'Two tiny feet' by Vijayalakshmi Sridhar

I fell for your fair skin and Varun Dhawan-smile; I took the seat next to you.

The corporation bus brr-brred throughout the night.

By morning the monster had moved from my stomach to grip my throat.

We get down at your stop. Smoking gray hilltops in the first light, pale yellow battalus swinging in the breeze outside tents. I capture the image in my heart, never to let go.

What is your best attribute- you ask when I wobble in pain and snap a super fast response: I can shoot down a bunch of crows in a single bullet. Really? You ask in disbelief. I open the pouch tucked into my waist. Rattle all the crow-black eyes in my palm.

I swim in a sticky puddle and a lean girl in a cotton saree brings the baby. I rub the crown on her tiny head. What do you want to name your look-alike? Ellamma, Eedamma, Akinamma? I tell you that I crave Botti masala gravy.

Your mom and two other ladies search for my mangalsutra, poke me with a thousand questions.  

I wake up to a deafening hush. Is he your husband- the lean girl points at you and I snort. Tell fast; your girl is sick. I tell her we are bus friends.  

A rainbow curves at the edge of my vision. Voices drown me. I wiggle my toes joined by turmeric shoots.

You appear with the bundle. The tiny feet are peeking out. Your brows are in a painful arch. ‘Don’t; it’s bad luck.’ The ladies stop you. I squirm to resist but you press those tiny feet on my breasts. Say a loud prayer for her comeback. Coldness inches through me in waves. The voices rise to a crescendo. Somewhere there is my squeak too.