A Sharp Exchange of Words: An Unveiling Dialogue

A sharp exchange of words that points to something greater.

"Mrs. Mehra!"

"Mrs. Poonam!"

"How nice to have seen you after decades, Mrs. Poonam! You're as infrequent a visitor as the blue moon is to the sky!"

"How nice to have you at my abode! I thought it was better to have you before I blocked you on WhatsApp on the occasion of the outrage, a personal one, mind you, of not having invited me to your new flat, even once!"

"I can't stop laughing looking at how much weight you've gained since the last time we met. But mustn't I pretend to laugh at the pleasure of meeting you in the flashy saree you got from the neighbourhood shopping complex yesterday?"

"Oh of course. Please do laugh a little more and louder. I shall feel less guilty of having overspent on this one. I also want to make the neighbours here a little jealous. You know they had a Mother's Day party yesterday and I wasn't invited!"

"You need to be a mother for that, Mrs. Poonam. I'm glad you're not one. Mine are little monsters who chew on my hair every evening I return from work. Can't they smell the newness of my hairdo? Don't they understand how guilty I feel when I spend on myself?"

"I deeply understand our troubles. But mine better. You're my messiah only for the next two never-ending hours. My messiah to escape the FOMO I'm having. You know it's been two days I haven't updated my WhatsApp status or even uploaded anything on Instagram. Yes, you'll leave my house in a gala mess and yes, it is my solemn duty as your host for today, to quietly do the dishes once you're gone. I must also ensure that I don't bang and crack the new chinaware I got in my frustration. But at least, God has been kind, I'll get to click a selfie with you. So, come in with your wretched heels, as old as you are."

"I'm delighted. Please don't forget to add AI-written captions to your update about the richness of our bond with thirty-four red hearts. That's my age, just add about six inexistent  hearts in your head, only to be forgotten afterward. That would be a favour."

"Of course. Once a friend, twice debt-ridden. You're taking too long to come in."

"I'm afraid I'll be ruining the look of your carpet. Rather, I'm more afraid I'll have to bear listening to the great legacy of your ancestry."

"Oh, that you'll have to, to your greatest pleasure. Do you think it's any more bearable to listen to the bag of complaints you carry about the world, your colleagues especially? The gossip you bring makes my coffee more bitter than ever. Of what use is gossip if it isn't spicy and juicy all the more?"

"That's plainly true."

"Now come in. You don't seem to know how tempted I am to tear apart the decorative wrapping off the gift you've brought for me. For me! Unless, of course, it's a cheap Gucci. I have enough of those bags already."

"Don't worry. It's grander. More exquisite. My stains of sweat, of my strain, decorate it too. Such that you'll remain indebted for quite long before you find yourself compelled to gift me something equally worthy. Or grander too."

"As they say, gifting is a transaction."

Gaurav Chandra Tuli