Bundles of Navy shore black bracelet and a holy red thread in one hand. She had an expressionless expression. She slept with different boys every night and made coffee for them, to leave. She told me that Kafka gave a theory that during an era, human body separated into two and thus “they complete each other” is quite literal. She said if someone doesn’t complete you, there is no use staying. She was indifferent to cats and dogs but if asked, she’d say cat. They know what they want and they’re moody, dogs are just cute and cute things never amused her. Sometimes she’d scratch the board and look at it for hours. Her parents looked cute together and cute things never amused her. She never went home, even when she had no money she’d ask no one but live on rum and samosa. Boys never stopped coming to her house, and never failed to leave in the morning. You could still not judge her, she had it in her. She followed Jainism and squeezed every last breath from mosquitoes but was strictly vegetarian. It was as if she believed in everything and nothing, all at once. She was not magic either, she had a pale look and you wouldn’t turn around twice to look at her but you’d remember the bracelet and thread on her hand. She’d eat dry chapattis and smoke. The night she made love to me, she left me naked, ashamed. She didn’t humanly touch me, her silence left me naked. She made coffee next morning, said three words ‘You are cute’.
[This post has been contributed by Chitransha Singh, law student at Jindal Global Law School, Sonipat.]
Feature Image source: Wikimedia Commons