Sunday Column by Buddhapriya Biswas (Part – 1)

Donuts for Dinner – 1

Alone home, household chores left untouched. Dishes on sink kept lonely. Pillows scattered on couch alike the leaves of willows. There’s a coral saturated dim light in the living territory. Quiet and quite wet weather, crying for the Sun to meet. Me, standing still on the territory, admiring the fairy lights half tangled cheek by jowl. After finishing the cup, I took it to the kitchen cabinet and placed it. The doorbell rang. I peeped, and there was no one. My blood ran cold. The trepidation was honking. I went to the shower to take a nap under the faux rain. But it felt strange, it felt parallelly like catacombs for a living being, much of muchness. There was enough air to breathe, but for me it was ‘water, water everywhere, nor any drop to drink’.

Hustling with the torment, I swallowed and headed towards the translucent glass window.

Suddenly, the glass went transparent and reflected blood stains. On the spur of the moment I took aback, gravity pulled me, and I was on the floor. I was lying there unconsciously, unknowingly, abstractedly, carelessly on a knife, peacefully.