A DIFFERENT BEAT

When my mobile phone beeped I stretched my long fingers (Appu has never said, but my other friends have that they are artistic!)from under the cream quilt that my dad had bought from (I don’t know which part of the world…US? London? Brazil? Italy? oh not Italy, for he’s never been there) somewhere. My fingers chase the papers in aflutter from the loosely held clip file that I had placed carelessly on the nearby dressing table the previous night. Disappointed, my fingers return to the bed. A search here, a search there. Tisshshshshsh….or was it clingngngngg….or dishshshshsh..The sound is inconsequential in this context. The only thing that bothers me is I have to reach for the bed lamp (argh! That piercing feel you get with lights on when you have been sleeping like you don’t know for how long).With half opened right eyes and fully shut left eye I scan the granite floor. Delivery successful. Battery out! I take the three pieces from the floor and in an unscientific temper reorgan