Literal Blues

The alarm going off at five in the morning.

The whistle of a pressure cooker. 

Water steadily being filled in the buckets.

The early sun streaming in through the grilled window.

Cooking smells accompanied by the jingling of bangles.

These were the scenes that constituted a typical day in the life of Anita. She would then wake up her kids, pack their meals and rush them off to school. Her husband, a watchman, would soon be arriving after his morning shift. She had not failed to notice the smell of alcohol on him and planned to take it up someday with him , but today will not be that day. 

In a few hours, the house was silent except for the light snoring coming from her husband. Excitement shone off Anita's eyes as she packed her things to leave for her job as a maid. Except that today, she arrived at an nondescript building with walls plastered with somewhat familiar charts. 

Someone was already waiting for her there. She opened a blank notebook and with trembling hands wrote her name. And silently said goodbye to the blue ink smeared on her thumb. 

‘This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.’