Airport Lounge on the way to Dubai

The perfume would have reached me first

if it wasn’t for the realization that

a couple of noses had

come in through the door.

Noses raised above the pedestals clad

in the latest chiffons.

I knew that today the lounge wouldn’t

offer me the cocoon I knew.

There was a possibility that I would react

throw up inside and implode.

Yellow fields

covered by green daisies

spread out over an ample stomach

held up by promises of diet cokes

and sugar frees.

Brown paisleys on black,

“coming up in a big way in our country”.

Did she know that she is part of this?

Soon, the phone rings

out the latest ringtone

she hesitates, deliberately guffaws.

Satisfied

with her feigned embarrassment

and

with a careful tilt,

she picks up the phone.

“Jai Mata Di”

The other one watches, in silent

outrage, decides to take

matters into her own hand.

Phone into her small hand.

“Order ka kya hua, Salim bhai?”

Would “the maid is not coming today?” win

over “six blouses in pink, and half a dozen in green.”

Neither of which I have seen

Forced to hear the niceties, she doesn’t mean.

I take out my hands from my pockets

unzip the bag

and take out my laptop.

Need to write now.

She smiles at the young man

furiously typing in the last comment.

(How Indians have come up in the world)

“Oye Puttar, jai mata di”