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The judgement day. (Between Me and my 'Cousin-Aunt '.E 11)
Ep 11. The judgement day.
At dining table, I couldn’t face Priyanka while she served me breakfast the next morning. She didn’t spoke anything. I was feeling unwell, I had terrible mood-swings. I touched my forehead and realized I was sick again. I felt bored, and I felt like doing nothing. Every time Priyanka’s phone rung, I was eavesdropping with fear. I tried to act normal around Grandma. I tried to distract myself, by reading newspaper. India had won. But I couldn’t feel anything, I was not interested to read the details. Guilt changes the things you love, I realized.
By afternoon, I made my mind up. It’s better to go back to home. I planned to convince my parents about crash course at regional centre, bound to begin in a few days…after I inquired about it by calling a friend. I sat at the dining table after having lunch, fidgeting a fork deciding how to present my opinion before my father. I dialled him up, call wasn’t connected. Maybe, he was at office… I thought I would call him that evening. I stared blankly at tumblers, struck them with a spoon lightly to ease my stress, composing music from them the way I used to, when I was a kid.
“You did this on our wedding day, remember? When I was married to this family?”
I was stunned.
Priyanka was looking me from her doorstep.
“You are always that little child to me…and I need to talk to my small kid.”
She resumed when I stared at her poker-faced. She motioned her hands inviting me to her room, and then went inside the room.
I stood up, rearranged the tumblers, put the chairs in order and moved towards the room slowly as I could. She was sitting on the bed, eagerly waiting for me. She patted the bed.
“Sit here.”
I obeyed.
“You know why I called you in here…Let’s not discuss what happened last night.
I don’t want you to be stressed out for this. You can discuss if something troubles you here…”
And she looked me in a reassuring manner, slowly took my hands I her palm.
“ you will always be that small kid who made music from tumblers… and I want you to see your ‘chechi’ in me, always..”
“ you are bluffing.” I responded.
She was taken aback.
“ you don’t even bother to share your problems with me, and now you are expecting myself to open up before you… you don’t trust me. You never will.”
I don’t know what made me speak like this to her. I didn’t think much as I replied to her cheesy rhetoric.
She sat there, looking down, staring at the...
At dining table, I couldn’t face Priyanka while she served me breakfast the next morning. She didn’t spoke anything. I was feeling unwell, I had terrible mood-swings. I touched my forehead and realized I was sick again. I felt bored, and I felt like doing nothing. Every time Priyanka’s phone rung, I was eavesdropping with fear. I tried to act normal around Grandma. I tried to distract myself, by reading newspaper. India had won. But I couldn’t feel anything, I was not interested to read the details. Guilt changes the things you love, I realized.
By afternoon, I made my mind up. It’s better to go back to home. I planned to convince my parents about crash course at regional centre, bound to begin in a few days…after I inquired about it by calling a friend. I sat at the dining table after having lunch, fidgeting a fork deciding how to present my opinion before my father. I dialled him up, call wasn’t connected. Maybe, he was at office… I thought I would call him that evening. I stared blankly at tumblers, struck them with a spoon lightly to ease my stress, composing music from them the way I used to, when I was a kid.
“You did this on our wedding day, remember? When I was married to this family?”
I was stunned.
Priyanka was looking me from her doorstep.
“You are always that little child to me…and I need to talk to my small kid.”
She resumed when I stared at her poker-faced. She motioned her hands inviting me to her room, and then went inside the room.
I stood up, rearranged the tumblers, put the chairs in order and moved towards the room slowly as I could. She was sitting on the bed, eagerly waiting for me. She patted the bed.
“Sit here.”
I obeyed.
“You know why I called you in here…Let’s not discuss what happened last night.
I don’t want you to be stressed out for this. You can discuss if something troubles you here…”
And she looked me in a reassuring manner, slowly took my hands I her palm.
“ you will always be that small kid who made music from tumblers… and I want you to see your ‘chechi’ in me, always..”
“ you are bluffing.” I responded.
She was taken aback.
“ you don’t even bother to share your problems with me, and now you are expecting myself to open up before you… you don’t trust me. You never will.”
I don’t know what made me speak like this to her. I didn’t think much as I replied to her cheesy rhetoric.
She sat there, looking down, staring at the...
