cut

Like professionals who agree to disagree they said goodbye. Chicken to do it like the real adults in the real world, this seemed a perfect option. Quick and snappy. Like yanking a band-aid off.

She desperately craved to be able to reach out and feel the emotion behind it all. To hold him tight with her arms around him and tell him she didnt want to let go. That she didnt want him to let her go. Holding onto the remnants of a fine bond, she’d treasured this like a delicate flower. Preserving it carefully through all the jolts and bumps. It had given her a hope and brought a cheer onto her face, a happiness that had eluded her from as far back as she could remember.

She headed out and drove in silence, for, the next 20 minutes were precious.

As the words swam in her head, thoughts and memories spilled over misty highways. Choking on the abundance and rush of despair, she turned on the player. Music would help. CD switched and a piece of aimless started.

A cue.

Tears weren’t new to her. She was used to wiping salt off her lips, but this was a nascent anguish leaving her with physical pain. It was akin to childbirth. The wrenching from within as parts of her tore away leaving behind raw fresh pain with every breath. Before she knew it, loud racking sobs filled the space around her. An alien voice . Oblivious to the surrounding as cars and vans stopped and whizzed by her intermittently, she wept as with every minute that passed it was closer to the mask. She couldn’t mourn for something she’d just killed, once she switched roles.

Tossed out. Pushed far. She sat in her corner like an urchin punished.

Holding the wheel till her palms turned white, she shot through the haze within and out.

 

A red light

A white 18-wheeler

A blue cop car

 

A few seconds of blaring sirens and flashing lights later she pulled over. A dummy, she sat waiting.

Ma’am, do you have any idea why I pulled you over?

She looked up at him and shook her head

Ma’am, are you okay?
Are you sure?
Are you feelin alright?
Have you been drinking ma’am?
Is there someone I can call?
Ma’am you were speeding. Did you know that?
A second late and you’d have rammed into the truck you see out there?
The light was red Ma’am, you should’ve slowed down.
Can I see your license Ma’am.
Please stay in your car, I will be back.

She shook and nodded her head as she felt was appropriate. Words weren’t easily coherent considering.

As she saw him leave in the rearview, she thought of his reflection in his mirror. With childish excitement he’d clicked that for her, she could tell. His eyes smiled at her through the lens, through the mirror, through the mask he wore.

Ma’am you do have a clean record. Want to explain why you were speeding and jumping a light? Is there someplace you have to get to in a hurry?

She nodded mutely. She hated her tears. She did’nt look pretty when she cried. Her voice was hoarse and she barely croaked a ‘yes’

What was that again? Ma’am
To my friend’s. He’s leaving.
Ma’am you do understand I have to ticket you.

She nods.

***

As she enters the cacaphony and gets hit by a barrage of words, she slips into the powder room. Staring at the mirror, a pale puffed up version with a fatter nose and red eyes, the mirage speaks back :

“Hello Mrs. R, welcome home. The party’s over.”

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11 thoughts on “cut

  1. you name them fables, but they seem very realistic, though narrated from third person a/c.. just curious, how do these ideas hit you, and how much do you get influenced from the surroundings (inspired by people/tv etc).. this curiosity is from a fellow writer’s perspective (nothing personal)

  2. My naming them fable is an inside joke. It’s a flip side to how I perceive these incidents. Funnily, I am blessed with a gab of tangentia. A small conversation piece, a vacant look, a play of words, my own actions, anything actually. I don’t get influenced by the media as in TV, soaps, movies. At least I try not to. It all stems from real life. ..and I am a romantic at heart which surely doesn’t hurt to churn some imaginary stories. ;-) Ultimately I want it to reflect real life. I mean, isn’t that more satisfying as a writer? There’s enough of the fluff going around anyway… not that there’s anything wrong with it. :)Thanks Pavan, but I sure have ways to go.

  3. Rads: I seriously suggest you consider using your obvious talents in writing a M&B kind of book. You can put down in words feelings. It makes me feel little seeing the skill TDNA, Prabhu and you weild:). Please tell me you spent a week, at least, in coming up with this.

  4. ok – m&b? M&B?! M&B:( Now am totally crushed. I last read m&b was when I was 13! Essentially is that you saying, that I write for a hormone-frenzied juvenile teenybopper? :( I have read your work mister, you are very good. You just don’t know it! :pOk, I took a week to come up with this :D

  5. rads:a transformation! suddenly, i am much better with this fable thing.”Thanks Pavan, but I sure have ways to go.”… and sometimes i feel, i have ways to let go. didn’t someone once say “east is east and west is west yada yada yada”?i suggest an appropriate poem to this post – a solitary reaper by wordsworth; it was my father’s favourite poem from my class xth english textbook.all said and done, like (another) someone once said, “time will heal all wounds” (sorry, exact quote not found!).- s.b.p.s.: but that ticket, that’s bad! :-(

  6. rads:i don’t write ‘personal’ blogs, i get this feeling that if i did, i might rival you on tearjerkers! did you know that the tally right now stands (i am sure you will figure out what these numbers mean) – rest of blogdom 1, rads 2!- s.b.

  7. sb – lol, sure crown me the queenofsobs or something! So tragedy is more up your alley? I’d have imagined wit and humor :)You know those were 2 wonderful poems you referred to -1. Rudyard Kipling’s refrain from the Ballad of the East and West. Excellent rendering of the scene set in Punjab/Pakistan and Afghanistan. Something about a horse being stolen and recovered, the exact thing eludes me now, and no time to google now. But the 1st 2 lines are and I quote from memory -O, East is East and West is West and never the twain shall meet,Till Earth and Sky stand present at God’s great judgement seat.. 2. Wordsworth’s solitary reaper is such a beaute! I read it in 9th grade and had to do an analysis of sorts and boy we could spend days deciphering what he would have meant and what else the verses can mean. The beauty of a poem lies in the reader to a large part. It’s as exciting or not as the reader makes it. It does match to this doesn’t it? :)Thanks for reminding them :)Also, going on record and saying, the fables aren’t my biography by any long shot. A strain from my life maybe but that’s how writers are – it’s the easiest foolproof way to write clear and clever. Take a leaf out of one’s own life. :)

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