The Body Myth

by Rheea Mukherjee

Dr. Mudra was trying hard to look serious. It was the way his mouth twitched.

hypochondriac?

but in our capacity as it stands,

begging him with my tone

I could feel her breath grazing the back of my shoulder.

hyperbole

complicit

Munchausen by the exotic thrill that comes with caring for such beautiful destruction.

It’s the blunt ability to share their most private vulnerabilities, while dutifully sticking to categories and the confines of defined symptoms. There is something deeply myopic about it too.

The first day I had met her, I was for all practical purposes a new person who had seen her being ill. A new person to perform for. Rahil was happy too, more so than his usual temperament, as I’ve come to know it. It was almost like he was feeding off her adrenaline rush too.

so I flip-flopped between aggressive,

that only served to confuse the poor man.

But I have a tendency to smile when a person outshines my preconceived notions of his stupidity.

muggy

graze

Nothing like a chaotic street filled with scooters, mopeds, cars, and auto-rickshaws to enhance his confidence.

dovetailed

weaved in and out of weekend crowds,

impending

Asha shook a stuffed frog at her

She fished out her phone.

to boot.

swarming

olfactory hallucinations

scrunching their faces,

purgatory.

The class literally leaned in together. I tilted my own head, fascinated.

snuck

scampering

These were the thick seconds of non-thought I knew were vital for my preservation.

and my eyes blinked rap-idly in surprise at my own words.

all the love we’d share in our twisted new family.

My gut zigzagged through my body,

And we drowned the rustling sheets in laughter.

“There are four paths to God: one is through meditation, then there is action, there is the path of knowledge, and finally the path of devotion.

traipsed

her chin nudged us.

with time stopped, and I counted the number of new lines that popped on his face in worry.

charmed the pants off my father.

rising sharp laugh

Sara had managed to rope Appa into a conversation

When I look back at my life, I’d say these are the only kind of relationships, or friendships, worth having. Ones that change who you fundamentally are, ones that push you to be a waltzing, wandering, mystical fool.”

insular,

self-effacing

Sara shook her head playfully but looked at me with intensity, like a teacher who inadvertently looks at her favorite student to shout out the answer.

whom Rahil had been enthralled with

grousing

prerogative.

But I notice my replies have slowly shrugged off their density.

We make love fiercely, slowly, cautiously, unabashedly.