|Miss S. Bhattacharya dressed as a warrior or a queen, I guess.|
She likes to dress up, okay. It is an old photo.
A cotton wrap dress, flat sandals, a jhola bag, drop earrings and a messy bun, Miss Bhattacharya looks ready. She is beautiful. Oh, she doesn’t like the bun, okay. Open hair looks fine, more than fine I mean.
She cannot hide a smile, still she tries and smiles more. Just look at her, she is trying right now. Her crazy talkative mind is talking. No, not talking, but singing, yes, she is clicking her fingers… now she waves her hand rhythmically in air.
Miss Bhattacharya is walking, she is humming, the wind plays with her hair, and she lets it. She is a sweetheart! And she shouts at the auto rickshaw driver. What? Well, yeah, the driver nearly splashed her. It’s a crowded street for all.
But our Miss Bhattacharya lives in the present, she has crossed the road and is humming again. She loves to wear her smile, even in difficult situations, even at the crossroads. You know where she has reached now? At a crossroad, will she turn left or right, maybe she will go straight.
Miss Bhattacharya is a woman of decision. And so, oh, she is turning back, she is running now, running back. Time check! Yeah, she is late, oh no. She must have forgotten something, some silly little thing, no worries. We all forget.
“Oh, how can I forget switching off the stove, the iron, the fans and the lights… stupid, stupid… yikes, I think I forgot to lock the door, arrh”, said S. Bhattacharya.
Ha! Alright, this is all normal. These things happen with everyone. Only yesterday, I forgot something… can’t even remember what it was. Shut up! The point is, Miss Bhattacharya rules, she rules her simple, crazy, funny life. (I used crazy twice… why?)
Who am I? The narrator, of course. My distinct voice makes it so obvious. Oh, you can’t hear me, my bad.
Where did Miss Bhattacharya go? I am the narrator, you cannot leave me. Wait for me Miss Bhattacharya, you’re the protagonist!