30X30: Dinner

We are sitting to dinner at Mrs. Sharma's house. Dull conversation lulls the evening along. One tiresome moment, after another. In talking about nothing, we have spoken about everything. Debauched television shows, unending maid woes and our horrid little neighbours. We are seated upon divans from Delhi, overlooking a garden through glass, and munching on salted peanuts from Abu Dhabi. Mrs. Sharma is well-to-do.

Long, winding, uninspiring conversation is bearable amidst such luxuries. Soft, patterned napkins and polished silver cutlery; luxuries my mother never permits. My eyes drift continually to the paintings upon beige walls, to the cracks upon weathered walls. Dinner is finally served.

Piping hot fulkas, sweetened yellow dal and a spicy kobhi bhaji line the table. We savour each bite, eating noisily. Chattering mindlessly. Mrs. Sharma is her usual bustling self. Tall, lanky, gaudily dressed and terribly impatient. She watches me eat, until I can eat no more. And, then she calls out to Puneeta to bring the desert.

Old, dreary, almost shriveled Puneeta walks in to the room. Mrs. Sharma tell us she has been working there for many years. Mrs. Sharma doesn't tell us what an efficient worker Puneeta is. She only goes on watching my mother, and father eat.

Puneeta, however has some dismal news. The sugary, home-cooked dal halwa isn't ready yet. Mrs. Sharma glares at her. Angrily, she asks her why. Puneeta silently walks away. Old, ugly Mrs. Sharma follows her in and begins to scream. And then, suddenly without warning, there is a thud. Mrs. Sharma pulls up her hand, and lands it deafeningly on Puneeta's scarred face. We rush to our feet. Only to remain silent spectators to ten minutes of urban insanity.

Hours later, as I watch the moon, from my white window, I am uneasy. Rage bubbles within me, and spills into nothingness. Puneeta's face wafts through my mind, guilt gnaws at my insides. I am hot, brimming tears...loud, angry sighs all at once. Then, my sobs soften in to a dreamless sleep.

Sometimes, even hope doesn't yield in wretched Shyam Niwas.

[I have a bunch of stuff penned, but haven't been able to put up posts owing to a lack of Internet connection. Will be made up by tomorrow. 30X30 is a series of 30 unrelated posts in 30 days by Gayatri Makhijani and Anuj Gosalia. One post everyday, for the next 30 days. Follow the string here ]