There's a stain on Arun's T-shirt. It has a yellow hue.
"Ugh." Se says.
He goes into the kitchen and grabs a wadful of tissue paper, pours some water onto the stain and rubs it with the unnecessarily large amount of TP. The spot lightens.
He drops it into the washing machine and puts on a other T-shirt from his cupboard.
He goes back into the living room and plops on the sofa, pulls out his phone and starts scrolling through his feed. His stomach rumbles. It's time for lunch.
"I'm making some rice and dal." He calls out to his brother but he does not respond.
"Tch."
One glassful of dal and a glass and a half of rice is set to cook on the stove.
He stands by the stove, staring out the kitchen window. A beam of sunlight bathes him in golden light. A drop of sweat drips down his temple but he does not move away from the sunlight.
The cooker whistles for the third time and he releases the pressure and opens it up. The dal has a yellow hue. It smells good.
He sets the food on the dining table, then sets two plates and spoons.
"Are you coming?" He calls out to his brother. He does not respond, again.
"Tch."
He puts rice and dal onto his plate and begins eating. It tastes close to how his mother makes it. The second plate sits lonely at the other end of the table, waiting for food to be put into. Once he is done with his portion, he puts more onto the plate. A bit of dal drops on his T-shirt.
Done with the meal, he clears out the table and starts doing the dishes. There's a few days worth of rice and dal thrown into the waste bin. His face reddens at the sight of it. He drops the plate in the sink and storms into his brother's bedroom.
"Why haven't you been eating?" He asks.
He is met with silence.
"Keeping silent won't do us any good, you know."
Silence again.
"Tch."
He exits the room and resumes doing the dishes. It's not right to waste food, he thinks to himself. After cleaning the kitchen, he takes the days leftover food out onto the street and feeds two dogs. He squats next to them, patting their backs as he watches them eat.
He smiles to himself. He should not eat everyday, he thinks to himself. More food for them. He stays out for quite some time, petting the dogs and scratching their backs. His smile is warm and radiant. His heart beats energetically.
Inside the house, the air is cold. He goes back to the living room and sits on the sofa again.
"I don't know why he wouldn't talk to me." He sighs.
YOU ARE READING
My Mundane Existence
General FictionArun's struggles to have a relationship with his brother, which is more complicated than it appears to be.
