waiting at the Mall

It's been many days now, or perhaps hours, or months. Have years passed? It began the day I reached early and sat down at the steel bench next to the fountain ( or was it the escalator) to wait for my mother.

I had been in low spirits for many days, not stirring out of the house, spurning food, hearing an ever present buzz that my sons couldn't, wracked by fears I could not define, tears filling up my eyes at the slightest real or imagined slight. Those were terrible days, the worst days of my life, or so I thought. I know better now. 

Mama called to say I ought to make an effort to step out, maybe we could have an aloo tikki chaat at Haldiram's, she suggested. I was loath to move but it was equally difficult to say "No" to Mama so I reluctantly acquiesced. Since hair and make up and clothes aren't really something that interest me, I got ready in a matter of minutes and stepped into the car. How I wish now I had taken the trouble to at least wear something comfortable and to drape a shawl and not scrunch my hair too tight. Regrets, regrets! 

So there I was, sitting with shoulders slumped, holding my red Hidesign bag ( the one I have had for for more than 7 years now) , staring at the floor, wanting to shut out the loud, dissonant music but too listless to even plug my ears with my fingers. I could hear the strident voice of a young woman conducting an inane promotional program and it made me want to retch. Children wailed, cell phones rang ( why must people set the ringtone at LOUD, and why must they download as ringtones songs that do not bear even the remotest resemblance to music) . People called out to each other across large distances, as if it weren't a public space but their living room. The cacophony was unbearable. Would it help if I suddenly stood up and began screaming at the top of my voice? For one, I did not have the energy to sit up straight, far less scream, and then, I'd have to screech like a possessed banshee to be heard and so the thought fled. 

I watched people walking past me -----or to be precise, I watched their footwear, since a bowed head prevents one from looking at faces! I wondered how much longer Mama would take. Should I simply take the escalator and wait at Haldiram's instead? Or should I wait at Costa's, have a coffee, maybe that would clear my head. A myriad possibilities crossed my weary mind, but none could convince me to stir from the bench. Its not even a particularly comfortable bench. For one, there's no back support, and its placed so close to the escalator that shoppers lugging huge shopping bags invariably step on your toes if you aren't careful. 

What if this were Hell, I asked myself? What if I were to be consigned to sit here for the rest of eternity ? What if the Gods of the shopping malls get incensed at my blatant, unremitting ( even if voiceless) disapproval of the mall and visit their wrath upon me? Will it strike me like a bolt of lightning? Will I hear an aakashvani?  

I sat bemused by these random thoughts for a little while, then thought of calling up Mama to ask what was holding her up. I couldn't. I couldn't because I was completely immobilized, or to be more precise, I had metamorphed into a non corporeal entity! 

And thus I remain, slumped on the bench, all the particles in place but desperately needing a re arrangement into a solid form. I wonder if my family has notified me as a missing person. The police ----even if it were to put its best foot forward, which is unlikely ----will not be able to trace me. I alone can help myself . I think I need to do some hard penance, pledge to buy a Gucci every month, or pay a weekly visit to the Thai spa, or pick up solitaires at D'damas ----the possibilities are endless, but my reluctant spirit, for which shopping is anathema, refuses to be pinned down. Or shall I say, its making it difficult for me to set foot on the ground. I am stuck, waiting at the Mall!