November 11, 2019
"Mes de los Muertos"

 

Save My Marriage: An Existential Crisis

 
 
 

Save My Marriage: An Existential Crisis

The whistle of the rice cooker. The smell of boiled eggs, vegetables. The soup that you had for breakfast with the eggs that you scrambled. The sound of the oil crackling in the pan on the oven. The smell of your skin. The coffee cup ... and then everything disappear ... your smell ... your presence ... the kitchen where you cooked ... I look behind and find that you had been cooking for a long ... long ... long ... time. Now, the stove has run out of the gas; you left me ages ago and now pice hotels appear to be the five-star dinning houses. I succumb ... I HAVE RUN OUT OF GAS! Pointless dreaming up meals that I share with nobody ... . HUNGRY, ANGRY TIMES BLOW UP AND I LIE IN BITS, BODY PARTS STREWN ON THE STREETS ... Was the attack necessary? Was the meltdown needed? WHERE CAN I FIND YOU AGAIN? Why did you have to go? Was this ... Must be this was necessary. The whistle of the rice cooker... The ... whistle ... whistle ... I have not had a rice meal for months ... The whistle, the smell of your skin ... the smell of boiled vegetable ... I go hungry for days, for weeks ... Good that you left ... the rice cooker ... The whistle ...






Article © Pranab Ghosh. All rights reserved.
Published on 2019-05-20
Image(s) are public domain.


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By Pranab Ghosh: