Playing with milk…

Someone from the crowd went up to the woman on the road and wiped her face with his dhoti.
What the hell! It was my mom.
“You ass… Dad’s come back and waiting and you’re still here playing the fool. Godamn it! Come on now, show time’s over.”
I grabbed her hand.
“Aargh… Come on, don’t irritate me now. Come on… Ok, I’ll get you the milk. Come on…”

“Rahul… Go out and get milk for me please. Be a good boy… It’s just a few minutes from here…”
“So, then why don’t you go get it, huh? Don’t bother me now, I’m busy.” I say fiddling with my mobile.

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All fights in my family will boil down to this. While my mom shouts her head hoarse, I observe a staunch silence, which angers my mom even more. Wow, the fun you get out of this little game is a feeling you need to experience.

So again, it was my mom who put on her slippers and walked slowly out, leaving the front door open and not even bothering to inform me about her trip knowing fully well that I would be watching her behind her back.
“What the hell! Atleast close the door behind you if not anything else. Idiot!”

I loved shouting at her; I took immense pleasure out of making her cry. I don’t know the reason behind it. Maybe because it’s just a routine ritual nowadays. Like brushing your teeth in the mornings. Or maybe as she says, I don’t have a heart. But I swear, I hear my heart thump. So, it must be another of her numerous lies.

Time passed. My dad came home.
“Where’s mom?” he asked.
“I don’t know. I think she went out to buy milk.”
“Go, look for her. We both need to go for a meeting in an hour…”
“Ok dad…”

I didn’t dare disobey. I maintained a neat profile with my dad. I impressed him with my numerous antics. I love flaunting my good-guy image for this man’s sake. A brilliant case of multiple personalities.

I didn’t have any interest in looking out for her. To hell with her, I thought.

There was a road show taking place at the far end of the road. It had attracted a lot of people. I made my way toward the crowd.
The play was a good one. A woman was lying on the road as if dead and loads of blood-red paint had been smeared on her and on the road.
There was a guy, who pretended to be a doctor, taking her pulse and shaking his head. He then stood up and solemnly said “I’m sorry… She has died…” and started to walk away.

I clapped. It was a good play.
Everyone turned to look at me.
What?! Wasn’t that the climax?

Someone from the crowd went up to the woman on the road and wiped her face with his dhoti.
What the hell! It was my mom.
“You ass… Dad’s come back and waiting and you’re still here playing the fool. Godamn it! Come on now, show time’s over.”
I grabbed her hand.
“Aargh… Come on, don’t irritate me now. Come on… Ok, I’ll get you the milk. Come on…”
“Mom? Mom? Get up… please… I’m sorry, mom… please get up… mom? Please mom, I’ll get the milk… please… please…”

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