The boss was trying to get chummy with his staff; one of the juniors laughed, patting his humongous tummy, another hid a smirk. The boss looked at him, a picture of phlegmatic equanimity, closer to a devil -may -care attitude.
One man was a disaster of frumpy clothing, and dishevelled hair. Another, a dapper one, hastily noted something on a notepad. A quietude, roared inside my heart, loud enough to drown the mad cacophony in the room. ...
Well, this was how my novel began.
My mind was actually multitasking.
Like it always does. Like it always does.
It tossed away this task, ignoring the boss,
flying away to the fresh yield of the kitchen garden.
Potatoes, onions, cabbage, and tomatoes [yes, tomatoes!] blushing red at their deterrent cost. The boss in my story seemed to be lost, with no intention of being found. “What the heck! Get a reality check.” He was bellowing.
A smiling man in a white shirt was hello-ing the scowling man in the next cabin, who was staring at the wall, his eyes limpid pools, hands balled into fists. Perhaps his dreams were squirming on those walls.
My mind had again flown- this time to a Fat Man. I remember seeing that movie Fat Man and Little Boy. Can euphemisms lessen devastation, huh ? I wondered, watching my mind blundering from the killing fields to the rich yields of my kitchen garden.
“Beg your pardon!” Said the shirker. The boss glowered, lowering his voice to a hiss.
The mind was back, ears pricked to the pleas of a mother still hunting for her lost son. “He is just lost. He will come back. Where are you, Najeeb?”
Am I guilty of rambling? Well, that is what a multitasker does.
What about those who are guilty of so many abominable things,
but don’t bat an eyelid?
Case closed. But not for the mother. Not for the mother.
She is still waiting- waiting – waiting – the Eternal wait.
“They will have to bow down before a mother.
No one can smother her pleas.” She shouts a heart- wrenching shout,
thumping an indignant fist in the toxic air.
The Boss was again bellowing. Like he always does. Like he always does.
“The sun has gone missing. It is cloudy.” Trilled the mockingbird outside. Like it always does- Like it always does. Till it can trill no more.
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