Defamiliarisation—Pehlay Se Marasam Na Sahi, Phir bhi Kabhi Tou

You present your back to a hot jet of water; it sears your skin, but you need this. Your curls beg for conditioning but you’re not worried about you hair tonight. You wear your exfoliating gloves, and pour as much Dove as the stretch of your clothed palm permits. Apple-flavoured scent fills the glass cubicle. You make a show to yourself about this being just another shower, about doing customary justice to all parts of your body. You start at your feet, lather at your legs. Under the firm upward strokes of your hands, you imagine your blood travelling in the right direction, towards your heart.

You pause a moment before you swing your arms behind; your back arches, pulls away from your embrace.