(I felt an urge to write a story. Not because it was great, but because I had a plot.)
xxx
She doesn’t go out anywhere important without wearing black kajal.
So she was surprised when she couldn’t find her kajal pencil on Wednesday morning. ‘Why, I just wore it to work yesterday,’ she thought. ‘Maybe it’s fallen down somewhere, or maybe I kept it near the other mirror.’ She told herself that she will find it once she gets back home from work. No time now.
She got home and checked under all the cupboards, in the bathroom, other rooms, but it wasn’t anywhere to be seen. ‘Damn, I’ll have to buy another one,’ she thought without feeling particularly sad. The way you feel sad when you lose a mass produced, easily replaceable, not too expensive consumer product. Category-cosmetics.
The makeup kit in which she used to keep all her makeup seemed emptier than usual. ‘Oh the mascara is not their either’.
And the lip-liner.
Pink lipstick.
Increasing panic.
Its not lost! Its stolen.
‘Mama, 4 things are missing!’
‘Oh yes. The maid was absent yesterday and sent her young daughter instead. The one who likes fancy things a bit too much.’
You can see that in some people.
‘She must have taken it. It can’t be the other maid because she’s been here since a while and nothing has gone. Or maybe it went in stages and I only noticed when she took the kajal because I wear that everyday.'
‘It’s the young girl. Her eyes are everywhere,’ mother decided.
Mother confronted the young girl’s mother. The other mother felt hurt in the same way you do when someone accuses a family member, even one with a reputation.
‘Oh! I hope she doesn’t spit in my food or cleans my room badly,’ fretted the daughter.
‘I've already asked my daughter,’ said the maid, ‘and she told me that she hadn’t taken it.’
So the mother also thought that there could have been a chance.
‘I don’t want the daughter cleaning my room. What if I don’t get that shade of pink again. Besides I can’t keep on wasting money buying the same things over and over again. I’d rather buy a nice dress to wear next Friday night.’
A few days later it was discovered that the grandfather’s toolkit was missing.
‘It must have been the father’s peon,’ he tried to deduce.
‘Or the maid,’ said the grand daughter.
xxx
The young man had been sent up to deposit a heavy package. Seeing no one around he thought that it might be the perfect opportunity to explore the room of the young daughter.
What he really wanted was to breathe her space. Touch her clothes.
All those rows of make-up. Surely she won’t miss a few of them.
She wouldn’t. But the man chose one that she would.
Fast now. Must leave.
He thought about giving some stuff to his newly wedded wife. The one who becomes the girl he stole from late at night. You know.
But he just kept the stuff with him in his pocket. He hadn’t dared to take the black brassier.
And he really didn’t take the tool-kit.
xxx
She doesn’t go out anywhere important without wearing black kajal.
So she was surprised when she couldn’t find her kajal pencil on Wednesday morning. ‘Why, I just wore it to work yesterday,’ she thought. ‘Maybe it’s fallen down somewhere, or maybe I kept it near the other mirror.’ She told herself that she will find it once she gets back home from work. No time now.
She got home and checked under all the cupboards, in the bathroom, other rooms, but it wasn’t anywhere to be seen. ‘Damn, I’ll have to buy another one,’ she thought without feeling particularly sad. The way you feel sad when you lose a mass produced, easily replaceable, not too expensive consumer product. Category-cosmetics.
The makeup kit in which she used to keep all her makeup seemed emptier than usual. ‘Oh the mascara is not their either’.
And the lip-liner.
Pink lipstick.
Increasing panic.
Its not lost! Its stolen.
‘Mama, 4 things are missing!’
‘Oh yes. The maid was absent yesterday and sent her young daughter instead. The one who likes fancy things a bit too much.’
You can see that in some people.
‘She must have taken it. It can’t be the other maid because she’s been here since a while and nothing has gone. Or maybe it went in stages and I only noticed when she took the kajal because I wear that everyday.'
‘It’s the young girl. Her eyes are everywhere,’ mother decided.
Mother confronted the young girl’s mother. The other mother felt hurt in the same way you do when someone accuses a family member, even one with a reputation.
‘Oh! I hope she doesn’t spit in my food or cleans my room badly,’ fretted the daughter.
‘I've already asked my daughter,’ said the maid, ‘and she told me that she hadn’t taken it.’
So the mother also thought that there could have been a chance.
‘I don’t want the daughter cleaning my room. What if I don’t get that shade of pink again. Besides I can’t keep on wasting money buying the same things over and over again. I’d rather buy a nice dress to wear next Friday night.’
A few days later it was discovered that the grandfather’s toolkit was missing.
‘It must have been the father’s peon,’ he tried to deduce.
‘Or the maid,’ said the grand daughter.
xxx
The young man had been sent up to deposit a heavy package. Seeing no one around he thought that it might be the perfect opportunity to explore the room of the young daughter.
What he really wanted was to breathe her space. Touch her clothes.
All those rows of make-up. Surely she won’t miss a few of them.
She wouldn’t. But the man chose one that she would.
Fast now. Must leave.
He thought about giving some stuff to his newly wedded wife. The one who becomes the girl he stole from late at night. You know.
But he just kept the stuff with him in his pocket. He hadn’t dared to take the black brassier.
And he really didn’t take the tool-kit.
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