non|Senseless.

“You know they put mosquito chemicals in the water.”

“They do?”

Our feet were touching the slippery warm pebbles at the bottom of the shallow water feature in the school’s courtyard. Why? Just because. It was the opening gala of the festival. The event fluttered through the evening like the strange metallic music drifting through the campus green. We’re just too much of a plebeian to understand contemporary art. With pink flowers and matching black dresses, our MarComm contingent ushered guests and a sense of relief that it was about to end soon enough. It wasn’t of course. There were two weeks left and so much more words, emails, images, posters to be exchanged. We were happy enough to be in each other’s company, feet aching from standing on the tips of our toes and tummies rumbling with hunger. The only thing we ate were little open sandwiches. That is not food.

“What are you doing?”

Our large size 8 feet made wet yeti footprints. If I contracted tetanus, then hey so be it. I’d die young and happy. We plodded down barefeet along the corridors now emptying with artfully-styled guests and serene with strange installations. We’re leaving trails of water.

“Where are all the students?”

I spent too many hours inside that bunker over weekends, holidays, study week and exams. There was no other way. It wasn’t a choice. It was my baby and no one else can do it any better but me. Such is the arrogance of mothers.

“Good Job”

There comes a point when other people’s praises feel a lot more hollow than they intended. I’m sure they meant it. But somehow it barely makes a dent. I don’t really care that you didn’t come by. It would not make any difference to me. It was our baby and that alone is enough.

I miss that.