A Modish Sita’s Stance

As mute spectators – I stood biting my lips and he with a furrowed forehead, sultry in the heat we muttered, “ What the fuck”.

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I causally stepped  into the neat, basement  college cafeteria along with my circle of damsels; the music of Bob Marley  pulsated in my ears through the headset,  with my smartphone in one of the pockets of my multi-coloured harem pants, the blaring volume of debate over college politics made the melody faint.

He pitched a nugget to hit my posterior and I repaid him a contemptuous look, hailed by frivolous hoot by his flock of raucous friends, dared by thumbs down by my gang of boisterous maidens. This shrewd lad was new in town, had rose to fame within a few days of joining my National Art College; convincingly for his strong opinion over a wide subject matter and obviously, he was blessed with cuteness. 

 “I find you a pompous being; however I’m awestricken by your attractive looks …” I had declared to him, in the college corridor, during a scornful dispute, “… during drought of handsome chaps to gaze at”, to which he generously blew air kisses and I hit the hovering kisses in the direction of the waste bin exclaiming, “Bad breath!”

My irksome behaviour towards him erupts from being a neighbour,  he resides bang opposite to my apartment, with this apartment window  in direct view of  peep; initially  he intrigued  me with flaunt of his eight pack abs, until I was caught red-handed by my frantic mom, who reported the incident to my conservative dad. A loud argument in our residential complex made us aware  that our eerie parents were quarrelling  to guilt the culprit; his defending  parents blandly stated their son   was as decent as  Lord Ram , to which   my  old school parents  awkwardly declared I was as innocent as Goddess Sita; as mute spectators –  I  stood biting my lips and he with a furrowed forehead, sultry in the heat we muttered, “ What the fuck”.

And the last thing I knew was he was in my college too, and I am strictly warned by my parents, “Sita, don’t you dare glance at Ram again”

 … And we often meet in the basement parking of our residence, of course, for a fist fight.  

Author: mirandavoice

I am the author of the blog, mirandavoice.com, which is based on photography, fiction and non-fiction piece of writing. I am also the author of another blog, masalahealth.wordpress.com: A blog of innovative and healthy food recipes written in an unorthodox format. I am a recipe developer. I have an inherent ability to create recipes with new flavours using natural ingredients - I create both vegetarian and non-vegetarian recipes, for this I usually use less number of ingredients to keep the recipe simple and easy, which are certainly tasty and are beneficial to health in general. Each recipe is written according to my awareness of the recipe when I create it, in a writing skill which is very easy for the reader to comprehend. Sylvia Miranda (mirandapresence@gmail.com)

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