Same old song and dance

I hate men who sulk. Especially who sulk after the vile words leave their mouth. It’s my hate for him that holds us together.

Rich and cheap perfumes waft around. I push into the crowd and walk as fast as I can. I know he is not following.

I hate myself for turning and looking for him. Then searching.

I push and elbow trying to get out of the store. Reluctant panic. The reluctance is the crowd’s and the panic is mine alone.

I sit down on a newly vacated bench. The warmth of the seat is unsettling. Unknown shared intimacies.




He comes… picking at his teeth.

I wonder when I began hating him.

It was easy, his claustrophobic, probing questions and his stealing of an anger that should have been rightfully mine at most instances.

It’s easier if I call it love and men was her advice when I told her about it.

Unrelated relatives

Relatives. Highly useless species. I mean not dormant like stuff. They have to do things. And always in the negative!

"Hello"

My mom is the one who picks up the call as always.

And from then begins a spate of words each more spiteful than the other. Its about my blog. My mom's reaction goes from bewilderment to shock.

I have written about an army cousin! Really? I never once thought he was worth writing about!

I have put up pictures of them! *Shudder*

The family name and honor is at stake! I never knew we had one!

The accusations have been many.

15 seconds of fame. Everyone seeks.

I would like to say some things to all my so called 'relatives' reading my blog. In defense or not.

• My writing is my own and if any resemblance to any person living or dead is but natural. Live with it. At least let me.

• There is a word called verisimilitude. Look it up.

• If you have anything to say, say it to me. There is an email id on my profile page and I truly respond to any emails that come my way.

• And please, if you can...spare me the joy of being read! I really don't like any of you and I know that the feeling is mutual. So why?!

• And on a parting note. Be more courageous. My mother is not the one writing. I am. All answers, if any required, come from me.




To the rest, and I mean the nice people who read me and are not related to me, I will be back with a post and soon. After all there are stories to tell….