Back in the water

DREAMY BOY - Part 7/9 – Back in the water

The short movies on both the screens ended with displaying beautiful blank and emotionless faces of both the girls, staring at that man on the sofa, straight in the eye. He sat there still, staring back breathing heavily and his whole body turning red, indicating that he was overwhelmed with guilt. 

Although I was invisible, I realized that sitting in the same ‘Pathan’ posture for three long days can be quite laborious. My body ached, and so I finally rested my bum on the floor, stretched out my legs relaxing my calf muscles and eventually let out one of my trademark silent, slimy, greasy, and nauseating wet fart polluting the cosy little air conditioned room.

The stench was so strong that even inanimate objects within the room reacted. The air conditioner let out a coarse grin akin to how my seven year old lad would do on such occasions. The floor lamp flickered and let out chuckles like a toddler. The girls on their individual oval television set, who were displaying a stone cold emotionless face, looked down and passed on a disgusting irritated look at me, as if I had just killed their so serious setting. As my eyes met with that of the girls I got panicked and so, just turned my face away, looking towards the man on the sofa. He was listless and his system remained unaffected by my powerful yet silent biological killer.

I sat there still, staring at that man whose eyes were now turning red like a volcano about to erupt. The sight was scary, but I was more scared to turn my head the other way, lest it should meet up again with that of those angry irritated girls. Tears started to slowly trickle out from his eyes and started flooding the room. In no time I was swimming again, this time in his tears. His tears were salty, just like the sea water and I slowly swam out of the room and sequentially back to the earlier levels of my dream and eventually into the pool where I had initially dived.

I swam down to the edge of the Olympic size pool, held on to the drain on the edge and had just raised my head out of the water, when the pool keeper unloaded a bucket full of water right on my face. I was thrown instantly into a freefall and jumped out of the lower bunk bed, where I slept, and in the course ended up hitting my head to the base of the upper bunk. Oh! It hurt.

I opened my eyes, and there he was; my two and half year old lad Yo, holding an empty glass with his mischievous dimpled smile asking me to get up and go to the toilet saying “Papa doing potty? Chee chee smell. Go potty Papa”  

Behind him stood his elder brother Ken, who jumped laughing loudly and running out of the room complaining to his mom “Amma, look what Yo did! He put all the water on Papa’s face when he was sleeping, only because Papa is gassing”

Ken’s mother who was making Aloo Parathas in the kitchen reprimanded him right away saying “Ken, don’t make stories. I saw you taking water from the kitchen and giving it in Yo’s hand, and I also heard you instigating him to pour it on Papa’s face”

It was a Saturday, and already past twelve in the noon. I got up and lazily, walked up to the loo scratching my testicles and dragging my feet along.

After a nice and exhilarating session of defecation, followed by ablutions and brushing my teeth, I got out of the loo and proceeded straight to the study room, where I captured the most prestigious seat in our house, the revolving chair in front of our home computer. I logged on to my FB account and called out to my wife “Unni, my tea?”