My first time and my Mom found out... and how?
My damned phone beeped the very moment Latika left. (Now when I think about it, I almost thank god, because considering the odds of that day it bloody well could have beeped before)
It was a message. An untimely call of a timely person with intentions!
Just my luck, I chose not to bother. How could I? I was still ‘up’ there... floating, in reverence of what had happened minutes before.
Me below her. She above. We beside each other. She under and me over. Over and over, on and on, beneath and above, rocking rhythmically, in tune with sounds of our own breaths and moans (Which by the way were loud enough to overpower the din of the sofa springs and everything else we had cracked in the process :-)
Then it beeped again, my damned phone, and I found myself on the sofa, ‘hands’ sticky and resting. I flipped it open.
‘And don’t forget to put adrak’
From: Maa 2:35 pm
The phone slipped through my hands and squelched over the puddle of slime on the floor. I glanced through the mess of the hall. Hair in all shapes, sizes strewn across, sofa’s glistening in sweat. My clothes receded in one corner, letting the objects of love take centre stage: Two tired pieces of rubber.
But what the kcuf do I put adrak into? The question seemed to have established its presence. Rather cautioning one! So I bend down (for the hundredth time :-) and picked up my phone.
Of course! There had been another message. Wait a minute.
‘I am downstairs... Make some tea please. I am coming’
From: Maa 2:27 pm
It waited for few centuries, numb and naked... life... before storming back and shoving time along into me. Then I moved.
Moved like a goddamn supersonic shit! Within seconds, clearing all the mess... vacuuming hair, wiping sofas, opening all windows for fresh air, dumping clothes in the bathroom... making sure all traces had been attended to!
Remained now were the two condoms (Which had to be wrapped in a black plastic, scented, and put underneath the books in the bag to be disposed later behind the college wall... like Jignesh- My love guru prescribed)
However, I could only empty the eggs in a tray for the plastic when the bell rang.
I took time to wet myself in the shower, find a towel, and open the door. There she was, my dearest mother (Who had almost beeped the life out of me), wearing an unsuspecting smile. She was on the phone, in a hurry. And rushed into her room. Not noticing much. So all cool!
Me had my shower, scrapping off white specks of black sin, reliving them as I rubbed on each.
Outside, the December air had filled the house, condensing its freshly vaporised secrets. The snow had jammed the bathroom door! My mother was at the basin washing something, while tea boiled angrily in the kitchen.
I could only step out when it hit me...
Tear dripped my right face. It was My pen on the floor, lying and dirty. How could she...?
Mum was washing her hands. I looked towards her, not at her but close. And she looked back looking down, her hands moving, vigorously over the overflowing basin.
Over and over, on and on, beneath and above, her two hands... I was one. The left one. The shit hand. The one that stinks. Always. No matter.
Another spurt, this time from my left eye.
But shock dripped along with tears as I slid into my room, shutting its door. Trying so hard to not believe. Trying harder to!
How come Jignesh, who knew everything, not guess that mothers in unorganised houses might not find a pen in their room and would look for it in their child’s college bag? Underneath the books which is a place for pens and not dark plastics. Kept striking me. Rather vengefully.
An hour passed in thought. The tap was on, hands still in washing. I could feel their water on my skin, ice cold and burning. Tearing. Wait... or was it my mother?
My mother... In ice and fire. Torn.
That’s it. That’s all it took. And like it was the simplest thing to do. Ever. I opened the door...
‘I am sorry mother. I let it happen in the house. I never meant to...’
Her hands stopped before I could complete.
The tap shut! After.