Boredom.

An absolutely bored wife stared right across the table. Her husband was still fingering the phone. An affair? She wondered. No. He is too clean for that. But all these apps, old friends, football.

"I will just use the restroom and come back." She nodded.
He came back to the phone.

"Do you have 100 rs?" She took the money and gave it.
He walked out and bought cigarettes. Came back again to the phone.

Well, she kept staring. Not knowing where this would end, or begin even. Tears hurried to flow down, but she controlled them. That heart ache and tightness was back. This was an everyday affair. No conversations. Even if there were, it had stopped exciting either of them. She had devotedly followed football for his sake. Listened to new genres of music. Read politics and developed viewpoints on subjects that would interest him. But it seemed inadequate. He went back to the phone.

Boredom crept in, and that emptiness was back again. The heartache increased. She felt it would explode and pieces of her grief would scatter around. No one would pick it up. No one would even know.

The Snuggle

At 3:30 pm, the bell rang and I jumped up thinking, he is home early. He is home early because I told him I was unwell again. He really cares.

I flung myself at him. And loved that musky smell that came from him. All I wanted now was to snuggle and go back to sleep.

These nostrils were bothering me, too much blocked like Whitefield road on a Monday. Urgh! Why do I bother now. He is here, and well the snuggle is to be looked forward to.

He did come over to the bed. Gave me his usual dose of kisses. Then said, "the match is at 4:30..."

Oh! Oh! Well. Ok.

Life is not fair always. It's ok. It would be ok.

Today You, Tomorrow, Me.

It was a blessing in disguise when a small unisex parlour opened right outside our apartment. Both for Unni and for me. He gets his regular awesome beard trim, and I go through my tweezing in there. Started by a couple who worked as hairstylists in posh parlours in the city, their dream was to employ some people, earn a good living and give their son a better life. Carefully picked girls and a boy worked there as assistants. During our visits, we saw some leave, some stay, and the owner complained to us that this profession was tough because getting someone skilled was nearly impossible.

Yesterday was an eye opener for me. The girls working there were from the North East. Young, away from home for a living, the owner and his wife gave them a room to stay - and it is more like home away from home, according to the girls. But the problem begins with the local men, around this area, who come for facials and other beauty treatments. It is a unisex parlour - but for many, the name unisex, means a lot more than that.

A girl seemed scared yesterday - she has been handed over Rs.500 as a tip for a facial. She was worried if the man would ask her to do anything more. But it was a customer after all. Her friend who was giving me a head massage told me, "these things are common Didi...they think, we are dirty girls, because we are not from here." Sometimes during head massages, men hold their hands to show where they need to massage. Sometimes, they request for chest massages during facials. Sometimes, an overwhelming tip like yesterday, leave them in the fear that they could be asked something more than the facial.

I told the girl to talk to the owner. She said, they do complain to him, and sometimes, he sits with them during head massages. But for facials which are done in a small room, there is hidden trouble. She also fears, a local could probably harass them and get the place closed down. She also fears, she would lose the monthly income sent to her family. She looked helpless, but she seemed to think this was how her life was meant to be.

What is really with the world, I think? As I was paying and getting out, I saw this man, who had gotten a complexion enhancement facial - behind his dark face, and eyes, there seemed to be an emotion that I seemed to recognise. The one that we as women see everyday on the streets - of lust, of raping women with eyes, of wondering what lies beneath our clothes.

I thought to myself, workplace, streets, buses, trains...we have no escape sister.

Today, you. Tomorrow, me.