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Yesterday I went to a counsellor with my mother. We were late because the doctor's office was quite a distance from my house. (Vashi to Babulnath can take a while!) But I always like taking the new highway and try to stop my heart from lurching with love and awe every time I see the skyline! Anyway, the drive was fun, even if long. The session was short, though, and I guess there wasn't much breakthrough. But I noticed that after nearly 6 years, I bought and wore a necklace in German silver, earrings, and went for coffee with a friend. So, small steps maybe...but a little bit of joy.
This morning, on a lark, I gave a scene to my mom and her masseuse to act out.
The scene was this: There's a matriarch of a large family that is largely absent. She is still a stickler for propriety and so, even in a large empty house, instead of having her meals in the bedroom in front of the T.V., she still has the table laid out, the chandelier polished, the drapes match the table placements, and the silver polished until they shone. She lives only with a maid who doubles up as a cook. They have lived together, like this, for nearly a decade. While they are mistress and maid and that distinction is still apparent, a certain familiarity has permeated the equation. The maid can approach the mistress without a preamble and simply ask for money to buy salt or ask for the extra tube of purple lipstick the mistress was about to throw away.
One evening, the maid comes in to ask the mistress about the half-eaten dinner on the table. The mistress looks up and says that she had cleared the plates herself. After all, she knew the maid would be out in the garden anyway. The maid is not convinced. The custard has spilled on the mats, the chicken is shredded but not eaten, the gravy has spilled and stained the tablecloth. She's listing each such aberration when she notices her mistress's gaze to someone behind her. The hair on her neck stands and she realizes who it is. The dead need to eat too.
After some initial joking and stuff, they did the scene. I think they were quite good.
Maybe I SHOULD write a movie. A good, horror film.
This morning, on a lark, I gave a scene to my mom and her masseuse to act out.
The scene was this: There's a matriarch of a large family that is largely absent. She is still a stickler for propriety and so, even in a large empty house, instead of having her meals in the bedroom in front of the T.V., she still has the table laid out, the chandelier polished, the drapes match the table placements, and the silver polished until they shone. She lives only with a maid who doubles up as a cook. They have lived together, like this, for nearly a decade. While they are mistress and maid and that distinction is still apparent, a certain familiarity has permeated the equation. The maid can approach the mistress without a preamble and simply ask for money to buy salt or ask for the extra tube of purple lipstick the mistress was about to throw away.
One evening, the maid comes in to ask the mistress about the half-eaten dinner on the table. The mistress looks up and says that she had cleared the plates herself. After all, she knew the maid would be out in the garden anyway. The maid is not convinced. The custard has spilled on the mats, the chicken is shredded but not eaten, the gravy has spilled and stained the tablecloth. She's listing each such aberration when she notices her mistress's gaze to someone behind her. The hair on her neck stands and she realizes who it is. The dead need to eat too.
After some initial joking and stuff, they did the scene. I think they were quite good.
Maybe I SHOULD write a movie. A good, horror film.
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