I am open in my disdain of self appointed uterus status inquirers. So much so that most of them have backed off now. I show it in a frown or by outright saying NO or sometimes changing the topic in a jiffy. But there still remain a few who are persistent in trying to find out whether a couple is going to have little humans or not.
‘Ramlah.’ She was told it meant ‘Sand’, some kind of valuable sand. Why would her parents name her dirt? Well, it did explain why they treated her the way they did. Her father had died in a drunken brawl and her mother decided to run away with the first man who came knocking on her door. Leaving her, like dirt washed ashore, with her grand mother.
The House was a spectacular sight. Even in the yellowed photo I carried around, it stood tall and proud, reveling in its own grandeur. No one knew for sure how old it was. At the last count, five generations of family had lived and died there, each leaving a mark only my grandmother could tell.
Bookstores and restaurants evoke the same emotions in me. Well, more like feeeeelingsss. It’s a bewildering concoction of excitement, dread, anticipation, guilt, joy, and sorrow.
It doesn’t take much
Perfect human beings don’t interest me.
