Plopped atop the queen-sized bed, she waited for sleep to devour her, flinging her into the deep, dark dungeons of its mouth.
‘Lights off, curtains drawn, balcony door locked, room door locked, tucked inside the blanket,’ she counted on her fingertips. Her mind kept wandering through the day’s routine. The lockdown had made it especially difficult to focus on anything personal, whenever she felt the urge to immerse herself into art or its closer siblings; she was summoned for household chores.
Closing her eyes, she tried to move her mind towards calmer, more tranquil waters. She imagined the mighty sea facing a hill, a mass of stars spread out like a royal breakfast in the sky and then there was her, sitting atop the hill, at the very edge, dangling her feet, swinging them almost rhythmically. She fingered her hair, moving the thick black strands onto her right shoulder. A cool breeze, like a lover’s kiss caressed her left shoulder, for a fleeting moment.
The sea seemed to be at absolute ease, one salty wave swept by another, cushioning a deep sense of nostalgia. She breathed in deeply, taking in the fresh beach air. The sound of the waves crashing against the shore brought back a piece of her childhood in the beach city of Vizag. Visakhapatnam, a small town of sand castles, where everyone knew everyone’s business. Like budding flowers, every street carried scents of the past and present. The street of her sister’s school smelt like the familiarity of childhood, of giggles and childish quarrels, of Dadima’s custard, of a high-spirited mother and father withering away in the summer of the years to come.
School, an island in itself, was on another street. Its intermingled fragrances only told tales of fear, tears, long wooden scales, bare hands, innocent gossip and massive trauma. This fragrance would remain with her, merged inside her like an elegiac ballad.
Tap! Tap! Tap! The harsh footsteps alerted her instantly, interrupting her thoughts. A pool of sweat formed around her temples, sliding down the smooth curve of her cheekbone. Her ears perked up, attentive to the tiniest of sounds. Her dilated pupils hinted at the fear beneath. Her now open eyes, adjusting to the night light, sought after the shadows in the gap between the door and the floor. Her heart rate increased manifold in those few seconds.
The boisterous footsteps diminished, disappearing down the hall. A sigh escaped her. She knew this was the calm before the storm. Butterflies descended down her stomach. The footsteps came back, sending chills down her spine. This time over, the person was stomping angrily. Noise travelled from the hall towards the room.
Her parents were arguing again. Creases formed across her forehead. Ironing them out, her ears strained to comprehend the argument.
“Why don’t you understand? I am tired. The whole day I am in the kitchen, either scrubbing or cooking. There are heaps of rotis everyday…Just today I made 4 kilos of rotis. Nobody wants to help…”
“Calm down. I am helping! I am new to all this…look I am peeling garlic, okay...”
“The children don’t come to the kitchen. How many times do I have to scream in the day? Mood swings toh bhari bhari ne che… They don’t say their namaz, nobody wakes up early and you just sit right there, don’t utter a word. Kaaley, the chicken I made for the night went bad, because they didn’t put it in the fridge. If they can’t do this much, what else can we expect from them?”
“How many times have I told them? You jump in the middle to their rescue always… Wait here. I am going to call her.”
Harsh sounds of the sole pushing hard against the smooth tiles floated to her, at once interrupting her pretense of solitude. Almost nervously, she pushed a pitch dark strand behind her ear. Rap! Rap! Rap! Her father was on the other side of the door.
“Open the door!” Sly pinpricks invaded her skin, fear bloomed at her heart’s centre as a shrill noise made home inside her ears.
***
Her thoughts raced backwards, an episode etched in clarity appeared. “The students who haven’t done their homework well, stay back,” the math teacher walked in, bringing the class to a standstill. Beads of sweat formed around her forehead as the names of those students were read out loud.
“You! Stand up, this is what you do? Stay back. I am going to thrash you.” Her mind underwent a short circuit with the constant buzz of thoughts.
‘If she lays a hand on me today, I will beat her,’ The nine year old thought.'
***
“Open the door right at this moment.” With the present and past intermingled, one dancing alongside the other, she got up and walked towards the door.
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