Under the Bed

“Oye Moti! You better hide!”

Moti cursed, for he was just starting to enjoy the IPL match. But he would prefer not to be thrashed like a cricket ball, thank you very much.

“Moti!” His daughter shrieked again. Out of everyone – amongst his family, friends and definitely not the strangers- only his daughter had the heart (and guts) to call him ‘Moti’, due to his overweight.

They had started knocking his door. His wife, as always, was the first line of defence. That doesn’t mean she would take it all. Gone are the days when she would be pleading for her man’s life in front of the lone sharks; claiming to clean shit-ridden toilets or anything for her husband. She had once left him, promising to leave him forever. The only way he was able to bring her was promising she would not have to do something dishonourable due to her husband.

Soon enough they will be in front of him, and god knows what would happen after that. Unless of course, he finds a way to squeeze his bloated cheeks under the tiny bed.