Reality Check.

When she wipes the sweat off her temples with the free end of her saree,she smudges vermillion,smearing it all over her forehead,tinges the tip of her nose and smirks.Her eyes are bloodshot and her mouth feels sluggish and dull due to dearth of sleep resulting in mild thuds in head and heart.She finds her belongings between the creases of her dampened bedsheet like remembering dampened relationships in the fragmented conduit of her life.She retires to her bed again in deep reverie.She lies on the soft,supple baby rose petals strewn on the bed,feeling the softness of the languid features of her body.


This was one of her many attempts to reckon the sublime moments of a woman's life as against hers.Sublime,still.She slowly retires to an early evening nap,drooling on her pillow like an infant.She suddenly wakes to the sound of violent thuds on the door,and jolts back to reality.She hurriedly stashes the crumbled notes away in an empty hajmola bottle,runs to the door with her saree hitched up to her knees.Opens the door with panache and says to the strange face,to her estranged soul,"Esho!"