Sproing!
Sproing!!

His mind was sluggish at three in the morning and his eyes sleepy-laden. He slowly opened them and saw his navel peeping out of his unbuttoned night-suit shirt.

‘I’m lying down,’ he thought, ‘how can I see my own navel?’ He thought he was still dreaming and pulling himself out of his bed took slow heavy steps to the bathroom to splash some cold water on his eyes.

With his eyes focused on the wash basin tap he let his hands cup some water that he threw towards his eyes.

Splash!
Splash!!

The water seemed to hit the wall behind him! He turned his face back and actually saw the water dripping down the wall through his half-open eyes.

‘Something is wrong somewhere,’ his mind seemed to tell him as he turned back and looked at the mirror.

What he saw, shocked him… but made his eyes open wide without that customary splash! His eyes were at least a foot above his unshaven face poised on a spring made of his own ligaments.

What surprised him was that his eyes spoke and said, ‘I hate that smelly stubble. And here I stay until you get rid of it!’

 

 

The night my eyes hated my stubble!

The night my eyes hated my stubble!

 

 

This post is a part of the Protest Against Smelly Stubble Activity in association with BlogAdda.
Tagged friends: Sangita Passey

My series of 10 posts on smelly stubbles:

ONE
Poets write, stubbles don’t

Poets write, stubbles don’t

TWO
Autobiography of that unclean stubble

Autobiography of that unclean stubble

THREE
There’s more to stubble than you really know

There’s more to stubble than you really know

FOUR
The stubble debate

The stubble debate

FIVE
The tricky twins!

The tricky twins!

SIX
Men in pursuit

Men in pursuit

SEVEN
Part and parcel

Part and parcel

EIGHT
Twenty-four years later

Twenty-four years later

NINE
We-can-we-will
http://passey.info/2013/12/we-can-we-will/ 

TEN
This happened at three in the morning

This happened at three in the morning

 

 

 

 

 

Arvind Passey
05 December 2013