The Far Field

by Madhuri Vijay

I myself had sampled bites of chicken and mutton, even beef, from friends’ lunch boxes, and, apart from an initial queasiness, I liked them all. The one time I made the mistake of telling my mother, she held out her arm and said, “Still hungry, little beast?”

How can I explain what it was to be around her at those times? It was like being sealed within an invisible, protective, soundproof chamber. I saw and heard and smelled nothing but her. She photographed me in the wreckage of our garden, out on the street, pretending to climb our neighbors’ gate while their ridiculous Pomeranian yipped itself into a frenzy. She photographed me in imaginary flight from the Pomeranian.

Soldiers were everywhere. I’ve never seen so many soldiers in my life. They said they were searching for militants, but to us it seemed like they were only searching for trouble.”

Never had I heard him speak in this way. All the lecturing, the hectoring, all the logic, was gone. He was nearly praying.