Family in the time of COVID

I look at the clock. It is fifteen past six in the evening. I close my laptop, fold my spectacles and arrange my work papers in a neat pile. It has been a long day. The lines between my life and work have started to blur. I am thrown into work as soon as I get up. I miss my commute, don't you?
I go out of my room looking for my family. Slowly collecting them for dinner is something of a ritual now. I look forward to my dinner time, time with my family. My wife is in the gym. I peep in, she sees me in the mirror from the treadmill and signals with all her ten fingers. I smile, nod and blow her a kiss. These past few weeks, our marriage has been more honest, truthful and kinder.
I walk towards my son's room. I knock on his door. He is back from his university and is in the final few months of graduating with a Master's degree in science. No response. I peep into the room. Save for the light from his computer, it is all dark. I see him with a gaming console in his hand and headphones around. He is laughing and talking to the voice in the ether. I tap on his head. He turns around smiling. The smile dims a bit as soon as he sees me, he asks the other person to hold, mutes his mic and says he will be out in a few minutes. Almost at the end of a session he says. A couple of years of ago, he would not have responded at all, choosing to ignore me with a cold glance. Now it is not so bad.
I look for my younger one, my baby. She has always been close to my heart. She is still coming into her own, but her heart is strong. She is in the library. She is looking specifically for any first editions I may have. This is not a side of her that I know. I climb the ladder, grab my cherished copy of "Catcher in the Rye". She thanks me and lays down on the chair, arranges herself around my study table and put a pencil behind her ear. She hands me her phone and has me take a few pictures in various positions of reading. I am confused but oblige her. She looks through them, and picks one to go on Instagram. #mydadismyphotographer #firstedition #library #lightreading. I pull her towards the dining room. She is asking me if I will dance with her for a video...
We take whatever wins we can. Cherish what time we have. We are all in this together, and together we will be strong!

The Photographer

I sit with my laptop in front of me. The multiple coffee cups have left their rings to mark the passage of time. I zoom in to one section of the dark night sky with the milky way in full glory. I adjust the color of a few rocks in the corner. I also spot the flash of another camera in the same corner and Photoshop it out. Death Valley was a beauty and a beast on its own. I enjoyed the beauty and the serenity as much as I loved the experience of taking the pictures.
Photography is my life. My life! From the youngest age, I would take whole rolls of pictures and get them developed. It was an expensive pursuit growing up, putting myself through college learning from the masters. The models that I photographed lived on through my pictures - it was the chameleon that I admired, it was the balloons that I purposefully let float, it was the flowers that bloomed in full colour beautifying the wilderness of Utah. Life was photography and photography was life.
I sit back admiring the photo and I get a call on my phone. Work! For the hours that I spend taking in beauty and life, I grind on reality. "Here is the address.", he says, "Get there quick." I quickly grab my camera and labels and hit the road. The place is swarming. "It is pretty nasty in there", he says, "I don't know how you do it." I shrug and go into the house. A robbery gone wrong is never pretty, but I take those pictures for the police anyway. My art might help catch the beasts that did this. Life is beauty so is death. What they say..beauty in the eyes..

Wait for it!

I finish my set and go down to the bar. The bar tender knows me and signs for me to sit down. I grab my glass and turn to the side. She is sitting there with a martini glass, nibbling on the olive. I decide to try my luck and start a conversation. I clear my throat to grab her attention. She continues nibbling the olive. The only indication that she heard me is that her head is slightly turned to me...very slightly.
"Hi"
Finishes nibbling the olive, drains the last few drops of the drink, takes a deep breath and faces me with a bright smile, almost forced, "Hi."
"So can I get you another drink?"
"Sure!". She looks at the bartender and twirls her finger in a circle in the air. Not the most encouraging of signs, but I persevere.
"Did you see me perform?"
Sipping the drink, "Yup!".
"I perform here regularly every week. Did you like my set?"
"Yup! You are funny and..". I wait for her to complete. She just looks back at me and doesn't finish the sentence.
I try making some more small talk. She is really beautiful and I am pretty sure well on her way to getting sloshed.
She takes a deep breath and says, "Listen! I appreciate the effort. Honestly!". I am reminded of Eva Mendes in Hitch. She continues, "Honestly! It's been a long night and I have been on a dry spell for a long time. So why not?" I am taken aback at her forthrightness. I stammer, "Really?"
"Sure! Why not? You are funny and well..funny. Nothing stopping us."
"Are you sure?", I still ask disbelievingly.
"Yup! If it's good then we both walk away smiling. In the worst case, I become a joke at your next gig."
A few months later
"Let me tell you the worst I've done so far. I met this girl at a bar once...". I get pinched really hard. "Not the joke you want to say at your wedding rehearsal dinner..", she mutters with a twinkle.
I agree, not a joke!

With Coffee on Thanksgiving

Coffee is freedom! I grab my Red Velvet Latte, thank the barista and head out. She reaches for the phone. I glance at her, but make my way out of the shop. People are looking at me as I pass them, but the coffee is nice and warm and I am looking to enjoy it outside.

I go back to my spot, and sit facing the street. The cafe's outdoor umbrellas have heaters installed in them, so I am in a cocoon of warmth. People look at me as they pass by. Hurrying on with their lives, to be with the ones they love.

To have and to hold they say. Thanksgiving is the time to be grateful for the things in your life, they say. Big surprises come in small packages, they say. I put my purse on the table. It's heavy. I breathe in the smell of the coffee. Someone suggested this in office the other day and I have been meaning to try it. It truly smells divine. Coffee is freedom! If I could bottle a few scents forever, it would be rain and coffee. No fresh cut grass, the wet smell puts me off. 

I can hear sirens getting closer by the second. From the sounds, at least four of them! I won't give them trouble. I wait in my seat, aware of the fear and anxiety around me.

I am grateful that I finally broke my shackles, grateful that I finally stood up. Too long, the shadows of oppression bound me, too long have the tears stained my pillows. I kick his foot once more. I pour the coffee on him..blood and coffee mix. Coffee is freedom! I sit patiently absently kicking his foot, smiling...smelling the red velvet and my freedom. 

With Beer on the Fourth of July

I look at the bottle in my hand. I hate beer, the smell, the texture. I hate it. I am definitely a wine guy. But they don't have wine at Fourth of July barbecue do they? No sir. Not according to my father. Fourth of July means a baseball cap, shorts, sleeveless tee and armpit hair in the backyard, grilling chicken and corn sipping on beer from the cooler. "That is what people do, son. It's expected from us and we do that. We must always do what is expected of us, son. That's the easiest way to avoid conflict and live a happy life."
I look at him standing near my mother. She is holding his arm and talking very animatedly. He raises his bent head, looks at me and urges me with an imperceptible nod. He has always been able to sense my hesitancy and nudge me now and then. Of course, given that he is my best friend, we had that bond even before we had words to speak it out.
I head towards my father. He is talking to a neighbor about baseball. He follows it avidly because it is expected of him. It presents the perfect picture. He can talk politics as if he was an analyst, all this because he believed the easiest way to avoid conflict was to become homogeneous with the rest.
I bring him aside. "I have something to tell you." I hesitate. But damn it! It is Independence day. I am not like the rest and I am ok with it. I celebrate it and I am proud of it. Now, more than ever people need to own up to who they really are. If it is not who we are then we become who we are told to be.
I can see his expectant smile. From what I know of him it will be change in the next few minutes. "Dad! I want to tell you this face to face. I am gay. Happy Fourth of July!" He is dumbstruck and blinks his eyes rapidly. I want to give him a few moments. I turn and look back, he is smiling at me. So is my mother. I feel free.

With Champagne in Spring

It's a beautiful day. The sun is shining, there is music wafting from the speakers at the DJ's bar. Squeals of children splashing in the water and playing drifts through the air. There are dozens of lounge chairs around the pool. Away from the droplets that glitter in the sun spreading more light. These water droplets are like million glass beads wrested away from the chain of light.
The air is perfumed, with the roses. Everyone around the pool has glasses of drink. Colored drinks- pink, orange, green with little yellow, blue and white umbrellas on them. I have a glass of champagne. The flute is glistening with the condensation. The little bubbles dance inside them to the music of mirth.
Ladies around the pool in a riot of color, lazing on the chair, applying sunscreen and adjusting their shades. The men wrestling in the water, joking and swirling their whisky on rocks. It is a great scene. I fill my lungs with the air, my ears with the music and eyes with the beauty. It's a great life..
A lady catches my eye and slightly lifts her hand. I acknowledge with a light nod and walk towards her. She smiles at me when I hand her the glass. "Anything else, madam?", I ask. She shakes her head. I walk back inside. It's a great life..for them! Come the end of this month, I am outta here!

With Eggnog at Christmas

I stand with my mug of eggnog. I have been working at this company for three years. I am an island. I do not have to talk to anyone. My superiors are in China. I do not know anyone at the party. Normally, I would have declined the invite as I have done for the past three years to every single office party. Today, I changed my mind partly on a whim and partly because I did not feel like reheating leftovers from Sunday night's dinner.
Everyone seems to know everyone at the party. Everyone is having a great time. Mariah Carey is crooning in the background. Someone remembered to spray air freshener that smells like snow forests and pine. They begin playing White Elephant. I got coffee shop gift cards. I sit patiently and steal a thermos mug from someone in the HR department. This is the longest that I have spoken to anyone in this office. I am elated and nervous. Too much! I go out the doors that lead to the balcony. I look at empty walls of the adjacent building. The air is bracing and brisk and my breath forms white clouds. I dump the eggnog into the trash can nearby and head back in.
I stand for a second on the threshold before shutting the doors. Someone kisses me on the cheek. I am shocked and surprised and oh, angry! He smiles gently and points up. Mistletoe.
I smile back and take his extended hand.