Sense and Sensibility

And the day dawned, with Seema screaming from the toilet, ‘Mira, switch on the darned inverter. I cannot see a thing ‘. And Mira did as she was told, as she was told every morning at around 7, when with strict regularity the power used to fail.

* * * * * *

Mornings at Bangalore were lazy uniformly. Even the sun used to peep out of the dark grey blankets only well after 6. Having just managed her morning routines, Seema settled for a cold shower. Stepping out, she was already late and screaming at Mira for not giving her a warning alarm about the time. She slipped into her stunning blue salwar, hurriedly brushed her hair back, grabbed her handbag, her ID card ran a quick check on the mirror n locked the room behind her – all the while giving Mira instructions for the night’s menu.

Seema, was already 2 streets away from home. She was just crossing the main road, with the cell phone stuck between her shoulder and her neck. She was cursing herself as she was hearing the citi bank welcome prompt thanking her for her patience. Suddenly she remembered, she hadn’t locked the door. She had left behind a key. She rushed back to the front door that she had left ajar. She stopped. She saw. She thanked god.

* * * * * *

Mira had just counted her steps to the hallway and made a sharp right turn. Seema saw her walk 2 steps forward, n then turn left. She felt the wall and grabbed the key and secured herself inside the four walls of the house that she had never seen.