Wednesday, March 13, 2013

Jeevansathi (Micro Fiction)

“Are you grilling them? Cook the Sheek Kebabs in water, they taste tender and are healthier!”

It was Saturday evening and the palatial living room of Manveen’s parental home rang with energized talk of real estate investments, jewellery purchases and palazzo pants. The women showcased their provider’s earning capacity while the men glowed with magnanimity over premium liquor, having given their wives permission to sip wine.

The talk moved to !

“There seems a famine of nicely brought up, suitable girls for our sons these days?” grumbled Mrs. Dhingra. “Most are too educated plus the money they make is going to their heads. And would you believe it, the last match we explored rejected our proposal because of location preference. Imagine!”

The pita bread snapped as Pammi auntie mumbled over the tastefully arranged platter, “I am quite liberal and mentally prepared that Titu’s bride will wear skirts and tank tops. Of course, she will go clubbing with him. A drink once in a while is all right too.”

Dabbing at her mouth with the embroidered serviette, it was Mrs Kalra's turn to fret, “The change in values has been so drastic. I think most young brides-to-be these days would only be too happy not to have to deal with a mum-in-law at all. I would be quite fine with giving my daughter-in-law her space but please, it scares me to think she might take our son away from us.”

“My Titu is a handsome Sikh but I am not fixated on appearances. I feel looks can be taken care of with polishing and grooming but I draw the line at smoking. It is against our religion, leave alone the health risks!” Pammi auntie was emphatic.

Manveen had heard enough. She put down the Sheek Kebab tray on the center table after having taken it around the room. Her ears quivering in the direction of the bhangra beats coming from across the manicured lawn, she plucked her way along the exotic flower beds towards the shaded gazebo. It was dark inside and she paused tentatively at the arched doorway. A solo ember described a quarter arc at the far end where Titu sat smoking, in his turban.


jingle bells said...

I love this one, and also 'isolation'. 'The show and don't tell' is so impressively effective. I could sit and dissect these, and study them and learn a bunch of stuff!

But for today, all your micro fiction was a fun read :)

Neerja Singh said...

Thank you ji!