The Fish And The Twins

It is a bright day in November, and the clocks were striking six in the morning. Disha woke up early today with puffy eyes. She got up from the bed reluctantly and used her fingers to comb through her hair and made a messy bun out of it. She was searching for her phone everywhere except under the pillow she was sleeping on – pretending to sleep on. Two minutes later, she gave a quick read to the WhatsApp notifications and yawned a lazy yawn when her tired eyes excitingly spotted the new lipstick she bought yesterday, kept on the table next to the bed-sharing the tabletop surface area with one broken pair of glasses, one toothless clutches of hair and a notepad.

She had a lot of cooking scheduled for today. She quickly freshened up and wrapped herself with the woolen shawl kept on the chair in her room. Her eyes suddenly fell on the red mark below her shoulders and just above her left bosom. She hid it behind the fabrics of her shawl and decided to knead the dough first.

Four hours of incessant cooking and freaking, Disha was finally happy to see the five dishes chilling happily in the bowls on the dining table with steams coming out of those in a poetic rhythm. She was tired and more tired were her eyes which clearly needed some rest.

She was someone who enjoyed buying new beauty products every month which had the labels of ‘Organic’, ‘Herbal’ and ‘Natural’ until this month which brought a lot of credit card bill because she was on a two day trip to Mawphanlur last month and had an upcoming trip of Himachal Pradesh already scheduled. Judicial financial planning murdered her unnecessary shopping spree.

She came to her room for some dusting and cleaning because today was her turn to do the household chores and cooking. Songs fueled her mind and body to do household chores and this time, Tamil songs jukebox by Sid Sriram was kind enough to play the fuel part. She had difficulty in dusting the room because of the body ache. For the last two weeks, she has joined yoga classes in her neighborhood.

Slowly and gradually, the dusting part was done when she heard a loud thud – seemed more like someone banged on the door. Disha threw the dusting cloth on the floor amidst excitement and was about to turn to smile at Dhiti.

Dhiti came rushing in, hugged her girlfriend from behind and pushed Disha on to the bed. Disha gasped but grinned. She quickly peeled off her dress and planted kisses all over Dhiti’s face, pulling her closer to her bosom. Dhiti inhaled her, pressed her nose, sucked her fingers and drank the sweat from her upper lips. This elicited a gasp from Disha accompanied by her opening her legs a bit for Dhiti to slide one of her hands on the inner skin of her thighs. Dhiti was pushing her breasts against Disha’s breasts with such a force that Disha suddenly wanted to move out of this lust making instance. It slowly started making Disha uncomfortable. She was trying to stop Dhiti from being so harsh on her body.

Pushing Disha against the bed, Dhiti started the assault on her neck and used her tongue to cause discomfort to Disha. Disha found it difficult to push her girlfriend aside and struggled to stop Dhiti from planting unwanted kisses on her tender lips and breasts. Dhiti’s fingers were forcibly touching Disha’s thigh, more as an indication of dominance and authority than affection and lovemaking.

Disha wanted to free herself, realizing that Dhiti is intoxicated and under the spell of Hashish again and the rehabilitation has failed visibly. Dhiti got up and pulled Disha out of the bed – bedsheet half hung from the bed, pillows lying around the edge of the bed and the toothless clutcher swung to the other side of the table when Disha tried to resist Dhiti’s pull.

Disha was in jitters and shivers. Agitated, devastated and broken, Disha finally gathered some courage to push aside her girlfriend aside. Shocked, infuriated and rejected, Dhiti stormed out of the room.

Disha stood like a mannequin – still in shock yet panting like a human – nervous, confused and frustrated with the abusive relationship she was in.

She took the newspaper kept on the chair next to her, took it and tore it with the intention of releasing all her anger and channelizing the shock she was in – the partially torn paper on the floor read –

“….OROSCOPE… Worst-Matc…

“Gemini’s light-hearted, often thoughtless approach to the relationship will make for many hurt feelings on the part of Pisces while Pisces’s over-sensitivity will begin to severely aggravate freedom-loving, fickle Gemini sooner or later. There is also a very high risk of infidelity on both sides, as both Pisces and Gemini are prone to a roving eye if things aren’t going well enough in their relationship to suit them. Although there very likely is an element of attraction between the two of them, this is not an astrology love match built to stand the test of time.”