Snacks on the table, cushions on the floor, beer mugs in place, larynxes straining to cheer, hands ready to high-five, already arguing about who would get run out, they were all set.
As they sat in the darkness, they learned there are some things you just can't control.
Like rain delays and power failures.
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“It's dead,” pronounced Vishwaam, peering at the moth on his haunches before prodding it gently just to make sure.
“Quick, clip the wings,” urged his sibling and partner-in-crime Hridaya.
“There. That's done. Now we have two each with two to spare. Quite enough, don't you think, to fly all the way to Mommy?”
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Long sunlit afternoons of kissing are always such a good idea.
Mmmm.....damn, he was good. The pressure was perfect. The teasing just that teeny bit naughty. And mercifully, not rough or harsh like the last one.
The warmth drawing her in closer, she wanted it to go on forever....
But the director said “Cut!”
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He liked her smile as she sat coyly across from his mother, answering questions in low tones.
Tea over, the elders decided it was time for them to chat alone.
“So, what kind of music do you enjoy?” he asked, warming to his favorite theme.
“Agent Malini Sriram. The Quattrochi case. Mr. Sinha, you're under arrest.”
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“Pink as usual?” Shireen tittered, while her sister pretended to ignore her.
Only the wobbling of her shoulders gave her away, and Shireen knew Farhana was enjoying this as much as she was.
Guess the Undie Color was a game they'd invented during their annual summer trips to Dahanu, so many years ago.
65, to be precise.
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“Leave” said the text message in its simplistic/soundless/jarring way.
“Now let's see,” thought she.
Inhibitions. Check.
Sanity. Check.
Relationship. Check.
Planet. Nearly there....
“That'll teach him to be more specific the next time around” she giggled, and continued her conversation with the slit wrists that foamed all over the unopened bottle of medication.
