Va’vij: A hand fan
I tell her to stop, I tell her, ‘I do not need it’.
She won’t listen, my nani.
She sits right near my head and the vavij in her hand goes round and round.
She says, ‘You must be feeling the heat!. Jammu my dear is just too hot.’
‘This heat, I love,’ I tell myself. ‘It’s true. It’s true.’
A late afternoon sweet delirium triggered by million buzzing bright white suns. Disturbed.
I tell her to stop, but the vavij in her hand still just goes round and round.
Jammu my dear is just too hot. And then the vavij goes around to fight a few house flies too.
