I realize that she is blessed with my mother’s overpowering genes. I, too, wonder if I inadvertently blabber.
“Sorry.” I roll my eyes at her as I walk back to my bed. I take a pillow between my crossed legs. I stare at Raag’s picture, nicely placed inside my book. By raising my book, I pretend to read.
“Are you okay?” Finally, Madam Important has time to notice my disoriented self.
“Do I look okay?” I snap.
“I’m asking because you’re reading a book on object-oriented programming. I don’t remember any of your exam schedules. I don’t think you are even the slightest interested in programming to read specifically from the middle of the book at this hour,” she says, showing her irritatingly smart self.
Somehow every time I see her, she looks thinner than last time and her black glasses appear bigger and thicker.
She is five feet one inch tall; she has dark brown boy-short pixie cut hair, thin eyebrows, and big brown eyes like buttons, sharp features, and pink lips. The lighter tone of her skin is pale now. Twelfth-grade science is growing on her.
I instantly snap the book closed and mutter angrily, “Can’t you play dumb sometimes? For the rest of us mere mortals?”
“I can. But now I am in a good mood to mess with you.”
“Bansi! Did you top the class in your tuition exam?”
“You should stop asking such silly questions, knowing your genius younger sister.” She stands there, smirking. “Oh…you were talking with Jiju!” she says, using the term to address a brother-in-law. She says this as she notices the picture sliding out of the book. Now she is head head-over-heels in teasing me, and at the moment nothing intrigues her more, it seems. Not even eleventh-grade science that apparently makes her time more important than mine.
“Jiju? Oh please. Shut up! Go and change your clothes. Isn’t it getting late for reading?” I ask.
She frowns and changes into her nightdress from her side of the cabinet, struts into the bathroom. “So, you didn’t like Jiju?” she shouts from inside.
“Bansi…don’t you have exams tomorrow?” I yell.
“I am bored of reading. I need some entertainment!” Bansari replies, shamelessly.
“Go watch CID—Criminal Investigation Department,” I say. She comes out, having changed into blue pajama bottoms and a T-shirt. I can barely see her in those skimpy clothes. I wonder if she eats at all.
“Sister, you are more entertaining,” Bansari says, laughing. I throw a pillow at her.
“You know you are barely visible. I don’t want to hurt you.”
She stands right in front of me in a boxing stance. “Let’s fight. I can take you down!” She jumps back and forth like a tiny boxer.
I scoff. “Please…have pity on yourself. I wouldn’t want to be the reason you couldn’t take your exams.”
In a series of movements, she pulls at my cheek, swiftly takes the photo, and slumps back on her bed. She doesn’t only weigh as much as a fairy but also acts as fast as one. I wonder if she could fly if she genuinely tried.
“Bansi…give it back to me! Stop calling him jiju.” I get up and charge toward her bed.
“Oho! He looks good…” she says, and her brows furrow. She ignores me standing right next to her bed and stares at the picture. “Handsome jiju!” she teases.
“Bansi!” I warn her, snapping my fingers at her. “One more time and be ready to bear the consequences.”
“Okay…here, you can take my jiju back.” She makes a face and drops the picture just as I am about to take it from her hand. She did it! Her actions break into a pillow fight.
After a thorough pillow fight, loads of laughter, and some sweet sister talk, we are finally ready for bed. Bansi decides to sleep so she can wake up at 5:00 in the morning to read. Poor thing.
It’s midnight, and I still can’t sleep. So, after slowly covering Bansi with her blanket, I grab my big purple blanket from the bed and step out onto the balcony. I guess it’s my turn to appear as the balcony ghost. I’m pretty sure the rest of the world around me has fallen asleep by now.
Outside, it is cold and quiet, apart from the muffled sporadic sound of the vehicles honking and speeding in the distance. The air has a pleasant scent of a distant smoldering fire.
Wrapped up in my blanket, sleepless and restless, I stare at the dark sky and the shining stars of saptarishi. They look the same as they always did years ago, and the same as yesterday. I wish I could say the same for myself.
Maybe something has changed in my stars. The stars and planets that defined my horoscope have shifted in gravity, and my tiny universe has turned upside down. Beaming at the saptarishi, I twirl in my small balcony as if someone has played a piece of romantic music that made me want to dance.
CHAPTER 3
Dawn
“Wake up, Maiyoo!” A voice, a little too crisp for cold mornings, calls my name. I try to open my eyes and fail. My purple duvet is keeping me warm as I sleep on my tiny bed, hugging my soft pillow. Not only do I fail to open my eyes but I also fail to move any part of my body. It is just my brain that is slowly waking up.
“Maiyoo!” My mother is standing right next to my ears, I think.
“Mummy, isn’t it Sunday? Let me sleep! What is it that cannot wait?” I say rather clumsily.
“It is Raag Kumar!”
Just as she says this, my eyes pop wide open. The room is dark, the night light still dimly lighting the room. There is no light coming from outside. What time is it? Raag?
I sit up, crossing my legs on the bed. “Is Raag on the call?” I frown, looking up at my mother as she stands there with the Nokia in one hand and a teacup in the other.
She extends both her hands in a gesture for me to take them. Swiftly, I take the phone from my mother, still in her shabby old nightgown, who seems to have revived her smile that was lost last night when I asked for more time.
There are many reasons kids love their parents. For me, my favorite tea readily available in the morning is one of them. She also brings the tea up in my room on special occasions like exams. I guess she’s giving equal importance to this call as my exams—the biggest of my life. I squint to look at the wall clock—5:30 AM. Oh, it is early! For Raag, it must be around dusk.
“Hi…” I say softly, taking the teacup from my smiling mother. I carefully place it next to me on the bed.
“Good morning.” Raag’s husky voice gives me goosebumps, and I shudder.
Or maybe because it’s cold!
“Good morning,” I say, delighted. “Um…good evening, must be evening there.”
“Is it too early in the morning for you?” he asks, and I smile secretly. Why?
“A little…” I arrange my unruly hair and notice my mother, still standing right there by the bed, her hands on her waist and grinning. My smile disappears instantly. That smile might dangerously mislead her into a la la land of my marriage with Raag.
“I am sorry, I should have waited for some more time,” he says politely.
Not at all! He was waiting to call me. Aww! That’s cute.
“No, you don’t have to be sorry. Give me a minute please.” I look at my mother and whisper, “Mummy, don’t you have to get ready for satsang?” She goes to religious gatherings at a Krishna temple over the weekends. It’s like Sunday morning church, except that the place has a slightly different God and it is called the temple, but at a high level most of the fundamentals of the preaching match, good versus evil and right versus wrong. Apparently, the temple is where my mother and Raag’s mother became good friends and came up with this excellent idea of getting myself and Raag together for holy matrimony. I guess spiritual places undoubtedly spur divine ideas.