One hot summer day,
Unable to bear the scorching heat,
I was lying on the floor
In front of the portable fan, and
My neighbour's two year old boy
Toddling in with uncertain steps.
He had no cloths on, and
Without giving me a glance,
He sat down in front of the fan,
Looked at it happily and murmured -
Mummy! Mummy! Mummy!,
Embracing the grille of the fan
With his tender arms.
Slightly tipsy with sleepiness,
He might have been a fan
In his previous life,
And I slept.
A dream from nowhere came along.
I was in a pine forest.
It was cold and dense fog enveloped the woods.
I looked down at my feet.
I couldn't see them and I was worried.
I had to find them, else,
How could I walk back home,
A sudden wind blew away the fog, and
Standing on dry twigs and pine leaves
I saw my feet naked sans shoes.
They weren't my feet but roots with mossy toes,
Growing out of my pants.
I screamed in horror -
Where are you, my poor feet?
Winds rushed in with stampeding echoes of whispers,
And stopped in front of me.
They looked like blurred shadows of giant fans.
I asked shaken with terror -
Who are you?
What do you want from me?
Bring back our daughter,
Who is caged in your wretched room -
The leader of the fans, with a beard of spiderwebs,
Spun back with a whining hiss.
Two gigantic fans held me with rusty hands
and with one swirly pull,
I was flying with two fans, propelling,
Fixed at where my feet were,
Behind a squadron of cloudy fans,
Towards the inevitable target,
My room and sleeping me.
Stunned and frightened by the thought,
That I was going to attack myself
With the help of a gang of insane fans,
I woke up sweating like a sponge,
And found myself, alone, on the floor.
The toddler had gone back to his room.
I then looked at the fan and thought -
Goddammit! How did I miss it?
They were having an affair behind my back!
My fan and the neighbour.
Copyright © Ibohal Kshetrimayum | Year Posted 2018
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