My Desert Queen From India

UntitledUnattributed [1]I was never the cool uncleToo old, too absent, too out of fashionI was in my thirtieswhen J was bornTwice the age of "cool"And seven years past "cool older guy"I'd said "these kids today" before she was even bornand by the time she had a favorite bandI didn't know what kind of music they playedor why anyone would like it(or me)I didn't live nearbydidn't "help raise her"wasn't "always there"not like some TV uncle wisecrackingtroublechiefingheart-to-heartingboyfriend-threateningpizza-treatingtelling-it-like-it-iset cetera.My brother, he was the troublemaker, he was the wisecrackerI was the one you would've figured as the family man4H, varsity basketball, Boy Scout (freshman year)the FATHERthe DADthe football and barbecuethe one on one and horse[2]the do your homework clean your roomet cetera.I puta piece of ginger[3]in herpussyand watched her burna large piece of root -- we joked about it:"root"peeled it with the fish-shaped vegetable peeler in the drawerthe one. She was above average height, very fair complexion, dark- eyed, straight sharp nose, straight haired, lovely large breasts bursting through the seams of her blue blouse and erect nipples showing through her sky blue chiffon saree. She wore a sparking diamond nose stud on her left nose, dangling ear rings and a necklace with a diamond pendant, gold bracelet and silver anklets. A rich woman from Rajasthan was what I could make from her looks.The argument didn’t get them anywhere as the porter walked away waving his hand and leaving the lady and the elderly couple fuming. I got down from the compartment and helped lug her suitcase and a couple of small bags on to the compartment. She was seething with anger and was taking out on the elderly couple. I realized that they were her parents and they had come to put her on the Madras Mail so that she could take a connecting train to Bangalore and join her husband. The guy who had booked the tickets told her that the ticket that was waitlisted.
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