Sunday, October 15, 2006

at home

The mottled mosaic floor with the tiny crater at the junction of the third and fourth slab to the right of the living room door has gone. My feet touch terracotta coloured tiles now.

The white formica cabinet doors are gone. The milk cooker whistles in a Tuscany coloured kitchen.

My bed with its white plastic headboard decorated with a lone hologram sticker of Hanuman (after my sister told me the story of Pet Cemetary) is gone. Antique rosewood beds are what I now sleep on.

Sophisticated slate grey has hidden the clowns that once decorated my bathroom walls.

In the soap dish a large sickly green bar of Cinthol reassures me that all has not changed.

10 comments:

smallfontkuttebaspam said...

Remote control for the whistling milk cooker in working order?

Anonymous said...

:)

apu said...

reassuring, isn't it, that cinthol ? We want to go away from home, and yet, home itself to stay unchanged, keeping treasured those old selves that we were.

... said...

:-)Isn't that nice...to have some things remain the same? At my mom's place, the milk boils over and spills out every single morning...and every morning my mom runs into the kitchen to switch off the gas AFTER the milk has spilled over.

anjali said...

:)

mumbaigirl said...

mmmm, nice.

Anonymous said...

welcome to chennai, assuming its chennai :D

small talk said...

Your writing is really swell. It's Mysore Sandal Soap for me, though.

sinusoidally said...

I completely forgot what Cinthol was like...do they still make Fresca?

the wannabe indian punkster said...

Ahh, cinthol. How utterly reassuring.