JK,
This is a rushed letter, probably smelling of a hurriedly made sandwich gone cold under the smell of egg whites. I am tired. Of my job, its dictates; this thinking of what-to-get-cooked and what-to-leave-out, having to look dazzling, daily, and scheming a proper savings too. I am tired of planning itineraries and being responsible of and in them. Groceries, lists, parking, insurances. Cocktail parties and the mock-tales within.
Even as I write, I am thinking of how this mail is a very bad deviation I have taken from my morning mail. The courage to open my personal tab as your omelette stiffens, devastates me. I am glad Chini is at the hostel and not returning for the Christmas holidays, which brings me to the reason of this letter, for you too, I believe, must have forgotten the needlessness of a letter. How good it felt. Like a big bowl of warm, clear soup. Neat, nutritious.
I have decided to be off from 24th until 1st. Do not ask me where and why. Do not even bother, that is. It is my holiday, as much yours, or Chini's. I love you too much to have a debate / discussion with you regarding this, and want you to seep in that only because I love you, have I gone ahead to do what I have been wishing for sometime now.
Please visit Chini, or your parents, or mine. Party, if you wish, remember that I won't be there to drive you back, or put you to bed, or make you the hangover drink the next morning. Please shop, as much as you care to, and remember I won't be there to open the packets and put the newbies into their cupboards and cases. Please do whatever you wish, without calling me to ask or consult or depend upon. I will not be available.
As for me, I will only tell you what I did with those seven days after I return. Should you have loved me even once in your life, do remember to keep the house spic and span like our home does, and if you keep the tea or coffee in the flask, without sugar please. That would really be enough. You can badmouth as much as you wish about me to all our relatives, or be wise not to. For the rest of the year, remember, you sleep with me.
JK, without your consent this would not have been possible. Till I wondered, why? Why the hell? I am informing you. And I have the right to live my holiday, my way. So, be on your own, and let me be. And even as I know this print out would smell of a cold sandwich of egg whites, I am excited. To be without your responsibility on my already burdened shoulders. May be I will never be able to do it again.
Cantonese noodles for dinner, JK! Cheer up. I love you.
A very tired,
Shradhha.
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