Relaxed

by Tejaswinee Roychowdhury

A faint mix of cologne and sandalwood agarbatti hangs in the air, where “relax” is a whisper behind my head.

The city jangles outside the plebeian studio. Relax. Oiled fingers sneak into my scalp. Relax. Their moves seem unpredictable, but I catch a rhythm. Relax. My eyelids flutter like paper blinds caught in a Nor’wester. Relax. Baby blue walls repainted in patches. Relax. A disarray of old photographs—gods and men hanging off bent-up nails. Relax. Chipped wooden chairs offering faux leather seats, beaten down by shifting buttocks. Relax. Barbering tools neatly lined up on a dirty blue laminate, struggling to remain glued to drawer tops. Relax. Plastic-cased mirrors with random spots and old stickers curling up at the corners. Relax. Tires screech, a truck blares out a sharp set of horns, and muffled men voice strong opinions. Relax. A thumb and an index finger create patterns on the skin over my sternocleidomastoids. Relax. Things begin to fade—the everyday Indian doesn’t care for the ambience, just the service. Relax.

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TEJASWINEE ROYCHOWDHURY likes to write, mostly fiction and poetry, has publications worldwide, and edits The Hooghly Review. She is pursuing a Ph.D. in Law from the University of Calcutta and can be found on X @TejaswineeRC and IG @tejaswineeroychowdhury.

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