The Bed

Exhausted, frustrated and aching, she walked away from the chattering in the kitchen and into her grandmother's bedroom. It was dimly lit by the gentle evening light, filtering in through the curtains. The air stood still, as though it hadn't been disturbed in years. This quaint room, its green walls looking pale in the fading light, looked sad and worn. Yet, she felt at home there, comfortable in the stillness and quiet. She shuffled over to the single bed in the far corner of the room. Her favourite bed, standing on four wooden legs with a thin foam mattress on top. She could feel her back sinking into the foam even as she approached it.

Gingerly, she sat down, pushing aside the freshly hung laundry before lying down across pillows and folded blankets. She lay flat on her back, looking up into the canopy of damp saris and dhotis. A dusty breeze blew in through the mosquito nets and hit the overhanging clothes, making the air around her cool and moist. She could smell detergent and dust.

The light began to die and the room looked darker and calmer. The breeze moved the saris, tickling her ankles and nose. She lay there in the dark, hidden completely in her damp tent, as the voices around her began to fade further and further into the distance. She closed her eyes nimbly into soft slumber, listening to the bats beginning to wake.