Just a step out of my den and I would switch off my mains, be tempted to break into a jig, raise my arms and soar up an up like a bird who attains bliss beyond a height. And then that trance that took me through catching up with friends, gossiping with cousins and giving mom those pitch dark circles under the eyes by coaxing her to sit with me and faff and babble endlessly about every damn thing and person. Getting up only when the sun would put me to shame and feign on hubby’s call ‘Oh I was missing you so much!!!’ and giggle like a school girl on hanging up.
Was it all from some other lifetime?? For the excitement still remains, but as I step out of my den, there is lots nibbling me inside and lots more nudging me as if pulling me back into the house. The calls to cousins and pals make way for calls to milkman and handing over rituals to the maids. The urge to call up and ask the maid whether the plants are watered well and curtains drawn nicely is just too hard to resist.
I carry a lump as I step out every six months. I glance longingly and quite so foolishly at the walls. The house might not be perfectly done up as on other days but the last day I am doing it up as if trying to bond with the baby more out of sheer guilt for leaving it back for some time. In the last minute handing over, I often miss that questioning look on my, otherwise quite matter of fact hubby’s face as if saying ‘Am I somewhere in the queue??’ As soon as I’m done with the journey I do make a call to make up and say ‘I’m already missing you’ but fall prey to ending it with hope you switched off the geyser!’
As much as you want to run away as much as you love to hate them, you eventually fall head over heels in love with those very strings. They tug me on, they nudge me. At times they might even smother me but the fact is that I’ve somewhere got addicted to their embrace. I might say at times that I want to break free but inside I know I yearn for them to snuggle me. Such are these frills !
Jasmine Khurana 