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A quick tale 110

A Russian author is read

This woman, who has small feet, lies on her bed reading Dostoevsky. She pauses to place the book face down on her stomach. Then she lifts her head and plumps her pillow with both hands. She drops her head and sinks instantly into the recent plumpness of the cushion. She picks up the book and as her eyes graze listlessly over the text of the 'The Idiot', her mind wanders.

Tomorrow she will tell her colleagues at the accounting firm where she works as an executive assistant, that she spent the night reading Dostoevsky. She will make sure that she says 'Dos-te-ove-ski'. The Russian way to pronounce the name. Then she will go on to tell them about the apocalyptic framework of the book, the characters and their conflicts penned across a moving landscape of pre-Soviet Russia. She will talk about it during the second half of the lunch break so that her colleagues give her more attention than the sandwich in front of them.

And later at coffee break, Brian, the handsome one, will mention how well-read she was. She reads some Russian author and all, he will say. And everyone around him will nod in assent. Some years later, when they will have moved on to different jobs, someone will say something about their favourite author and someone else will say, ah, I used to know this girl from my last job, she has even read Dostoevsky (pronouncing it 'some Russian author').

For the moment, the woman whose feet are small, shuts her eyes and sleeps a dreamless sleep.

Comments

so the woman whose feet are small assumes no-one else, atleast not Brian, reads the 'some Russian author' :O)
IdeaSmith said…
Funny things we do to make people remember us, don't we? Very nicely written.
monu said…
needed to read ideasmith's comments to get point..
:)

good one...
:)
Mythili said…
nicely pointed out the doings of humans craving for recognition all times.
As always,u have excelled in presenting it.
ahiri said…
nice Ammani .why did you want to know abt Children's garden school ?
Anonymous said…
Me!
?! said…
:)

Sigh, a dreamless sleep, a world of dreams.

Sometimes I am secretly ashamed of how much I need someone's acceptance. Or as the woman thought, to be remembered.
John D said…
awwwww..
Skeptic Admirer?! said…
Ammani,

Funny...funnier still that you chose "The Idiot" for your story....interesting on so many levels...

you know...you would be surprised at how many people have read "Crime and Punishment" (Ah! well...atleast heard of it)...I know of a friend who absolutely MUST have this book for bowel movement...and I will be danged if that person has read any other book from cover to cover. So reading Dostoevsky aint so high-brow afterall...eh?
Mahadevan said…
Many peole, who atleast have a pretence of familiarity with world classics, are more at ease with Crime and Punishment than Idiot. Dropping the name of Raskolnikov comes to the high brow crowd as naturally as adjusting the pallu or fallen hair.
LightRain said…
Er... Did you change the word 'pasta' to 'sandwich'? It's just that I remember reading the word pasta earlier... I could be wrong, though. But if not, any particular reason?
Rubic_Cube said…
Sometimes we want that feeling of being wanted so much that we create a fabric of pleasant visions and get entangled in them. And then as we drift through the virtual silk... we feel so much more better and light and "wanted", that the reality does seem to hurt more than it could actually. mmm... fodder for thought. as always, brilliant. i cannot even rank your quick tales now! mmmm....
Anonymous said…
Classical case of dependent self-esteem as opposed to independent self esteem

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Married for 31 years, 2 months and 17 days
Six cups coffee a day, brewed everyday of marriage
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Big basket of clothes ironed every Tuesday
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900 sq metre of floor space mopped, once a day
One caesarean endured
3 chicken poxes, 2 measles, 2 fractures, 8 diarrhoeas, depression, conjunctivitis every summer, 1 tonsilitis and countless common colds and flues
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6 hours slept every night
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Religious rituals everyone of them, carried out
Not one of them, believed in
Lived 52 years and some
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Overheard, “At least she had the satisfaction of having lived for her family”


http://jikku.blogspot.com/2005/02/quick-tale-3.html#c111042815438237631

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Found this in yesterday's paper. Again, I wish I'd written it.

-a

Now and Then

"Now that I'm fifty-seven",
My mother used to say,
"Why should I waste a minute?
Why should I waste a day

Doing the things I ought to
Simply because I should?
Now that I'm fifty-seven
I'm done with that for good."

But now and then I'd catch her
Trapped in some thankless chore
Just as she might have been at
Fifty-three or fifty-four

And I would say to her
(And I have to bite my tongue)
That if you mean to learn a skill
It's well worth starting young

And so, to make sure I'm in time
For fifty, I've begun
To do exactly as I please
Now that I'm thirty-one.

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