Geographic channel. A Wolf. The turkey he grabs by the neck- shuns it to the ground- once, twice- pits it against the hard land- the turkey is trying to get a look at the wolf may be- twisting its neck, trying to breathe, quacking, fluttering its wings in desperation. Finally, after 10 minutes of wringing and snatching and pitting it against the ground, the wolf lets it rest in peace- soaked in blood, the little creature's body lies on the ground, its legs stretched wide, body stiff. Its dead. Is it still panick-stricken? I wonder- how it feels to watch with my eyes open, someone snatch life out of me. I'm lucky I'm alive. Indeed.
"Why do you watch all this?" Ramesh knocks on the door and reaches for the remote straight.
"I'm not a depression-patient, comon, its geographic channel".
"Yeah, but why do you have to watch all these?"
"Okay fine, I don't have to".
"How was your day?" Its an obvious question, and I don't answer obvious questions. He knows. I just look at him and smile, while I unpack my lunch box. He can't stop laughing. "God! You're so mean.." Its as if he could read my mind at instances like these. I laugh.
"Let's go out. Come on, hurry. Lets go, we're running out".
"Where...are we going?" I look at him- smiling, confused, and demanding at the same time. I could feel his uneasiness- he didn't want to reveal the secret, but he didn't know how to convince me either. Like a child trying to convince his mom of something he really wants, but knows his mom will not buy the idea- he tried.
"Comon lets go. It's something different, I'll tell you once we get to the car". That was cute. I love it when men are helpless sometimes. Like a little kid.
"I don't know if I want to go". I slumped myself on the lazy couch and stretched my body. He just stood and gazed at me.
"No! lets go! It'll be fun, I promise!!".
I gazed at him for a while, thinking whether to go.
"Wear something nice". He said. I blushed. I ususally rush to places- grabbing jeans and a lousy looking sweater to put on- my hair tied up in a cold wintry day. Suraj, in Atlanta, asks me to pick a dress when we go shopping- he never told me this is what I want you to wear. Weird I'm paying too much attention to things that never existed. Anyway, this time I wanted to dump the lousy sweater and wear something different. Something expensive may be?
Twelfth Night. Shakespeare. Need I say more? Tennessee Williams would have been a different case may be. Humanitarian companies here and there are minting money painting faces of naked African children on their walls- Ramesh and I walk pass the Irish pubs I'd have loved to go. I didn't say anything. Am I betraying Suraj? No, I love him. I don't love Ramesh.
"Look at the moon!" I've never had a guy point out to the moon. "Its beautiful" I smile at him. He doesn't know there's already someone I share the beauties of life with- resting my head on Suraj's shoulders, by the lake, as the chilly wind bit us- we would count the stars- he from the east and I from the west side. It stopped way before we finished. Suraj would start counting the twinkle in my eyes instead...
To be continued...
