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Parul Mahajan



Parul Mahajan


Everyday Alarm

Everyday Alarm

2 mins 385 2 mins 385

So Parul wakes up to the sound of her everyday alarm

Frowning in her sleep, wishing somebody would shut it

And so the dark stout man wakes up to the sound of the early honk honk

Holding onto his age-old stick, he gets up from the footpath

And freshens up by brushing the dirt off of his shirt

Parul, leaves her king-sized bed untidy

She walks barefoot to the kitchen, takes out the blender

And makes her regular Nescafe with half spoon sugar

And so the housewife ties her worn-out saree by her waist

Folds up her bed, let the kids sleep, grabs the broom

And starts cleaning the dust out of her mud house

Parul presses a Sephora 'hot latte' on the soft skin of her lips

Stands up in her Gucci dress, checking every angle of her body, side to side

In front of the mirror, and pouts 'I'm not curvy, enough'

And so the little girl with her unwashed hair

Finds herself standing in front of the cotton candy she only gets once a year

But craves for more

So she asks her dad to buy one today,

And so her dad takes out some money he was going to commute with

'I' ll walk' he says to himself.

Parul says goodbye to her friends, takes her turn, and walks to her house

Her feet already hurting from the fifteen-minute walk

'Gosh I hate college' she says as her phone rings with a message

'House party tonight, 8 P. M.'

So she reaches back, takes a long refreshing bath

And dresses up in another Gucci

Only to leave, with her body mist on

And so the gol gappa man packs up his food in a big bundle, 

Counts the ten-rupee notes he earned today and smiles

'Twenty more than last time'

He keeps the big box on his head, holds it up

And walks home, thinking about his ill wife

And the medicine he's supposed to buy on the way

Parul gets drunk, dances to the beat, makes out with a guy

And stays over at her friend's, scrolling through the views on her stories,

Searching for her ex's name

With her lipstick all messed up, her dress all falling off, she sleeps off on the couch

And so the mullah with the white cap sits outside a mosque

Smokes a cheap cigarette, and holds onto his ragged quilt tight

Looking up at the sky, he closes his eyes, as the sun comes out, ripe and orange

At 6 A. M.

And Parul wakes up,

To her friends shouting at her everyday alarm.

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