Short Series: Milana

She stood there motionless staring into nothingness. She had been standing like that for a while now. The light from the window slowly filtered through and fell on her hair. That was the only source of light in the room. She didn't blink, she didn't move, she didn't talk.

"Welcome back to Tit-for-tat", said a voice shreaking out of the television screen from the adjacent room. Ricardo was watching some meaningless television. He did that to take his mind off things. He was in line to be sent off from work and he didn't like that feeling. He had been working in that company ever since he quit high school. He got married to Milana during that summer. She was pregnant at that time. It was a marriage that happened out of the blue, they didn't plan for it. He was wild, she was beautiful. He got drunk and she got pregnant. Ricardo got kicked out of his house when he told his parents about Milana. They didn't want to support a son who quit high school and his pregnant girlfriend. His parents were very orthodox. They had a good reputation in the neighbourhood.

The baby was crying. The shrill noise shook Ricardo out of the couch. He threw the ciggie down on the floor and got up cursing the baby. "A man can't watch some TV peacefully in this house", he barked while he took a big swig from the beer can he clutched in his hands. The baby was crying in the room next to the TV room. The noise from the TV was louder than the baby. He stormed into the room and lifted the baby from the cradle. "Shut up, you little piece of Shit. Shut up!", he screamed at the baby. "Why the hell do you cry all the time? And your mommy that witch never bothers about you". Milana had stopped talking to Ricardo. It had been 5 months since she uttered a single word to him. She never left the house. She was silent. Her world had crashed. She didn't want to exist... In that house... With that mad man.

"I'm pregnant", said Milana in a soft tone. "What?", Ricardo was shocked to hear those words. "But,how? I mean, I did use it!", he swallowed his words. He didn't know how to react. "I don't know, Ricardo. Maybe it had a hole or something. How am I supposed to know? And moreover condoms are not 100% safe all the time",clutching Ricardo's hands and shivering while she said those words. He was breathing hard. He was still in high school and he didn't know what else to do. He had to do something. He took a few deep breaths and got up and hugged Milana. "Don't worry baby, I shall work something out". He had no clue about what he could do.

"I think I should quit high school, then maybe I could check with Jack at the store to see if I could work there or something", Ricardo told her while repeating those words again louder in his mind, so as to reassure himself. She stood there next to him. Looking into those eyes that seemed like it had gotten pale. Lifeless. Afraid.


He carried the baby in his arms and walked around the house to find something for the little one to eat. He opened the fridge and saw an old packet of milk, lying cold. He brought the packet to his nose to check if it had gotten spoilt. He didn't really care much. He poured the stale milk onto a bottle and shoved it to the baby's mouth. "Eat this. Maybe that would shut you up for a while".

This happened everyday when he was at home. He had to babysit while Milana chose to stay locked up in her room. He wondered if she took care of the baby when he was not around. He knew certainly that she wouldn't bother whether the baby cried or not. That arrogant witch, he thought to himself. The phone rang then and he placed the baby on the couch and went to answer the phone. It was Jack from the store. There was some emergency and he wanted Ricardo to come to the store immediately. Something to leave this mad house, Ricardo thought as he stormed out of the house.

The baby began to cry again. This time with a lot more pain. He had thrown the bottle down and the bottle lay there with it's lid open and sour milk dripping from the opening. Milana had heard the door shut and snapped out of her trance like state. She slowly closed the blinds on her window blocking the little light that was seeping in. She took a deep breath and began to move. Slowly.

She lifted the baby into her arms and held her closely. She looked deep into the baby's eyes. Tears were rolling down her cheeks. She gently placed her fingers on the little one's face and wiped her tears. She kissed her soft on her forehead and whispered, "Don't worry my little angel. It's all going to be fine. Mommy's here now".

Pavement Revelations

The vehicular cacophony from the road was music to his ears. The rumbling sound from his tummy was the perfect percussion. Sitting on the pavement he wrote.

The words started to flow as he paused to let the moment sink in. The sky was blue and clear like a young lady’s eyes, the air smelling of crispy somosas and cheap cigarette. Putting the scribbling pad on his thigh and biting the tip of the pencil he was holding so dearly, he was watching the sights and sounds around him.

A eunuch with flashy bangles and marigold on her hair swayed her way towards him. She placed a hand on his head and blessed him or at least he wished she had. On the contrary she now stood next to him demanding money. He didn’t want to give her any and continued his distant stare into nothingness ignoring the presence of a rather dusky, brightly draped eunuch in a saree that was riding high unto her ankles. This continued for a while and the agitated woman then cursed him under her breath and walked away showing him and the few people who had gathered around an ample view of her flat chest and hairy arms.

As the evening sun slowly began setting behind the tall buildings, he could see the moon playing hide and seek with the clouds. He stopped everything that he was doing and continued to gaze at the beauty of the white ball that was playing tricks with him. A smiled escaped the corner of his mouth.

The scribbling pad now had a lot of doodles. Of little boys in sweaters, of mothers holding the hands of their little ones and walking on a street, of dogs lying under push carts selling tender coconuts, of the eunuch smiling and posing like a model.

“All that a man has to say or do that can
possibly concern mankind is in some shape
or other to tell the story of his love-
and to sing; and if he is fortunate and
keeps alive, he will be forever in love.”

He remembered Thoreau’s words that he had read in a book recently. They made so much sense, he thought to himself. Or maybe they always made sense but it was only now that he had the clarity that he could understand the essence and the meaning of those lines.

A kid with bright wide eyes came closer to him and was amazed looking at the doodles on his pad. He stood there mesmerized with a smile and pointed at one of the doodles & said something like, “Dog. Alsatian?” Was that a question that he was asking or a discovery that he just did? He wondered what it would have been, but smiled at the kid and showed a couple of tricks he had learnt from his father. It was simple, the tricks. How to make a police officer from a tea cup and how to draw a person’s face with all the numbers from 0 to 9. He was amazed looking at how his father could make something so real with such ease. And he felt the same effect and joy on the kid as it was his when he was small.

He folded the pad and placed it back into the bag he was carrying. He lit a smoke. He walked away from the pavement as he saw an elderly couple walking towards him. He always felt that smoking in the presence of elders was in some way being disrespectful and he didn’t want to do anything to annoy them or spoil their evening walk. As he walked through narrow lanes, he could see the neon lights beginning to light up the streets and the shops. There was a lot of activity on the street. He saw a bright light coming from one of the shops that sold antiques. He loved that shop. He could get some of the most amazing things from there and his house was in fact full of little things that he had bought from this shop.

The shopkeeper was a friend and he waved a friendly hello and continued to explain the working of an old grandfather clock to an eager customer. He knew his way around the shop and hence didn’t bother waiting for a sales person to direct him. He went to the corner of the room, where he knew was a drop down ladder that took him to the attic where a lot of antiques were dumped, stored not dumped according to the owner. He moved to the dimly lit attic and his nostrils were immediately filled with the smell of old rugs, dust filled books and lamps and rodent pee. He smiled to himself remembering his conversation once with the owner about cleaning up the attic and him moving in to that place filled with absolute treasures. He saw an old book dumped alongside kashmiri shawls and half-broken temple idols and some old furniture. He lifted the book and dusted the cover. The dust from the book moved up like mist with the moonlight coming into the room from a broken down window pane.

“The works of Thoreau”, it said in big bold typography.

On a sudden he knew what was going to keep him occupied.