows. Their regular lunch is not available today I guess because it’s a holiday at the fish market too. So they will also have to look for their Sunday special food. That must be the reason for them being quieter today. The men who had made my life hell by slicing marble like it was my skull are now enjoying their 12 inch pizza size rotis. In the company of cheese and chutney (yes we had chutney sandwiches for breakfast and the smell still lingers), the kitchen is a calming space. But there is so much I haven’t noticed about it all these years that it feeds me with the urgency to write hurried sentences. Once in a while I can smell the fish Sadiq’s mom is frying.
The wind chime only moves and makes no sound.
The TV is far away and is just a faint hum here. Mom had finished cooking at 10 this morning so the vessels lie dead. The cuckoo seems to be on a holiday too, else I would be able to hear it nice and clear and spot it too. Its persistent cooing has been waking me up in the past week.
Little boys are looking for sticks and twigs now. I am too. My story needs support. I can smell palak (spinach) now being cooked in dal. Yes im good at this smelling business. I used to know at the door itself what was cooked for lunch every afternoon after school. There will be no lunch today. My stomach is full of all the anger trapped inside me.
Thank you kitchen window. Will see you again.
your self-respect.
ReplyDelete