Laundry Day
Amara dragged the laundry bucket to her terrace, a warm sun greeted her. Amara disliked laundry day so much that 1000 years had passed. She picked up one skin that she’d worn long ago. One wring, the sound of horses running across the endless grass rang in her ears. A second wring and her husband fell victim to the foreigner’s bullet. Another wring, third and final, Amara helpless, watched her beloved die in her arms. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she hung it up to dry.
Phew. Amara took a deep breath to calm herself down. Of all the lives she’d lived, none of them matched the pain that laundry day offered. She had go through it all, at once.
The next skin was from when Amara was a fraud god-woman named Rekha. Rekha had managed to win an entire nation’s heart within 7 days. 7 years later had to run for her life when the media exposed her. She couldn’t help but cringe at the thought of it. Amara giggled when she remembered the time when teens, at her behest wore their clothes inside out. “True beauty lies within,” she chanted her catchphrase and let out a hearty laugh.
She picked the softest one of the lot and gave it a wring. Amara could smell her mother’s scented hair as she leaned to kiss Amara on her forehead. She heard her Nani, scolding her with joy for stealing yummy laddoos. Amara felt the warmth of her father’s palms as they walked from her school hand in hand. She wondered if it would still fit her and gave it a try.
It did.
Amara opened her eyes surrounded by a family who loved her only because she exists.
