The
first part of a short story by Manjula
Padmanabhan
HE'LL be there,"
said Gautam's sister, smiling as she plaited her hair. "Don't worry!" Gautam
felt the skin on his face stretch and thin out like an expanding gas balloon,
with the walnut of his brain exposed to view, floating within it. Was he so
transparent? "I'm not worrying," he
said.
"Of course you are,"
said Sagari. "Look at your face. All wound up! Like a... like a... "She swung
her hair forward over her left shoulder, her fingers plucking and taming the
black delta of hair into a taut braid, the plump links glistening like
paired beetle-wings. Outside the window of her room, the heat prowled and
hammered at the glass, willing the air-conditioner to relent and let it in so
that it could devour its human prey on this burning morning in May, in summer,
the season of annihilation. "What?" said Gautam, interested. "A clock, I was
going to say," said Sagari, "but who winds clocks these days?" Her left hand
held the end of the plait close to her waist, while her right wove a gold fillet
into the end of it, containing it. "So I don't know what you look like any
more." She laughed at his reflection in the mirror. Her little brother, cho
chweet! She could still see the traces of puppy fat on him, a lingering
roundedness near his chin, stubbled now. Stubbled! "Better shave, Gogi. You look
like a porcupine more than anything else. And what will she think of you then,
your special friend"
Gautam
leapt up in frustration.
"It's not fair!" he said.
"I never teased you," But he rubbed his chin anyway. Sagari turned around. She
made her mouth prim. "What was there to tease?"
Femina Archives
1|
