Wednesday, April 20, 2005

Bedroom Window

I’VE never been to a pajama party. I’m not likely to either. Father says it’s not the done thing to stay over at somebody’s place, though they live just across. You can see Payal’s house from our window. Laughter is loud as the others run up the stairs. It’s the grand ending to ‘Camp Day’.

I’ve been standing at the window most of the day. Usually, I am down with them, playing, the noon sun burning down our backs. Today, they spent the day inside a tent made of bedspread. Shanti’s mother didn’t mind if the dark blue sheet patterned with big white flowers got too dirty. It had faded some time ago. By the end of the day, gulmohurs fallen loose from the branches were sprinkled on it.

There was a lot of shoving and giggling when all seven of them got in. A tape recorder, comic books, cards, and lots of munchies were added. It was such an adventure! I went in and read some of my own comic books. I got through them quickly. I had read them before. I wandered around the house a bit. Ma was busy in the kitchen.

After a while, I could smell the smoke of the burning twigs and papers. I watched from the window again. Vessels already blackened were balanced on three bricks to cook rice, dal and potatoes. Each trip back home to get something that had been forgotten – onions, haldi, kadipatta – was a noisy affair. Some chaos later, it was ready. Not as good as Ma’s cooking of course but the vessels were scraped clean. I’ve never tried cooking. Ma wont let me near the stove. She says it’s dangerous.

After lunch, they all retired to the tent. I could hear the faint strains of George Michael’s ‘Wake Me Up’. We loved jiving to that song. Meghna had asked me to join them for playing cards. But I didn’t think it would be nice to go just for that.

They were out again, when the sun sobered down, to play kho-kho. That was okay. I don’t like the game much anyway. I’m not too good at it. They stayed out a little later than usual before making their way to Payal’s house.

It’s a lovely night to stay awake. Payal’s mother makes those lovely coconut sweets for these pajama parties. She also sends them over during Diwali. Tomorrow they’ll tell me how Anil squeezed toothpaste all over Samantha’s face while she slept. That was last year. Maybe he’ll choose another victim this year.

I’ll watch some TV before turning in. I don’t think I’ll sleep much though.

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