On the morning after
The morning after the muhurtham
I get up to find
The lights blazing
The chandeliers twinkling
The a/c cooling the empty hall
The gates are locked
And there is no ee-kaka
Nothing there except me
Do I have to hoist Appa
With his hurt back
In a fireman’s lift
And scale the gate
To get out?
Everyone was to go home
Everyone but the bride’s party
So I khatkhatoed on their door
The bride is of course not there
But mother, father, brother, patti
All wake up, bleary eyed
I am sorry to do this
But what choice do I have?
They organise coffee
And the opening of the gates
The few remaining guests trickle out
To wish us goodbye
Appa’s car is at our doorstep
Except that the door is
One storey high
We come down, slowly, slowly
And we leave
Appa in the centre seat
Where he can lie down
The rest of us
Here and there
A driver who is very good
And we reach home
In four hours
Non-stop
Point-to-point
I should have taken Appa to my home
So that he cannot indulge
In random hypochondria
And quote his mama
Who had a rate-card
For falls in different locations
Worst was the bathroom
“Bathroom-la vizhunda
Avlothaan:
You have one month left”
Well, at any rate
Appa didn’t fall
In a bathroom