Within / Without

(In continuation from here. Kishore was last mentioned here)

She leans over and says “My love for you is still in Beta”. Bombay pumps mugginess onto its streets and he feels sweat beads form on the insides of his brain. Every cell drenched into the salt of its own existence. The moment yawns between them, the sweat within pushes forth to kiss his earlobes. Beta?

In his mind he has been muttering “Fuck-Yous” to her. This woman who draped his walls with block print and batik was now scratching his walls within with chewed up nails. Kishore slumps on his chair and in one moment his anger turns to amusement. This woman whose love was in Beta deserved only to be laughed at. Her name wasn’t worth holding onto. In Bombay no one smells unique. It’s all sea, salt and fish in varying degrees. He must push his thumb in tiny circles, concentric almost, starting with the centre to ease out her words and gestures. Bombay would drown her smell. He would drown this loss.

In such silences he played noughts and crosses on the bathroom walls. Changing rules. A nought for every day he suffered from constipation. A cross for everyday that he cried. How was he to ever win a game? The din of pigeon limbs drum memory upon his back and he walked with a tattoo to remind him – not of her but of loss. That yawn between them had now slept like death.

Posted on May 11th, 2006 by Neha Viswanathan
Filed under: Poetry and Fiction