Wednesday, September 29, 2004


Tanya spent too much time in her room these days. Every night she’d open the curtains, and every morning she’d close them back. She was beginning to hate the sun’s heat. It deprived her of purpose. If she went and stood there, naked, with nothing to protect her, she knew she’d survive unscathed. The warmth of the sun would fall on her, just as it did on everyone else without bias, without feeling and she would have nothing to worry about.

The night was a different story. The cold night air would blow into her room. Perhaps it didn’t do that to every room. The breeze had definite direction, unlike the sun’s rays, which simply went everywhere. Often, it would be her room into which the wind would blow. She’d wait for the crispy air to threaten and haunt her. She would then take her blanket and put it around her, and smile smugly at the formless breeze. It was the only time she smiled during the entire day. She’d perfected the feeling of purposefulness.

Curiosity gets the better of so many people. Tanya spent too much time away from the world in the day that she wondered what morning dew felt, when even as you were seeing it, it evaporates. What it was to revel in the sudden coolness you get when the cloud comes over your head and gives you a minute of respite. The peaceful sight of dogs curled up on piles of sand on a hot summer day.

All she took was a peep one day. She opened the curtains and looked out. There was a little boy in a fruit shop who waved at her. Not for a moment did he think that it was strange that there was a face out of the window. For him, faces were to wave at. Somewhere at another corner on the street, a group of people lifted their hands. This time, not to wave, but to point. They had been on earth long enough to have prejudices and stereotypes so grilled into them, that they’d forget to wave. All they did was point at something or someone and group it under one of the very many pessimistic categories that they had.

Tanya looked out with a sense of urgency. She had to get out there. She had to get out there before the boy grew up and confused idiosyncrasies with insanity. Before he grew up and forgot the use of most of his fingers. Tanya ran down the stairs, to smile at the boy who called out to her. As she came out of the door, she saw a mother holding the baby up to the sun. Tanya came out and chose a patch of road where there was no shade. She didn’t need it. The warmth came to her, without bias, without feeling, soothed her pale skin and melted her cold heart.


yet another1 said...

hey really nice piece - what was the inspiration?
and loved the parents one too...

Anaztazia said...

hi a1,

thanks for dropping by.
inspiration - well, i lost an entire file that was set to be a blog of 3-4 parts on my comp. didn't know where i'd saved it. i figured the shorter version will do, and it turned out better than the bigger boringly dragging version.


buckwaasur said...

good one anaz...:-))
keep it up! :-)