The butterfly

I chased her, deeper and deeper into the spring woods, and now i am lost.

Sometimes she comes of her own will and perches on my outstretched hand.

I don’t chase her anymore. I lie here in the arms of the foliage, I’ve built a tiny nest for myself which i call home.

Sometimes she brings a flower for me unasked.

I am happy, i am content, but sometimes she makes my life beautiful.



Random fluctuations in space-time – 1

Today the woman who has worked for 40 years in our house, the woman in front of whom i was born, the woman on whose shoulder my mother died, the woman who took care of a 2 year old and a 4 year old in that difficult time, the woman who made sure that me and my sister had meals on time everyday in school, in college, when we were working, who, never, for even once, asked for a pay raise, threw a tantrum, who treated us like family, who, in our nuclear family was the only person guaranteed to be there in the house anytime you came over, anytime your kids came from school and you had to work, or most importantly, anytime you needed food, retired. It was inevitable ever since she had a heart attack a year ago, and it became a certainty once my mother retired this summer because of the expected power struggles. Our house is weird in a way that no one can show affection to another without it being a direct affront to someone else – like when you have two kids and you say you are succhhh a good girl to one, the other instantly comes and asks am i not a good girl? Something exactly similar, only with adults. Showing gratitude or affection to a maid, a bai, would be a direct challenge to the mother – am i not worthy of affection, do i not mean anything to them? Affection to the mother would mean the same to the father and so on. Like wives are jealous of lovers, and demand attention, in our house, you have to EARN your parents everyday by duty and by behaviour. Years and years and decades and decades of fights and parleys and peacekeeping missions have jaded all of us to such an extent that now, when finally there’s a lining of lasting peace and happiness, no one wants to rock the boat by the slightest splashing of hands in the water, least the mud rises up and the cycle resumes again. So the wary, the weary, the jaded – take the easy way out, they pretend it’s a normal day and everyone who knows anything knows that pretending normalcy is the first step to re establishing normalcy. In our house everyone talks about everyone else in hushed tones when there’s anything nice to be said and shouts whenever there’s something ugly to be said. So i take her to my room, hand her an envelope full of cash, that being the only pitiable way i know to thank someone for a lifetime of unconditional carting and tell her that every month, her salary will reach her house as pension, regardless of whether she needs it or not. She doesn’t actually, her son is a branch manager in a bank and even he has retired with the benefits of the 7th pay commission, but i feel very strongly about this – the unorganized labour in this country, the maids, the drivers, the cooks – their lives once they cannot work shouldn’t be miserable, they are generally left uninsured, alone, denied of comfort and healthcare after serving families all their lives while being paid a pittance when they work. I am not going to be a part of that feudal system whatever i have to do. She has no clue how old she is, and any guesswork is futile, she has more black hair at this age than i do and used to walk 6 kilometers one way everyday to work all her life till my wife secretly got her a pickup and drop autowallah. I quietly call my kids and we take pictures with her and the thought flits my mind that i am taking the picture which will be framed and will hang in our house and her funeral when she dies. I feel a lump rising in my throat, then shrug it off – when someone has given everything they could for you, asking for more is just being parasitic. My wife is really worried whether she will be able to continue her long working hours in her absence or will have to start cooking and cleaning and babysitting because our house is unique – asking for anyone to do anything FOR you is almost like asking for a debt which has to be paid back – right from bringing the kids home from the school bus or asking for a cup of tea – and it was this person whom we could ask without it feeling like an obligation. But the obvious fact is that no one is ever irreplacable, no one is ever missed for more than a week and even a week is too much if you consider the actual meaning of the word – as someone who always sleeps into my thoughts wrote – in a way that your stomach gets tied up in irretrievable knots and you pace up and down the room and you are reduced to a being with useless appendages – beyond an intimate circle of one or maybe two. 

But. While nostalgia is important, while gratitude is necessary – this house – this wonderful place where finally there’s guaranteed to be more laughter than tears, more shouts of joy than cries of anger, where now a silence doesn’t necessarily have to be eerie like my childhood, but peaceful, calm, relaxed – has been fixed brick by brick stone by stone gesture by gesture. Finally, after all these years, it’s fixed, it’s normal – everyone talks to everyone else, there’s no hidden agenda, you can spread your legs and sit on the couch without worrying about being judged. And we’ll keep it that way, whether we have to work a tiny bit harder for it, give up some of our leisures and afternoon sleep, or work a bit less. For after all, if there’s no place to go from or look forward to come back to, does anything else matter? Her contribution will not be forgotten, i think that’s all someone can hope for these days. 



I wonder why even married people go to prostitutes. 

Don’t say prostitutes, say whores. I agree – but i see why they do. They don’t get what they want at home. 

What else they’d want except sex? 

Power. Control. The primitive feeling of being a man. But i think it’s possible in a monogamous relationship too, isn’t it? Say once a year. On your partner’s birthday. I’d love to have a personal whore in my birthday. 

But you do have me. We have sex on your birthday, especially what you like, everytime, don’t we? 

Yes. I do. But you know how it is. It’s consensual. It’s planned. It’s not at unexpected times, at unexpected places. I have to take care whether you enjoy it or not. I have to please you too in bed. I have to take care of what i say for fear of being misunderstood or being thought of as selfish. A personal whore would have no such encumbrances. 

As in? Go on. 

As in i could call you whatever terrible thing i want to call you for that day. Anything at all, and you would know it means nothing, just a turn on for me.. 

No. Name it. 

Arrey. Anything. Darling. Bitch. Jaan. Jaanu. Babe. Honey. Dear. Slut. Whore. Dearest. Beta. Call you by the thousand nicknames i have for you. Whatever the fuck strikes my mind. 

Haha are you mad? For example? 

For example you could be in the kitchen and i could say darling it’s time for a fuck, bend over. And you would just do it, or atleast delude me that my saying that turned you on. Or i would say aren’t we being a bitch by putting on too many clothes today? Take them off and he a whore for me and roam around naked while i watch. And you’d happily comply. That’s the only thing men get from whores that they don’t get from their wives, the power to fulfill mad wishes which a sane partner would never allow to. 

Or? What else would you say or have me do? 

Oh say I’ve to go to work and i’d text you in an angry tone – where’s the tit view for this hour or why aren’t you playing with your pussy and sending me a picture. You get the idea, right? 

Yes but it would never work. We would carry it to the next day. 

Why would we if we take it as a game? As a roleplay? Oh i could tell you to call me daddy that day or tell you to whisper fuck me right now in the workplace – it wouldn’t mean i am in incest, it just would mean i want something new to get me high as never before without cheating on my partner. 

I’d know what you would say. Half the time would be wasted in telling me to get down on my knees and suck cock wherever we are. 

Oh but i would return the favour on your birthday, we would just exchange roles – you could call me a good-for-nothing-cock or tell me to forego my actual meal and eat pussy all day. Or if words aren’t your thing, you could not say a single word and just point at my cock and i would get naked and erect for you for as many times in a day you want. 10 orgasms back to back if you want. 

So you mean one person has all the control for a day! 

Yes. And especially the opposite of regular. If i am the gentle type, i would be rough. If you are the dominating type, you would be submissive. Or vice versa. Something like that.

Let’s see. Next birthday we shall have to plan a one day holiday. 

Let’s do a minor rehearsal this time. What say? 

Your best friend has become our enemy my dearest he isn’t your best friend, trust me it feels nice and easy to surrender to him all day and night but trust us when you grow older you will realise that the easiest paths are always wrong Tolkien said that short cut make for long delays maybe you will read him for yourself but i doubt it children of readers are never readers but as someone says you’ll do what you’ll do just don’t make this lethargy this sleep this laying in silence all day all night till we disturb you your best friend my darling let’s play Papa tell me a story papa tell me a story once there was a hare beta who went to sleep during his race with the tortoise and so the tortoise won the race but everyone has been fooled by this story so far what’s one race got to do with life my chhotu after the race was over they took off the hare’s fireman’s helmet and gave it to the tortoise because wasn’t the tortoise now the fastest new hero in town but even a month hadn’t passed when there was a large fire in the jungle the tortoise was too slow off the blocks he couldn’t warn the animals to jump in the water the hare would have saved all of them he was slow in that race cos there was nothing to win for him there but now he ran he ran he ran he always kept running in his life because he slept just once so beta don’t sleep wake up let’s play dearest i know nothing happens with everyone everyone’s kids get sick it’s nothing it’s nothing but no one taught us parenting we are learning on the job we are learning to worry, we learning to not worry we are learning to strike a balance we are learning to laugh loudly and make funny faces while silently worriedly holding each other’s hands behind your back wondering whether this medicine will stay down or come up again we are learning to hide our worry from our best friends because worry beggers worry doesn’t it and we know you by the time it’s evening you will be playing again i won’t complain if you keep me up all night to play get well get well embrace the light in your eyes which you so much hate these days let’s play let’s play.