Not You Please

Chapter 4

Bambi presses her wet black nose on my hand and sniffs. She seems tired and sleepy, but her tail is still wagging as if I am the greatest meal she has smelled today. It amazes me how every time she sees me, she is equally excited. Doesn’t she get bored of me? Or boredom is a concept known only to civilized species.

Her mate, Dumbo, comes running after her. He licks my shoes and then looks for skin inside my trouser to lick some more. I dump my school bag on the garage floor where the two hooligans have cornered me, and sit crosslegged to give them full access to all my body parts. I laugh as Dumbo jumps and attacks my ears.

In a few minutes, I’m surrounded by their puppies, who are alternatively jumping on my lap and then going to their mother, Bambi, to breastfeed. Bambi is lying on the floor, panting, happy to watch the scene, and feeding her kiddos.

When the three puppies are suckling on their mother, and Dumbo is lying on his paws near my feet pretending to be asleep, I take out my cellphone and take their picture. I stay there for half an hour before entering my house through the front door.

“Vikki, is that you?” Mom calls out from the kitchen.

Shit! I should have sneaked in earlier when she was down for her nap.

“Yo.” I raise my hand, drop my bag on the living room couch, and pick up some grapes from the dining table.

“Oh, are you hungry? Will you have lunch? I saved some for you.” She comes out of the kitchen and asks me.

“Mom, it’s four-thirty. I don’t want lunch. Besides you never make anything good for lunch.” What? It’s the truth!

“Okay, then tell me. I will make whatever you want. Do you want sandwiches?”

“No. Actually, I am not hungry anymore. Bye.” I go to my room and lock the door before she starts reciting the list of snacks to offer me.

I’m hungry but later I’m meeting guys at the CLAT coaching center. We’ll go to the chicken shawarma stall from there. It serves the best shawarma in Indore.

It’s quiet, as always. I’m glad that all four of my sisters (yes, I have four) have completed school and gone to college, or are married. Because I like the house dead.

Mr. Sethi is a rare finding in the "Sethi Mansion". My successful cardiologist father is out of Indore for most of the year. And when he is in, he only likes to speak about how I’ve ruined my life by not opting for Science in eleventh grade, and how I waste far too much time playing basketball and mooning over my dog family in the garage. Well, f**k him! I don’t care.