Annapurna Sharma’s short story with a Franz Kafka-esque narrative is both powerful and mind-bending.
‘It’s a dream,’ said my husband.
I believed him. Yes, it must have been a dream. Must have been? It is a dream. I dream about it even now, till today, perhaps till tomorrow, perhaps till the end of my life, perhaps even in another life… It was becoming complex and intricate and… the list don’t seem to end.
My children giggled at my perplexity, and the contorted face that I make whenever I don’t understand.
‘It’s not that you don’t understand. Simply you don’t want to grasp the truth of the matter,’ said my husband again.
Am I a monkey?
He shrugged his shoulders as if he read my mind and the kids giggled again as if they saw some funny comedy serial on some robotic TV channel.
You shouldn’t say robotic, they often reprimanded me. It’s called growth. I huh-ed it away…