The Reflection

There he was again. She looked at him knowing he couldn’t escape her magnetic charm. He’d made it a habit now and it paid well for her. She had nothing to complain about really. At least it helped put food on the table.
She really enjoyed her work. For all those morally correct social workers she didn’t care a hoot. They were equally tainted. If there was one thing she knew to do well it was to recognize lust in all its forms. And here they were to educate her about AIDS and how she had a better life making candles or some other low paying high labour job; she saw it in them too. They repressed and suppressed all of it as if it was a terrible disease. How stupid! She thought. She was so much ahead of them at least she acknowledged it all and had no qualms projecting those feelings.

He smiled, she nodded, and he entered into her well kept shanty. Without wasting any time she deftly and artistically worked her way with him and watched as he shuddered and writhed in pleasure and shut his eyes with elation and satisfaction. Their little tryst had ended.

This is the part she hated though, when he left. Left her alone and used up. He left her prize on the table right next to her mirror turned upside down. She looked at herself in the mirror now, adjusting the pleats of the thin synthetic fabric on her frail shoulders. Her well groomed hair now disorderly, her vermillion lips stolen of their color, and the powdery mask on her face now dusted off. She was bare now to herself in the mirror, bare enough to see the fine lines under her eyes. Her reflection reminded her of what she once was and what she had become and that there was very little of her to go on ahead.

Just then, he ran in through the door straight into her arms screaming….Aaieee!!!!
She looked into his innocent eyes, the dirty school uniform and the overfilled bag on his shoulders.
Suddenly her day brightened up, she smiled... her best motherly smile and went back to her strong frame immediately. There was no room for weakness of any kind here, was there?

“Hey, come here take this” she said gruffly, shoving the hand held mirror into her neighbour’s dirty hands the next day.
No room for reflections here, she thought, no room at all.
She saw another one in the distance and at once recognized the colour of lust in his eyes……

A Walk on the Water

The air turns a little more salty it clings to me making my skin feel like its been coated with adhesive. I walk on closer and see no one "my private paradise,"I say.. isnt it beautiful how i feel right at home in this humid, moist, sticky, salty air. I sit myself down on the shore.... sand under and all around me. I close my eyes and hear the sea breeze whisper softly in my ear saying to me, "control me.."
Gradually, i realise i have the power in this solitude to awaken my seventh sense wherin i control the elements. The sea breeze listens... i tell it to blow across the sea and cause a more noticeable ripple and it does ...the elation to see my power work. Then i tell it sway those palms ever so gently so they look like they are swaying to a silent tune. Their black silhouettes against the faded, blue background drizzled with milky white sprays of cotton, look like two lovers dancing to a tune at the fag end of a wedding party . Tranquil and content with each other and with their neighbours. So unlike me... I always want more i'm never content. i can control the breeze you see, but tht isnt enough yet... I loathe myself, how many would be happy that they can control something beyond the grasp of all... but not me.. i was created in a moment of want... cursed with the unsatiable desire to drag myself throughout my life to achieve whatever i felt was remotely possible. See, its calling out again to me..."control me" it says i can hear the underlying plea for help like a helpless dog... a new born child maybe. its not the breeze this time i know its voice well.. Its the water i can hear it... the way itss words are interspaced with the shound of foamy waves lapping the shore. The salt water is another fool wanted to be controlled by someone who can barely control herself.

The alarm goes off... yet another dream a dream of having what no one else wants. I dreamt this dream again, she said to herself. Surrounded in this desolate apartment with no one. Nothingness surrrounded her. The high orgasmic feeling of the dream snatched away, just one look of this desolate apartment and she knew, dreams are all she had.. life would go like clockwork. Wake up at eight.. rush in for a bath if she felt like or else sleep for another 15 minutes.... run get ready catch the cab from the station at 8.55.... reach work enter her cubicle, stay there uptil 6.30 occasionally taking a break for lunch and yeah the smoke break at 4 on the terrace of her office. Quite predictable the day was...and every minute she spent at it was to her ears cynical laughter at the dreams she dreamt. Dreams of glory, recognition, special powers. They were laughing u know.....looking at each excruciating second of the dream frame by frame and laughing . Making her look incredibly small stupid and idiotic.

But she will still dream... Her story was unfinished and so is her life......

The Star

"You just wait and see Kala they’ll be here. They’ll be knocking on my door soon.”

Kala smiled, she didn’t know whether to support the old lady’s notion or laugh at it. It had become a daily routine while Kala oiled the old lady’s hair now white with a few grey and black remnants of her youth. That’s all that was left of those good old days. How could she tell the old lady that nobody remembered her any longer! There were new ones in her place now. They danced to the new beats and were semi clad, plastered with white, red and god knows what colours on those faces. They had succeeded in gaining the public’s attention. The good old days when her mistress shone in the limelight like the Kohinoor among the other small jewels on the crown were days gone by.
Then she wondered, “What! Tell her and break her poor heart.” Kala had been the old lady’s help ever since she had been living in her own large bungalow in Bombay. Now funds were short, the old lady had to shift into the small crummy flat. Her health was almost failing, the doctor had advised her fresh air. Fresh air here in the city! What was he thinking! The old womans chatter interrupted her. “They’ll definitely be here tomorrow, after all they wont forget the beauty who sang and danced her way into the hearts of millions of Indians.

They definitely wont forget me? Will they Kala? Kala, will they? “No they won’t.” Kala said reassuringly.” They’ll be here tomorrow and you have to look pretty. So get some beauty sleep now. Good night.”“Good night Kala see that you make some garam pakoras tomorrow when they come. Don’t let me remind you again.“Ok, Ok! Now go off to sleep. Kala went off to her room and slept as soon as she set her head on her pillow.
The next morning Kala put the milk to boil and applying some butter on a chapatti went into the old lady’s room. She was sleeping like a baby as usual. Here your breakfast is almost ready. She touched her and at once knew something was wrong. She was cold. Just then the doorbell rang.The next day Kala received the copy of ‘The Star’ –the famous film city magazine, it had the picture of her mistress on the cover. ‘The gem of Indian cinema passed away leaving thousands of her ardent fans in deep sorrow. Her soulful songs, graceful melodies will remain immortal in the heart of every Indian., she read out to herself tearily.
Kala wrapped up the leftover pakoras in the magazines and said to herself while she threw it into the bin. “No they didn’t forget you Malkin they never did.”