Prompt For week 6 : Sept 9th – Sept 13th, 2014.
Exercise 1: In 1000 words or less describe someone so that we feel that we know him or her. Don’t rely on descriptions such as, “he had red hair,” “she was about 70,” or “he was tall.” Avoid general terms like “beautiful, ugly, fat or thin.” SHOW us that red-haired, tall, thin, ugly man.
Looking forward to some good scenes. 🙂
Here is my take…
It has been fifteen minutes since we all have been seated to dine. We sat in our usual spots around the eight-seat, teakwood table. Amul sat in the centre with me to her right and Samurai to her left. To my right was grand pa, at the head of the table. His son sits at the other end. He is not home tonight.
‘Finish your paratha Amul’ said Meera. Amul rolled her globe round eyes in circular motion indicating non-compliance with her mother’s command. She picked the paratha from the plate as ghee tricked into a mini-pool of clarified butter. She fluttered her long eye-lashes and sealed her dislike with a snort and grim gaze.
‘Look at you’ Meera said. She held her arm and swung it as far up as she could and let go. It fell with a thud on the dining table.
‘Ouch! Maa that hurt.’
‘See, you don’t have enough energy to resist even the fall of your own arm. This generation I tell you’ she mumbled as she walked to the sink and filled it with dirty dishes.
‘What kind of logic is that? What does that have to do with me eating this ‘death-by-paratha’ she reasoned. Death-by-Meera’s-kitchen is the title dedicated her mother’s cooking. Only she is capable of making death-by-coffee, with three spoonfuls of sugar per cup. Have three cups a day and you’ll be gone in a whiff.
Amul looked at her brother and said, ‘Oye, rai-ka-pahad, eat my paratha nah?’
‘No I am full. And don’t call me that. I am Samurai not rai.’
‘Okay, okay’ she said and backed up a little trying to get rid of the paratha on her plate.
‘Hey, one extra won’t do you any harm. And look at you, being all figure conscious’ she said.
‘Not figure, Abs conscious’ he said tapping his abdomen.
‘You are a hippo on diet’ she laughed mocking diminishing the little self-image her brother had.
‘They should have named you Sumo instead of Samurai’ she added.
He grabbed a stand of hair and gave it a long tug as he dragged her head towards him. She tried to pull away slapping his wrists with all her might. The creamy soft texture of her hair stood against him from emerging victorious. She nuzzled out of his grip and knuckled him hard on his head.
He took a swing and she ducked.
Meera roared, ‘Stop it you two. Sami, go to your room and finish your homework. First do Math, then English and then Drawing. If I see you drawing, you know what I’ll do. I’ll be there is give minutes.’
He left as making funny faces at Amul. She retorted with her tongue stretched out.
She ran her hand over her hair to smoothen. She parted it even to dangle as silk curtains, on both sides masking sides of her full-moon face. Her concave cheeks seemed narrow with her hair cut short at chin-length.
Amul reluctantly dug into the paratha, took a few bites and slid her hand under the table for Bruno to consume. He is their eight year old Labrador. He came home the same day Amul was brought home from the hospital.
Amul looked at her grandfather seated across from her. He was too busy scooping up his curd rice as if that was his last meal. She watched him as he licked his fingers all the way from one end to the other and the side of his palm. He then ran the tip of his tongue in a rectangular motion across his hand picking every morsel of rice. He always told Amul that that is the best part of the meal, the final finger-licking.
She handed the last piece to Bruno and he slurped it without a trace. ‘Maa, I am done’ she said and picked me up from the chair. I am big, one-eyed, and rose-pink in color. I am her dearest friend. Her mother christened me Dollop. I belonged to her. She received me as a gift on her tenth birthday and I stayed with her until Amul was born.
Amul looked at her grand pa and said, ‘Story time grand pa.’
‘I am coming. Go on, brush your teeth. Don’t drag your teddy bear on the floor’ he said as she walked towards her bedroom.