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MilkSachets AparnaNarayanan
AparnaNarayanan
Shecradleditwithonehand, snippingabitofthetopcorneroff. Quicklyshetippeditintoavessel, pouringthemilkoutjustso.
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TheIndianmilksachetconfounds: itwobbleseverywhichway, spoutsmilknomatterhowyoutry tomakeacleanjobofopeningit.
Exceptinmymother'sdefthands therewasnotawasteddropanywhere whenshewasdone.Letmetellyou: thistakessomeartistry.
Notthatweknewitthen. Weonlysawthattheemptysachets, slicktothetouchwithfatsandoils, werenotdiscardedinthedustbin.
Instead,withinfinitecare,sherinsed eachcover-"cover"washerword- andslappeditonthekitchentiles, whereitbloomedandspreadlikemould.
Whatacollage! Asherhandiworkgrew, sodidourrage.Howuglyitwas, andhowuncouth.Hownottobeashamed ofhouseandmistress?Sowehadoursay.
Wepeeledthesachetsoffthewalls andheldthemattheveryedge, likecoinsdroppedintoabeggar'shand, totossthemonapublicrubbishheap.
Onlearningthis,mymotherblinked, thenhereyesturnedguiltilyaway. Plastic,shemuttered,toomuchofit, drowningtheearthandcloggingseas.
Shewasdrowningtoo.Andmother- don'tyousee?Sowerewe- shetriedtoassertcontrol.Wetoo, buryingherbychance,withourgrief.
