Malvika’s Ramblings

I am just a murgi.

I have a home. It’s just four walls and some furniture. I have a world.

You have a home. You have sneakers and a couch. You have a world.

The world is static. We are moving, living people – alive with enthusiasm, adventure, curiosity and peripatetic tendencies. Homes and houses, furniture and pads are just nodes to keep us in, to shelter us, a pillow to sleep, a meal to eat. No Check-in, no check-out. A seamless journey. New people. A couch.

I love this idea of couch-surfing.

My mom and I approached the Noida auto stand. I needed an auto to go to Delhi. A number of guys, some lounging in the backseat of the auto. A harsh sun. Quick customary bargaining. As we talk to an auto driver with his shirt open, hair puffed with natural grease, he scratches his groin. As we talk.

I’m running late. I hop into the auto. We are on our way.

Soon, he rips a tobacco sachet expertly, empties the contents into his mouth and lets the aluminium coloured plastic sachet flutter away from his fingers out of the auto on the road. The rest of the way, he spits on the road. A red-light is like a watering hole. At any moment you can see a few heads going down as men spit on roads.

As we go along, I see the auto driver has a long fingernail on his pinkie, a nail grown to half an inch. Scratcher. As I put on my dark sunglasses, I try to block out more than just the sun.

Saturn devouring his son

Artist: Goya