Fiction Fragment: Her son’s photographs
(Because, we always need the other side of the story)
Sabaapathi wants to bang the phone down. But corrects himself, just. His mother, obviously. She wants photographs of him, so she can ask Kamala maami for a suitable varan. He mumbled something about fending for himself. Anyway, being single is not all that bad, he tells her.
The week-after. His mother still hasn’t received the promised Euppeeyes package. He tells her he’ll check up on it, makes a mental note to despatch them before the day closes.
Evening, he runs into a once-in-a-while friend at the store, tells him of his mother’s demands, hoping for a few laughs and sympathetic tongue-clicks. He gets awkward laughs instead.
Perhaps mother was right after-all. 28 and single? It would be good to have a wife around the house, he thinks. Maybe, she could even work.
He smiles.
In Arumbakkam, the doorbell rings.
RSS/XML
May 30th, 2007 at 12:38 am
enda enda.. avan avan kashtam avanukku.
May 30th, 2007 at 11:20 am
This single word – Euppeeyes – puts it onto a whole different level. We bow!
May 30th, 2007 at 5:47 pm
To each unto his own !! Yes !! We need this side of the story too !
May 30th, 2007 at 8:09 pm
Mr. Chandrachoodan you are the new-age R.K.Narayan… catch my point.
May 31st, 2007 at 11:39 am
Next episode:
Jagadambal wiped her hands on the edge of her saree and walked to the door. The arthritis was killing her. She couldn’t even grate coconuts sitting on the floor anymore. Saroja was lucky, her daughter-in-law had taken over the kitchen. But Sabaa, he hadn’t even sent those photographs. When would she get a break…? Kamala maami would be furious when she met her in the bhajanai class today. Maybe she would just not go.
At the door was Ambi anna. She wondered why he had come. It had been a few months since his wife had passed away and he had become a recluse. Living with his daughter in Baroda. Pouring his filter coffee, little droplets of brown, shimmering in the Chennai sun, raining over her new coffee table, Ambi anna dropped his bombshell. Jagadambal’s world spun into a tizzy. She heard steel tumblers and wedding bells, hindi songs and mantrams She smelt burnt rasam and jasmine buds. She saw plymouth cars and white horses.
Ambi anna had come with a varan. His sister-in-law’s daughter. Bhargavi. From Delhi. Lawyer. Tall. Modern. Jagadambal had no words. Delhi, she though…Aandava…what should she say?
Then another thought… The photographs were not necessary now…
May 31st, 2007 at 12:45 pm
Story teller: We bows.
May 31st, 2007 at 6:22 pm
testing this stupid comment board