It’s strange how the sight of a blue-white hawaii chappal under a teakwood dining table can break your heart and mend your life all at once.
A quaint little Sarojini Nagar house on the ground floor with a big-ass teakwood dining table and yellowish-white curtains. A seven-year old version of you lying on the floor, naked. A fain memory of your cousin’s weight on your body. Your eye focused on the blue-white hawaii chappal under the dining table.
The confusion after, the breathlessness, the horror of it all. No wonder your seven-year old brain blocks it out.
Years later, the memory just comes flooding back on a lazy Sunday morning as you’re sipping chai that your cousin just brought you and your eye wanders to a hawaii chappal under the dining table. That dining table.
And what do you do? Start blogging about it. Anonymously.