Floss, bleach, brush - once with Sodium BiCarb and then again with Colgate-Super Whitening toothpaste. He was very particular about this nightly routine. A routine that not only gave him a dazzling smile, but had also, in the process of doing so, made his teeth sensitive. At 23, Ajay could not eat sweets, because his jaw would hurt for a day and a half. And then came Sensodyne.
So, now, Ajay's nightly routine had to accommodate one more member. These additions have to stop was that last thing to enter his mind as he drifted to sleep. Clouds gathered in the night sky to hide the moon.
October skies have never been kind to the soul, but then again, which wintry night has ? September eloped with August, making October wait for November. Like a woman scorned or a particularly vindictive man, October lashed and whipped the poor working class, the commuters, the cyclists, the motorists, the factory workers, the children and uncategorized snorers like Ajay Ramaswamy.
While his nights were quite unremarkable, unreflective, Ajay's wake up hours were unusually existential. He was never in a rush. If he had to show up for work at 8:30, he would wake up at 8 am and stare out of his window and think to himself, as he ponders today, Is this all a dream ? Can sleep itself ever be a dream ?
His mind wanders to his grandparents' Gujarati verandah, more a marbled porch than a gardened terrace. His mind takes him back to when he was five.
The scorching afternoon sun meant the elders took a nap. This left five year old Ajay and his seven year old neighbor Meena to frolic in the construction sand dropped off by government contractors. Today, Ajay and Meena would build the largest house in the world - with Sabarmati sands. They had an hour to design, break ground and execute this epic project. Meena digs into the soft mound, while Ajay looks for small chunks of clay.
The foundation gives way after fifteen minutes of hard labor and the project is quickly shelved. Meena and Ajay retreat to the cool verandah - two little refugees. Ajay babbles on about how they should steal some bricks next time, while Meena scans the asphalt landscape for mirages that carried stories of far away lands. Yes they do carry stories, she would exclaim with the sort of wisdom that only a seven year old could effectively convey, each time Ajay mocked Meena's beliefs. For five, he was logical, too logical bordering on Spockish pragmatism.
I saw my parents kiss last night, Meena says. Ajay stops talking immediately.
Really ? On the mouth ?, his eyes widen.
Yes.
That's bad, no ?
Well, my mom said, its ok.
Its not ok ! Its bad to kiss. My parents never kiss !
Its ok to kiss if you love each other.Meena's words often went far beyond the conservative nature of the place and era.
Ajay looks into Meena's big brown eyes, in disbelief.
Meena leans over and planted a kiss on Ajay's lips. Their mouths touch for exactly three and a half seconds. Meena withdraws.
Does this mean we are in love ? asks Ajay.
Do you love me ?
Ajay had woken up to a question that was best left unanswered. In almost two decades after his summer kiss on the verandah, Ajay had become an expert at dodging matters of the heart. His pondering stops with the ominous buzz of the cell phone. It buzzes twice and stops. It is a message from the mother of his almost-unborn.
Do you love me ?
Ajay leaves to brush his teeth and today, he will skip Sensodyne.
So, now, Ajay's nightly routine had to accommodate one more member. These additions have to stop was that last thing to enter his mind as he drifted to sleep. Clouds gathered in the night sky to hide the moon.
October skies have never been kind to the soul, but then again, which wintry night has ? September eloped with August, making October wait for November. Like a woman scorned or a particularly vindictive man, October lashed and whipped the poor working class, the commuters, the cyclists, the motorists, the factory workers, the children and uncategorized snorers like Ajay Ramaswamy.
While his nights were quite unremarkable, unreflective, Ajay's wake up hours were unusually existential. He was never in a rush. If he had to show up for work at 8:30, he would wake up at 8 am and stare out of his window and think to himself, as he ponders today, Is this all a dream ? Can sleep itself ever be a dream ?
His mind wanders to his grandparents' Gujarati verandah, more a marbled porch than a gardened terrace. His mind takes him back to when he was five.
The scorching afternoon sun meant the elders took a nap. This left five year old Ajay and his seven year old neighbor Meena to frolic in the construction sand dropped off by government contractors. Today, Ajay and Meena would build the largest house in the world - with Sabarmati sands. They had an hour to design, break ground and execute this epic project. Meena digs into the soft mound, while Ajay looks for small chunks of clay.
The foundation gives way after fifteen minutes of hard labor and the project is quickly shelved. Meena and Ajay retreat to the cool verandah - two little refugees. Ajay babbles on about how they should steal some bricks next time, while Meena scans the asphalt landscape for mirages that carried stories of far away lands. Yes they do carry stories, she would exclaim with the sort of wisdom that only a seven year old could effectively convey, each time Ajay mocked Meena's beliefs. For five, he was logical, too logical bordering on Spockish pragmatism.
I saw my parents kiss last night, Meena says. Ajay stops talking immediately.
Really ? On the mouth ?, his eyes widen.
Yes.
That's bad, no ?
Well, my mom said, its ok.
Its not ok ! Its bad to kiss. My parents never kiss !
Its ok to kiss if you love each other.Meena's words often went far beyond the conservative nature of the place and era.
Ajay looks into Meena's big brown eyes, in disbelief.
Meena leans over and planted a kiss on Ajay's lips. Their mouths touch for exactly three and a half seconds. Meena withdraws.
Does this mean we are in love ? asks Ajay.
Do you love me ?
Ajay had woken up to a question that was best left unanswered. In almost two decades after his summer kiss on the verandah, Ajay had become an expert at dodging matters of the heart. His pondering stops with the ominous buzz of the cell phone. It buzzes twice and stops. It is a message from the mother of his almost-unborn.
Do you love me ?
Ajay leaves to brush his teeth and today, he will skip Sensodyne.
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