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Wednesday, January 23, 2013

It's 12 noon. I am restless.  Am prowling around the house.   Thoughts run through the mind. What is in store for me ? How will the day end?

Am unable to concentrate on anything.

I walk into the kitchen. The daal is bubbling on the gas burner.  Ready to spill over. Concentrate, i tell myself, concentrate…I try hard. Try to focus on things at hand.. . Chop an onion here, stir the curry there.. …… No, it is not working. I give up.

I walk to the window. my eyes scan the people walking on the street. Sifting thru the crowds. Searching….

My eyes glance at the clock ticking away. the rhythmic ticking doesn't soothe my frayed nerves. Rather it further agitates me….. the sound.

The doorbell rings. I rush to the door . A smile on my lips. . Ready to beam a warm welcome

It is the dhobi.

The smile vanishes promptly.

I go back to the dal . To the rotis. Robotically, I roll them, pat them on the griddle..,, All the while my gaze is fixed to my right . Through the window…on to the street outside.

Ouchh! I yell. Patted my hand on the girdle. That hurt. The eyes sting. With the pain. Of the burn. Of having been stood up.

Morose now.

And , I spot her. Her short frame. As she cuts though the crowds, determinedly. I wait. just to make sure it is her. The heart is thumping.  Just 2 steps more and I can be sure.... come on ..come on.... my hands are clenched.

She takes the right turn, up the pathway. leaidng to my house . Now I see her . It is her. My face breaks into a huge grin. With a spring in my steps, I rush to the door. Hold it wide open .

"Yaa yaa, Sumitrabai."

 Sumitrabai.  My house help.



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