It’s been more than a day for me in Dehra Doon, and I came to a house that was a mess. No one had cleaned the rooms; there was dust everywhere. The boundary wall of my house had collapsed due to construction work. Someone had installed an AC on my back wall without my permission. I was furious and lashed out at Mrs. Servants for an hour. Then, I took a stick and broke the air conditioner’s fan in my anger. How could someone enter my house compound and garden and just install an AC? I gave an earful to all my servants; they knew the man of the house had finally returned from his travels, which had been a long one. Then I got to the task of organizing all the travel memorabilia. There were my books that had arrived from the publisher, and I got them placed on the right shelves.
It rained heavily yesterday, causing slush in my garden. It was quite depressing, and I had feared that would happen. Returning home was a scary feeling, but now I have managed to get things under control. I am happy that I finally took charge after such a long journey. But one thing is for sure; I will never leave the country for such a long duration again. Only a month or two at a stretch—I can’t trust Mrs. Servants to keep the house safe when I am away.
But Dehra Doon is my home after all; my servants are mine. I have no one else left now but them. If only Nino could enter my life now, I might find some relief. But that is another story. However, I was happily told by Nino that she had managed to collect two thousand dollars from her friend and would have five thousand dollars ready by the end of the week. If that is the case, then we could definitely meet in India sooner rather than later.
I still yearn for Nino, and her scent still lingers on my flesh. “You know, you can get tattoos on the beaches and mountain tops as we travel across the world. Tattoo making is good business in India,” I told her.
“I don’t want to make tattoos; I want to do modeling,” Nino told me. “For that, I will have to train you, shoot some stills, make a portfolio, and even learn how to audition in front of the camera,” I retorted.
“We will figure that out first when we get to India,” I explained to her. “I have a temperature; I am at the doctor’s. We will chat later,” Nino said abruptly as we ended our conversation.
It’s been raining quite a bit, and the weather feels humid and wet, but my spirits are high after the confrontation with my servants. Things have settled down, but I still dream of Nino as my thoughts go back to my days with her in Georgia.
