Aloo Paratha for the Moon

The fuzzy sound of mothers and daughters weeping from Punjab nonchalantly drifted into the kitchen, where it was joined by the chiming of maroon bangles hitting into each other. The co-creator of this off-beat symphony was Sukhi, an annoyed looking young woman who was hastily wrapping aloo paratha in tinfoil.

With her face slightly scrunched up, it's easy to assume she was irritated over the increasing noise being emitted by the living room TV. Truthfully, she was just fighting an inner battle against the feelings of jealousy she felt towards the paratha she held in her hands. Rightfully so! As today it will be taking a very extraordinary journey to the moon.

Well... only if Sukhi and her secret lover make it to Bunny Park before sunset.

She jolted at the sound of her husband shouting from the living room, causing her to quickly sneak the hot silver package of paratha under the dishcloth that sat near the sink.

"What's taking so long? You having party? I'm late!" His voice sounded gruff, as if it was paining him to tear his face away from the TV as he spoke.

"Sorry... almost ready." Sukhi apologised, unsure if he even heard.

Suddenly feeling as if he was hovering over her and scrutinising every move, she tossed her knotted dupatta to one side and prepared his packed lunch.

A miniature steaming-brown waterfall of freshly made dal makhana fell from a ladle into a yellow-stained container. It joined two perfectly circular rotis, Sukhi had pre-prepared, inside a blue carrier bag.

She took it to the doorway, where her husband now was, struggling to put his shoes on as he squatted with one foot on the steps and attempted to use his finger as a shoehorn.

She glanced at the clock above the door.

20:32.

Only one hour left until sunset, she needed to hurry; Ata was waiting.

"Remember to lock the back door before you go sleep. Please. Bloody bastards already take bike...nothing else..." He tried to breath out as he stood up to Sukhi holding out his lunch. "Lock. Please."

He grabbed it and walked out the front door.

X

Sukhi waited for the headlights to peel out from the driveway, leaving her alone with the TV. She went to turn it off, stopping when she saw the not-unusual scene of a news anchor thoughtlessly shoving a microphone to the face of a distraught looking farmer.

"I don't know what to do anymore... oh Bagbhan! We mean nothing to them... I have family to feed. Two daughters to wed... I can't..."

Just before he held his face in his hands, for a fraction of a second, Sukhi glimpsed her father in the man's space. Nothing about it felt odd for her. In fact, Sukhi had sad and listened to her father try and hide these exact emotions from his voice when she called him.

She switched off the TV and stood in silence.

For the first time in a month, the familiar feeling of loneliness washed over her. After today, this will be her life again. A stranger walking around a house, constantly longing for home. Oh what she would do to smell the burning smell of fertiliser against the stove!

Sukhi thought back to the last conversation she had ever had with her father in person. They were sat on the roof of their home, overlooking his buzzing green corn fields. The glow of moonlight outlined his messily wrapped turban and straggly beard, as the hum and tickle of insects wrapped around them. She had just expressed how nervous she was about leaving for London tomorrow... all but a small tremble to be halted by the thumb of his words: "You know... I do all this... I work this land... for you... so you can aim for the stars."