It had been a particularly exhausting week (around three
weeks ago) and I hadn’t been sleeping well too.
When finally Sunday came around, I wanted to wake up late and also catch
some sleep in the afternoon. This pattern
of my wishful Sundays has been going on for too long. After the frustration and irritation of
missed Sunday siestas invariably due to sounds and noise, I have taken this in
my stride and have learnt to go sleepless.
But that Sunday, I was desperate for some sleep in the afternoon. Mamoon doesn’t want to sleep in the
afternoon, though whenever Shruti and I cajole her into getting some sleep on
Sundays and holidays, after initial protests, she is usually the first to nod
off and would sleep soundly for a couple of hours at least. But Mamoon resists and we sometimes don’t have
the energy to argue with her and as it happens, a couple of Mamoon’s friends
come over and Shruti graciously tells me to go catch my forty winks and says
she’d keep an eye on them. I feel
horribly guilty about this. I lie down
and try very hard, and some noise disturbs me and I can’t sleep. I get up within twenty minutes totally
disjointed and mad. So, the next week, I
tell Shruti that I’d take care of Mamoon and ask her to catch up with some
sleep. Shruti falls asleep easily. Chalo, at least somebody is getting some
sleep.
This part of the narrative is connected to the other part that
concerns the crumbling walls around me. No,
it is not as serious as it sounds. At first
when this used to happen I would be astonished.
How the hell, sort of reaction. It
used to (and continues to…) happen somewhat like this … I would go to the
bedroom dressing table, have a look around, and then go and stand in front of
the medicine cabinet and would be looking at the things kept on top of the
washing machine … I am obviously looking for something … and out of the blue I’d
hear Shruti’s voice, ‘the red hair brush
is inside the cupboard below the dressing table…,’ I snap my head in her
direction … how the hell … she has a wicked smile on her face … it was and is
uncanny … then this started to happen too often for my comfort … she was
tracing my line of thought … following my eye movement, head movement, my
expressions … and then … wham! ‘your sweater is in the washing machine’ ‘we shall have biriyani for dinner today’
… I would be thinking about momos in the morning, and there she was thrusting a
bag of momos towards me in the evening … how maan? Can anybody track somebody’s thoughts and
movements so accurately? Maybe I have stayed long enough with Shruti for her to
understand every expression and every movement … yeah, but, who has the
patience to observe … I feel like Watson before Holmes … have I become so transparent,
I wondered … she would be observing me all the time (can’t help … too much
love, you see …) but sometimes she’d just keep quiet, won’t say anything sparing
a thought for my fragile feelings … aeh, I have become too predictable …
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