The Mundane Artist

You.  A year ago, you were on your bed, hardly speaking or moving. But still, you remembered us, some you called the diamonds of your eyes.  A year before that, you were on your feet greeting us with the tender kisses that was your trademark on meeting us. You wobbled through the house doing all the chores that you loved doing, that made you feel alive and well.  You.  You, in your blouse and petticoat (the blouse of myriad colours but your petticoat white, always), going about the house feeding the other human being in your house.  You, in your blouse and petticoat, sitting in front of the television watching the news or "travel TV" as you liked to call it, showering us with wonder of the places you'd visited through the television.  You.  You, in the kitchen, cooking my favourite dal with peanuts in it, or screaming from there to ask me, "Hiranshi, inda banavi aapu?" ("Hiranshi, should I cook you some eggs?")  You,...

"How is it?" I asked her as she tasted the dal khichadi I made. I was never much of a cook. But all those hours that I spent binge-watching food videos was inspiration enough for me to try. One moment I was just watching, and the next moment I was hell-bent on wanting to try out at least one of the dishes.  I decided to make dal khichadi because it is my comfort food. There's no beating it. Maybe mac and cheese and fries do come in between my commitment to it, but most of the time, on bad days due to whatever reason, it is my saviour dal khichadi that comes. "It's pretty good. Not bad for a first time," she said. I squealed in excitement. She looked at me and smiled. "What are you smiling at?" I asked. "Nothing. Just happy to see you excited for a new hobby! I can see you take this the long way," she said. I walked back to the kitchen. I put the plate down and breathed for a moment or two. Things have been difficult. We...

At this point, I did not know what was happening. I had come out with him ? I mean there's nothing wrong with him but I have never hung out with him. How did this happen?  I entered the bathroom, looked at myself in the mirror and just stood there. The only thing that was missing was a cigarette so I could spend at least 5 whole minutes doing something because this was weird to me.  He looked dazed and I felt the alcohol hitting already. The only weird thing was that we had just arrived and the first thing, before even going to our table, that I did was hit the bathroom because of how spontaneous this plan was. So, yeah. I had no alcohol in my body but I still felt... inebriated? And not the good kind. The confused kind.  After spending 5 minutes, I let out a sigh and decided to just go ahead and let the night take me wherever it goes.  "Sorry. Have you been waiting out here for a while? Did we not get a table?" I asked him.  The restaurant wa...