Mango Chutney: An Anthology of Tasteful Short Fiction. Read Online Free PDF Page B

yes.
PARIDHI: Do you still draw inspiration from the people around you?
AARZOO: Of course, all the time.
PARIDHI: Who are the people around you? (Turns curiously towards
Aarzoo and rests her left leg on the bench.)
    AARZOO (Dismissively): Just regular people.
PARIDHI: Your parents?
AARZOO: Mom lives in Bangalore. Dad is still in rehab.
PARIDHI: Oh. Do you visit him?
AARZOO (Looking surprised): No.
PARIDHI: (Nodding): Of course not. So who do you...?
    AARZOO (Interrupting, almost with a maddening urgency): Did you
start reading books? Did I not say once that I’d be very surprised if you
did?
PARIDHI: (Looking startled, but distracted): Right, yes you had. I didn’t
start reading though.
    AARZOO (Saddened): Oh, no?
PARIDHI: No. I barely get the time.
AARZOO: I bet that’s not why.
PARIDHI: Okay, fine. (Rolling her eyes) I don’t like to read, not even
now.
     
AARZOO: You never try new things, that’s your problem.
PARIDHI (Masking her irritation with a knowing, nostalgic smile): Ah,
there’s the catchphrase. I had almost forgotten it!
     
AARZOO: That’s not my catchphrase. I am not a character on televi-
sion!
     
PARIDHI (Sulking a little): You would be a very interesting one,
though.
     
AARZOO (Laughing darkly): Haha, that’s funny. But I agree with you.
PARIDHI (Poking her in the right arm): Look at you, immodest little
creature!
     
AARZOO: Ouch! Keep your distance, woman! (Rubbing her arm) Now,
‘immodest little creature’ rings a bell, doesn’t it?
     
PARIDHI: Of course it does. It’s how you address your dark soul!
(Laughs wildly and covers her mouth with her colourful stole)
    AARZOO (Shaking her head firmly): There’s no such thing as the soul.
PARIDHI: So we’re just flesh and blood?
AARZOO (Pensively): Yes.
PARIDHI: You were never optimistic. You always believe that nothing
means anything.
     
AARZOO: So you believe that something means something?
PARIDHI: Sure! We all count for something , don’t we? You, with your little
stories about us, and us, the regular people in your stories – it all counts!
    AARZOO: Who’s keeping count?
PARIDHI: Don’t start the God debate with me, Aarzoo. Not today.
AARZOO: I’m just saying, they are just words.
PARIDHI: Your stories?
AARZOO: Them too.
PARIDHI: What else? What else is just words?
AARZOO: Everything, generally speaking.
PARIDHI: You can’t talk about everything and say you were speaking
generally.
    AARZOO (Looking puzzled): But that is the only time I can.
PARIDHI: Oh, you and your insufferable logic!
AARZOO: Don’t blame the logic.
PARIDHI: Alright, alright. Let’s not fight.
AARZOO: Let’s not.
PARIDHI: So, tell me, what adventures did you encounter on your jour-
ney to Ithaca?
    AARZOO: You...you remember the poem?
PARIDHI: Of course. I read it every now and then.
AARZOO: And?
PARIDHI: And what? Well, that’s how I remember it.
AARZOO: I didn’t give you that letter so that you could read it every now
and then.
    PARIDHI: Yes, you did. It says so in the letter.
AARZOO: I mean, you were supposed to act on it!
PARIDHI: Act on what!
AARZOO (Standing up): You were supposed to have adventures of your own!
    (Aarzoo’s breath comes in hot flashes, her lips quiver and her fingers
tremble in anxiety. Her moist eyes are narrowed at Paridhi, as though
accusing her.
    PARIDHI: Oh! You don’t have to scream at me. (Gestures at Aarzoo) Sit
down, will you? (Aarzoo sits down, begrudgingly). What makes you think
I haven’t had any adventures?
    AARZOO: Well, have you?
PARIDHI: Sure. Everyone has adventures.
AARZOO: Generally speaking?
PARIDHI: No, specifically. I’ve had a life.
AARZOO: An adventurous one?
PARIDHI (Waving her hand): Sure, sure. Adventure, drama, the works.
AARZOO: Then tell me all about it!
PARIDHI: Hey, I asked you first! You tell me!
    AARZOO: Oh, alright, fine! I swam in the Atlantic, tried crocodile meat,
wrote a terrible novel – you know that one, almost married an Australian,
got a tattoo on my shoulder, was