ERAYA (12 years-old ~)

Injuries that make life insufferable are never physical.

The wounds that live through the skin don’t kill its host, but the pest in the heart sheds its skin, reverse-rejuvenated.

Is it possible that being deaf can make me hear clearly compared to those whose physical vulnerabilities don’t stand as liabilities? Deaf, inaudible world, yet the sound of heart shattering is faultless to me, the sound of painful screams is clearer to me, the sound of cries is sharper to me.

I couldn’t speak; it leaves me in defeat when a war of comfort is held before me. Perhaps that is why I am so incapable right now, when I can hear the painful internal scream, cries and shattered heart of my father. The room that he decorated with balloons overnight, the cake he baked yesterday afternoon and the flower vases he tried to design and keep around my room because he knows I love lilies. Twelve and without a mother, leaves my father in a state of vulnerability and a dual role he attempts best to fulfil.

Role. A saga of unaccomplishment, because one cannot mask enough in this life to satisfy everyone's conjecture.

I have learned that, perhaps, a reason why I mask before my father leaves me bare in front of the remains. A mistake of my mother that I educated myself, her mask around the world, and her exposed self to my father has led him to hate her, enough that he would do everything to make this day special for me, except for the one thing I truly desire from him.  

My twelfth birthday and his efforts to fill vases of wishes I never hold against him. I woke up with surprise around me, my morning alone in a bed. Sometimes, Azariah slides herself inside, but remaining, I am entangled in cold sheets, a sea of loneliness and my maths books, because dwelling into thoughts of solution, whose problems aren’t life-threatening, or hurtful, is exactly what I would prefer.

He stood by the door, “My beautiful Eraya! Good Morning and Happy Birthday!” His words were buoyant, but only if his teary eyes could hide what they spoke. Some days I feel indignation against him, he knows my two senses are oblivious to the world, perhaps he can try to hide his emotions better, same way I have learnt. But my trait of indifference is not a gift from him but rather from my truly beautiful mother.

He stepped forward and hugged me, his giant, bulky body and the waft of his long hair taking me home and not the ones with walls, but an incomplete home. He rubbed the back of my head. I pulled apart, caught the apologetic glance in his eyes before he distorted them and started to remove something from the back of the pillow. I watch him with caution, as he removed a gift wrapped in a flowery pink gift wrapper.  

I signed, “I had told you not to get me presents!”

He signed back, “And I told you, it doesn’t count as a birthday if we don’t get gifts!” I chuckled,

I wish he hadn’t bought me a gift, the box covered in flowery paper feels like another rejection he is to cast my way when I speak of my true desired present.

Zehra Tai-ji, Daiwik Tau-ji and my cousins joined, entering from the door. Raagyata and Tai-ji, holding gifts in their hands as well, defeated but grateful, I shook my head, “Happy Birthday!” They all spoke, and I am sure they all screamed it out loud. I felt the sting of a high-pitched sound in the back of my ear. Tilting my head left, I tried to ignore.

I stood and touched Tau-ji and Tai-ji’s feet, took their blessing. “Come on, open the gift! Kaka hasn’t let me sleep because he wanted to wrap it right!” Azariah, only 6, spoke like she knew the world. I sat down on the chair of my study table, and they all stacked their gifts alongside. I thanked them with a sign and tore into my gift of rejection; everyone’s eyes were on my face, awaiting a response. But mine held the puncture of a wait.

 The box with a calculator, I took the top scrap off and reading the name, I froze. Texas Instruments TI-99 Titanium Graphing Calculator. It's over 130000 rupees. The eyes were awaiting a response; the only possible fall of the mask was the tears.

A shed, my heart cracked another host, I raised my eyes of sorrow and remorse that I ever mentioned him, that I wanted this expensive calculator. I stared into his eyes with tears.      

I could hear the subtraction of possibilities in minus to linger lower in the scale. Firstly, he spent the extra time on the decorations, cooking failed cakes and then this expensive gift because I had remotely mentioned it once.

The role of duality and the expense of raising me. We are doing moderately. Not poor, but not rich like Tau-ji and Tai-ji. And definitely not rich enough to receive a gift worth 1.3 lakhs. His effort will be disregarded now if I ask, “Why did you buy this? It's so expensive! We can’t afford it.” I signed him, and he caught both my hands and dropped them. “It’s a gift, you don’t question a gift! And I can afford a piece of moon if you desire, never concern yourself with that!” A tear slid down my face, and he wiped it with his knuckles.

“Open my! Open My!” I watched Aza jump, my head shifting left to find her demand for her gift to open. I laughed, opened the shiny sheet. I am sure it was guidance by Tai-ji that Aza and Raagi got me a board game where you pass a level by solving sums. “This is amazing! I love it! I can’t wait to play with it. Thank you, Aza!” I signed and extended both my arms for her to bite and run, hugging me. Over her shoulders, I thanked Raagyata. Her eyes were only looking at me with the most beautiful smile.

I returned to my next gift, opening the jewellery box, it was a golden chain with a pie as a locket. My eyes struck on it with an expanding, burdensome smile because it must have been expensive.

I looked at dad, hoping he would say this is too much for a little girl, but his confusion, he started to help me wear it.

Defeated, I smiled, looking at it and signed a thank you to Tai-ji and Tau-ji.

Tai-ji signed next, “Bath and come downstairs. I have made all your favourite meals!” I passed her another grateful smile and nodded. They started to scatter to leave.

There has never been a plate that she has fed her daughters by hand, and never me the same. After mom, Zehra Tai-ji, treated me no less than her own daughters. Tau-ji patted my head before departing, too.

My dad’s steps skidded away, and I caught his hand before he could depart.

Everyone stopped. I slowly raised my chin and met my father's eyes. I had been waiting a year to ask him this because I know my birthdays make him especially vulnerable and accepting when he feels bad. I can’t spend a year-long wait and not ask him, chances in the odds, and the bait is his hurt, but I gathered my bitter and cruel courage and begged with my eyes.

The psychotic, desperate and ungrateful jerk, “Can I visit mom in prison as my birthday gift rather?” I signed.

Twelve and deprived, my desperation to meet my mother stands against all my father’s love and efforts. Insolent, yes. But still desperate.

And once again, my deaf ears could hear, the sound of heart shattering is faultless to me, the sound of painful screams is clearer to me, the sound of cries is sharper to me.

ERAYA (14 years-old ~)

My first step inside the brothel, I remember puking in the staff washroom, where Samaira Rajput, the duchess who worked alongside with mom, helped me steady myself. She was a kind, soulful, dignified, elite woman. Her initial request to me was that I should not visit this place, that if I did, she would call my father and inform Dad that I sat at Mom’s brothel.

But my physical damage, and a request not as a 14-year-old girl but a child who has lost her mother and the only sanctuary that assures the aching heart of this poor girl, believing I am a fragment close to her? She presented a condition that the only possibility of my clock hours here is that I must stay in the office and never step out, never even if I hear the commotions, never even if I hear the dead silence.

I accepted it. Because hearing is not exactly my own trait.

But she still told Zehra Tai-ji, technically, she didn’t break her promise. And the words that couldn’t bind the duchess of Vardhgarh bound Zehra Tai-ji because maybe she had seen my anguish closer than anyone. And as long as the brothel was concerned, it was no longer the scary place with the bosses who ruled the towns and system that gave clients more power than those who were working there.

My mother’s tales are favourite songs of town’s men, the promise couldn’t restrain me within a chamber longer, and soon, my footsteps made towards the corners of the dance arena.

My mother came to this town, and her dream was to restart this brothel. I laughed when I first heard that, but it wasn’t a lie. And the passion she followed her dream with, she secured herself a seat directly in prison. I know dad worries, he thinks I might follow in her footsteps if I know her better, but he has to trust me, I desire to follow my dream like my mother, indeed, but my rationality is his, because I dream right things, I aspire to be a mathematician like him.

~~~~~~~

My flaws have always made people shift in their seats, and when the age of fourteen, I saw people making girlfriends and boyfriends. I could hardly make a friend. But here, in this brothel, the incompleteness of mine is rectified. My hollowness for a mother dwells here. And my desperation for a friend gave me my first friend.

One boy who understood my feelings, that sometimes having both parents doesn’t mean you have both parents.

That sometimes parents can be in the same sanctum with you, but never present in your life. Sometimes parents are a whiff of air, power to sway you, but never to steady.

Aaryaman has been my best friend since then.

Samaira Aunty has clutched his ear in a twist while she dragged him inside the working office, dressed in blue jeans and a black t-shirt, apologising to her. He hardly looked like a boy, his height the same as Samaira Aunty's, broader than Samaira Aunty's, and a toned face with flat cheeks. “Sorry! I will not come here again! I promise!” I read his lips.

She left him in the middle of the room, his orbs found my crossed position on the black leather couch, I was sitting with my maths sums and notebook. A habit and insane love for maths has brought the turmoil in my chest to hold the lesion of depressing sessions. I am proud that I am my father’s daughter, a mathematician; he passed his genius as genes.

“Rest your brazen and haughty self on a seat and await your discontinuation to life and hefty retribution,” She warned, “Your chote-hukum papa will pick you.” He made a confused face,

“Hein?”

She ignored and strode away, and I laughed towards his reaction, inaudibly, and those evaluations of brown spheres caught me at a distance. My confidence broke, and I shut my mouth and reverted my gaze to the book.

The boot shadowed under the table, and he sat on the plush chair adjacent.  My vision lingered on the numbers in the book; I continued integrating the value.

A few seconds later, I found him snapping his fingers together in front of my face. Embarassed, I met the globe, “I am talking to you!” He shrugged. He was talking to me. His vision that hasn’t degraded me yet will shift now, I apologised in sign. His reaction spoke to his understanding, and he apologised. Never demeaned.

Taking my notebook and pen, he wrote, “I am Aaryaman Ekvarthya Rajput,”

I gave a small bow; he was a prince of the Rajput. “I am Eraya Devakshya Agnihotri!” He read the name and smirked, “Beautiful name.” The door opened, and his uncle, Samaira aunty’s husband and the duke of Vardhgarh appeared. He watched me in astonishment before departing, his eyes and a curt shrug.

I find those eyes of shock, pity and disdain never surprising. I am mute and deaf, and I am bothersome. I am embarrassed to talk in public, and I am someone people stare at and wonder things like, It would have been better for her if she hadn’t been born, she wouldn’t need to suffer so much. The older woman of my grandmother's age, her friend, and their opinion lingered on the worry of who would marry her, as she is deaf and mute. And the woman in her middle age, watches me and contemplates concerns if the children I bear will inherit my damages.

But these are not my apprehension, never my anxiety. I never believed I was bothersome because if not for my birth, perhaps neither of my parents would have survived that day. I am not embarrassed in public because I am not a defect because of my physical differences. I am not to suffer because my damages make me no less competent to normalcy than any normal person. And birthing and marrying a man is not my dream.

ERAYA (22 years old ~)

I watched Tejveer tumble a man to the ground. I wanted to run towards him. I wanted to stop him. But Tejveer’s severe anger issues are something that nobody can survive. His maniac eyes lowered the entire Arena, seventeen, and a giant body scared men who hadn’t surely greyed their hair in the sun. His tall form and his booted steps, trembling every girl in the room, including his own sister. Me.

I know he will not hurt me. But when he closed his footsteps beside me, our shoulders almost touched. I started to hiccup. The blood that sprawled from his forehead to his cheeks and then lips, he suck it with his tongue before shaking his head and returning and stomping mercilessly on the man’s throat.

He stopped when the man’s eyes were left open but motionless, his neck and body felt like a different part than his face. He sat down beside the man, extended his arm towards me, demanding my reason for why this blood bath started. The iPad for printing the slip for proof of purchase and his ID details in case he is a criminal and hurt the worker here, which he refused.

I slowly covered the distance and handed him the iPad. He took the man’s photo and filled in the details before he clicked and looked at me, “Bring the proof of purchase.” I moved, trembling, but thankfully halfway, Mukti gave me the slip.  He took it, balled it and put it in the dead man’s mouth. And then punched him on his nose, splattering blood on his face.

Tejveer hasn’t been fine since we received him at home; he has shown signs of behavioural health issues. Dad acknowledged and sent him to the therapist that Tau-ji used to visit, but on his fifth session with her, at the age of twelve, he blinded her with the pen she used to take down notes with; his excuse was that her noting down things annoyed him.

He stood blood-covered, stepped towards me. “Laddo, if somebody troubles you next time, you must call me.” I read his mouth before he walked past me and outside the arena.

I stepped inside the living room with our family sitting on the couch watching television. I joined them while they watched the show of trivia, and jumped, shouting answers in the air. I couldn’t hear their responses, so I joined tai-ji instead in the kitchen and helped her make dinner.

I assorted the plates on the dining table before retracing my steps back to the kitchen. Everyone started to join the dinner table while Dad stood by the door. I looked at Tai-ji taking the curry towards the dining area, and almost everything was set now for dinner. I chose to take a leisurely stand next to Dad. I entangled my arm around him and rested my head on his bicep because, with my height, I couldn’t reach till his shoulder.

His other big manly palm came around my head, and he patted. A subtle hint that he is to speak something, I twisted my chin his way. Tejveer entered the room, giant, standing by the table and checking what was for dinner by lifting the lids of every pot. “I heard something happened in the brothel today; he did it,” Dad spoke, and I read the lips carefully before nodding.

He sighed, shaking his head. Pleased with the dinner options, Tejveer held Azariah, who was comparatively petite for almost the same age, and he caught her waist, scooting her to the chair beside. Her face suggested she desired to yell, but everyone fears Tejveer’s rage.

Dad kept his hand on my palm, and I watched his face slowly. “I allowed you to work as an accountant in a brothel because he promised me that he would protect you. But I fear sometimes that someday he might become someone you need protection from.” Dad’s discerning eyes couldn’t break from Tejveer.

I pulled Dad’s arm and smiled brightly before signing to him, “You know Tejveer will never hurt me.” Maybe.

Assurity, I am scattering like my heart’s broken pieces, but even I am unsure how much I trust them. “Laddo!” Dad jerked his shoulder, Tejveer calling me. “Come sit,” He patted on the chair beside him. My warm stretch of lips attached to worrisome eyes, I reached for the table and sat beside him.

He picked up the plate that he had already set and kept in front of me, and in the empty plate started to set again, giving it to sulking Azariah, “Stop making faces! The TV angle from here is better.” She took the place and waited for everyone to settle.

Tau-ji walked inside, hung up the call, and sat down in the chair. “Aza, why the face?” He queried; her reaction was normal. Being the observant man, he noticed and asked her. “He took my seat!” She bitterly complained, and Tej glowered, “And that she is scared of?” I saw Dad’s lips move in disappointment because, despite his desperate attempts, Aza never fears Dad. We all laughed. Aza showed her tongue to Dad, Raagyata slammed her arm to not disrespect Dad. Tai-ji sat sliding her chair, a romantic exchange of glances between her and Tau-ji.

I blinked at the empty chair next to Dad, a slow inhale. A wonder, if Mom were here, how she would have reacted to this evening?

The focus of the table shifted to Daiwik Tau-ji's face. I couldn’t catch what he had spoken. Dumbfounded, I returned to my food; there was minimal to no response around the table that I could understand.

“The retirement party is set for Tuesday,” Tau-ji kept the spoon in front of my plate, a small pretence of recall. I looked at his face as he spoke about the retirement party plan. “Everyone is coming!” He did not speak this part to me, but rather gazed everywhere. “There will be a dance stage?” I saw Raagyata ask; he shrugged, “The other soldiers are planning for me, I am not sure.” He clarified, “But most likely there will be, because what else will everyone do?” He completed.

“You will also join, Eraya?” I read his lips, eyes focusing on me. I returned to his gaze, “No, I won’t. I do not need to be there!” I instantly denied signing, keeping my spoon down.

The real reason is that I don’t want to embarrass myself or anyone who talks with me. The pity glances and murmurings. I want to spare myself that pain. “Why? Who will dance with me then? Kaka will surely not let any boys ask me!” Aza pouted grumpily. Dad took pride in it.

My hands endorsed a denial, “I don’t know how to dance.” How can I? I can’t even hear the tunes to respond to them.” Tej read it and jerked on my side. “What do you mean! You can dance!” He stood, took his phone out from his pocket, connected it to the Bluetooth speaker, and something played. The speaker’s light flickered, and he caught my palm, taking us around the chair. He stretched his arm in full length. And Azariah stood in excitement, too. Dad was in protection, Tau-ji and Tai-ji were smiling from the table. He pulled me suddenly, and I rolled around his arm, and reached his chest, and silent laughter broke out from me in shock. He was chuckling to himself, and this time when he pulled, he didn’t roll me, but rather I held his arm while with his legs moving left and right, he swirled me around in a tuneless dance move.

I laughed as he pushed me back again, his other hand calling Azariah. Dad took the lead next, and this time, when I rolled from Tej’s arm, I lay on Dad’s, who also held my hand on one side and my waist other side and left and right. We faltered. Tau-ji asks for Tai-ji’s hand, and never realising that the entire dinner table turned into a dance floor, Tej dances with Aza and Raagyata at the same time, then Raagyata goes to Tau-ji, I swiftly move to Tej again. There was a smack of smile on everyone’s face.

“Your inability shouldn’t stop you from doing anything, Laddo,” Tej words and I nodded.

I changed into fresh clothes and sat down at my study table, the mail popping up in my email.

I read the first line,

Dear Ms Agnihotri,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been selected to participate in the upcoming International Mathematics Competition, following your outstanding performance in the preliminary rounds.

As part of the next phase, we kindly request your presence in London to complete the final selection process and orientation. Further details regarding the schedule will be shared shortly.

Please confirm your availability at your earliest convenience so we may proceed with the necessary preparations.

Congratulations once again on this achievement. We look forward to welcoming you to London.

I jumped from my seat, standing unable to contain my excitement. I ran outside with my laptop, Dad’s open room, where he was perched by the window with a cigarette in his hand. He spotted me, consumed himself with fret, but when he spotted my smile. He walked forward, and I kept the laptop down and signed him. He looked at my hand gesture, and even his face broke into proud happiness.

I hugged him tightly, and he hugged me back. He dropped his hand, his eyes reading the laptop email behind me, “It's in London.” The moving flaps and I saw the regret in his eyes, a s, ow denial on the way, I am no astrologer, but yet I could predict his words. He picked up the laptop, another email from them popping about the scdhuele. He sat down, “It's this month itself! How—”

Overbearing expectations, perhaps I hold from my future, because often I disregard my vitality.

My dream crashed before my eyes when I watched his troubled face. “It's good. It's doable. I will lend money from Daiwik,” I sat down beside him at the edge of his bed. I don’t want him to ask for money.

Dad had his own house, but after mom, he hasn’t been back on his feet. He has a job. But a father’s thriving job sometimes cannot support the wings of a child meant to flail further from home. I am the fool; I should have seen dreams within my limitations.

“I don’t want to go, Dad. The fact that I was selected is enough for me.” My actions proclaimed to rest the burden on his chest. He watched my face. “You think I am incapable, don’t you, Eraya? A man in a sea of riches barely walking with crumbs?”

“Dad, you think I am that shallow? I know how much money you have to send Mom to protect her from prison thugs. How much money do you have to pay for interim relief for 12 families? And there is the expense of rehab! Mine and Tejveer’s cost of living, colleges and everything else. I don’t blame you. And I don’t think you are an incapable man. And in the sea of riches with dissolvable gold, you have a gold here that beats within you and would never melt.” My words cure him only if, after every statement, he wouldn’t watch me with eyes that suggested how beautiful it could have been if it came from a voice.

I wiped the tear that slipped, and I stood straight. “Plus, Daiwik Tau-ji is retiring; it's not appropriate for us to ask him for money.” I stood with a small smile, “Wait! What if we take money out from the ‘Mom Fund’?” His brow towered above his forehead, comically.

“You have been saving it for your masters!” I nodded, “But this seems like a valid choice to break into?”

“You think?” He questioned, he stared at the floor, averting his eyes. His lips moved, but I couldn't read. I caught his shoulder, and his head jerked in understanding, “I can fill in the gaps until you start your master's. I think we can do it!”

I jumped, “Does that mean that I can go!” I laughed. I sat down. “When do we have to go?”

“We?” I questioned,

He nodded, “I don’t think you should also join, one ticket will cost more than 2 Lakhs, I can handle this on my own. I will be fine, Dad.” I knew it was a losing bet. “We can handle the difference!” He started, and I shook my head. “Dad?” I signed, dropping my hand.

He firmly shook his head. And I knew this fight was lost.

The turning events, the repurposing the life in our family that has come over from decades. And that starts from the very start when my father’s elder brother died in a massacre at a factory. That story haunts my family. Because a single act and its effect spread across the house into a disruption that still breathes through. Sometimes from our parents, or sometimes inherited by the children themselves.

The destitution of this place was. The vital survival here was lost in hope.

My continued begging that dad, we can't leave Tejveer here unattended, he agreed that it was a valid point and that we already depend too much on the shoulder of Tau-ji to leave this trouble behind.

Tejveer’s reaction to my acceptance in the competition was blissful, and I would always remember his hug that which pulled me off the ground in happiness. But never is the appearance one shows on the four walls the true image of the falsehood they play outside. Falsehood is a wonderful question asked because we never know, our role in our home where we pretend in front of families that everything is fine, is the real lie? Or the lie outside we play that we are not deranged.

That’s a debate, we would never find an answer to perhaps, but Dad sat beside me, the phone by his ear, when he decided to speak with Aadheesh uncle, my mother’s oldest friend and an Agnivanshi. Surprisingly, my father chose to let me reside in their accommodation despite his bitter-sweet relations with them. Because we are in short supply of cash, it only serves the purpose that he trusts Agnivanshi as much that at least they will protect me from physical harm of strangers, getting my luggage and my cash stolen and that at least I will get a home-cooked meal instead of room service, which would be hard to afford for three times, two weeks straight.

His trust in Aadheesh uncle came after he discussed this with mom, visiting her this month, he discussed this with Tau-ji, given he has worked his entire life with them, recently retiring and a brief request to Babasaheb and Taara aunty that if I will be accommodated with care, given I am a special care.

His protectiveness is a blessing, but his overprotectiveness isn’t, and even sitting at the airport while our flight gates are yet to open, he called uncle Aadheesh to inform and ask one last time if he should come along, last-minute, because it must be too much for him.

I couldn’t hear his response, but my father’s face rested assured when he ended the call. He gripped my palm tightly before he faced me. “They won’t hurt you, right? They are not nice people, but I have seen them go to war for people who fall under their umbrella.” He asked me.

I looked at his giant fingers. I wish I could speak, so maybe I could use different tones to assure him that I am not as fragile as he makes me. But I am helpless. I am voiceless. I rested my head on his shoulder.

The flight was delayed for half an hour. Before departure, Dad informed me that Agnivanshi Sir would be sending his daughter to pick me up. It’s beautiful that they thought it would be better to send a girl instead of the elder driving themselves, because after such a long flight, I was tired.

I don’t know how Uncle Aadheesh’s daughter looks; the fact that he has a daughter was something I found out only a few years ago.

My eyes ran to the exit, where many people were standing with their cars parked, waiting for their guests. I can’t even identify her. I have met uncle Aadheesh a few times, Aamira aunty, and occasionally less times I have visited the Rajkot Haveli. I know Harshvardhan very well, and the other son.

A brief memory flashed before my eyes. I had seen him once, too. My eyes struck a bright red and long car park in front of the gate. The girl stepped out with red bottom heels and a red off shoulder cashmere top, and faded blue parallel jeans. Her glasses off, she looked like an Agnivanshi with the black curls she had, like her father, uncle Aadheesh.

She caught my eyes, briefly halting in them, circling back around the terminal before she signed, “Hello,” Bringing her fingers over to her head. I smiled brighter, in acceptance and said hi back. She reached me, “Hey! You are so gorgeous!” I hoped for a distance greeting, but she hugged me after speaking.

I shrugged, “Coming from you, is definitely a compliment!” Because I don’t think I have ever seen someone as gorgeous as her in my life. I have seen Tamanna, and man, that girl can lay men on her feet, and when she walks over them, they will still hail her. But this girl was no less. I had to stop myself from staring at her too hard.

She pouted, reading my sign language, Oops. I shouldn’t, I removed my phone and started to type, but she caught my fingers and hand. “I can sign too!” And holding my hand started dragging, “Even mom can, dad can, and even Idhanth! My entire family can sign. The boys learnt it because business requires them to be mindful of gestures and languages. I learned in school when I was volunteering in the curriculum, and my mom learnt because she wanted to sit with me when I did. Hers is a little broken, though, so you can not sign complicated words! But she is a fast learner!” We had already reached her car, and she was still holding my hand, opening the trunk.

I opted to help her, but she shoved my one hand away and never let the other hand. “Don’t worry,” She turned towards a young man walking by, she batted her eyelids and smiled flirtatiously, “Can you give me a hand?” The man instantly agreed, flexing his body when he put the bags in the trunk, but when he got closer to her face while receiving her overly sensitive thank you, given her reaction, she immediately pulled back and turned me around, opening the car door, sitting inside and then finally letting my hand.

She typed something in her phone before hitting the engine, and the whole way she kept talking. She was extremely chatty, and she didn’t let up, given that I was barely able to respond to her. I was dreading how this experience would be for me. But it seems like, not so dreadful after all, because she didn’t feel uncomfortable and ended up avoiding talking to me just because I couldn’t hear her and couldn't give her normal person responses.

When she parked the car outside an extended huge villa with three garages and two cars parked inside. Agnivanshi behaves like Agnivanshi was visible. I thought Uncle Aadheesh’s family was normal because of the way she talked to a stranger and her closeness to me. Any Agnivanshi has hardly spoken to me before, let alone holding my hand, and the idea of Tamanna flirting with a man can send Babasaheb into a killing spree; we all know it.

The beautiful pot in the entrance opens into the living room with the bar. I saw Uncle Aadheesh dressed in a three-piece suit, probably heading for work. He came out from the kitchen door on the same floor before he smiled brightly, “Eraya!” He signed, “How was the flight?” I responded with a courtesy head nod.

“Thank you for letting me stay here, Uncle Aadheesh. Mom felt you were a reliable choice, hence we had to burden you.” As my hand worked, Aamira aunty walked towards me and shoulder hugged me.

Shaking her head, “You are not a burden! We are glad to have you here with us!” She declared in poise, later asking Mannat to show me the room because it was a long flight and that I might be jetlagged, as it was an overnight flight, so I should rest.

Mannat couldn’t stop beaming, and neither could she stop talking when she led me upstairs; her conversation revolved around the kind of topic nobody could ever predict. I met her for the first time, and she was talking to me about a bonsai plant I had never seen or talked about to anybody else.

But she made at least the situation less awkward. The room was designed meticulously with every detailed item one can require to live comfortably, in the shade of a dusky wood and white furniture. Mannat sat on the bed, “I will wait for you, have a bath!” She had crossed her leg, and her eyes were focused on her phone.

I stepped up, catching my hint she faced me, “You don’t have to wait around for me, I understand you have better things to do.”

She laughed, “Are you kidding me? I finally have someone to hang out with, I can’t wait to do it.” I was hoping she would understand, too. And maybe she did because when I stepped outside the bedroom, she was gone, and my bag was in the room. I changed into my linen pants and a sleeveless khadi crop kurta in the shade of brown.

The comfortable outfit. I headed towards bed and just sat down, reading replies from Dad and Tejveer and the entire Agnihotri family separately in the chat box about my arrival, if everything is okay and if they need to come here. I shared my perfectly fine state, a picture from the window of the villa overlooking the empty, beautiful street and a message that they don’t need to worry.

I lay down on the bed, rereading the schedule of the competing, slowly drifting into the lights to darkness, losing one more sense of mine.

I woke up with a grumbling stomach. My head jerked to the nightstand, my phone wasn’t there I panicked looking under the blanket I had over me, I am sure I didn’t pull and under the pillow finally finding my phone. I breathe through.

I looked at the time, it was two-thirty. I couldn’t believe I slept through the entire day, evening and half the night. A strong pull in my stomach. I forced myself to my feet. It's just my first day, and I don’t want to overstep in somebody's sanctity, but I was also hungry.

Can I just take some fruit from the dining table?

I had seen when entering the room, I stepped outside the bedroom and down the stairs. My eyes lingered at the dining table where the fruits were no longer there. Halfway up the stairs, I decided to turn around, but another pull from my stomach.

I overly missed Tai-ji. I returned downstairs. If anything is lying around the kitchen, I will take it and leave. I told myself. But entering the gigantic kitchen with three side platforms and a kitchen island in the centre with the sink, multiple ovens and a chimney dangling, in the corner a four-seat dining table, extended door cabinets and a huge double-door fridge. I had to stand and admire its beauty for a moment.

The lights were dimmed in the house, yet the vision of the glorious kitchen was crystal. I leaned on the kitchen island and the floor, nothing. Everything was shining clean and probably kept in the refrigerator. I wanted to leave, but I felt I had come too far to leave. I opened the fridge door, but before pulling the handle, a notepad on the fridge door and words, “Eraya, there is lasagna in the refrigerator, third floor. Microwave it for two minutes.”

Utterly grateful for their thought, I opened the fridge and extracted the box with lasagna. I opened the lid, saw the big portion, and only took half of the slice, keeping the rest back inside. Microwaving for two minutes as instructed, I sat down at the dining table facing the wall and had the first bite. My craving is satisfied.

The temperature had strangely dropped compared to the morning. I took another bite, extremely hungry because my last meal was Zehra Tai-ji’s hand’s breakfast.

The foreign food doesn’t soothe my taste buds. My eyes wandered around in the kitchen, the extravagance they live with, my mother was always accommodated with the same kind of lifestyle growing up, but now. She needs to give free cigarettes to the woman in her cell to have more than half a meter of sleeping area. I wonder if Dad ate? If he got worried because I haven’t been online for such a long time. I opened my phone, resting to check the missed calls when suddenly an arm wrapped around both my sides, a panic clasped my chest, body was paralysed.  One hand rested on the table on my left, giant fingers, a watch around and a thick silver band ring, veins pulsating to be free from his olive skin.

This can’t be Aadheesh uncle, he would not do something like this. His other hand held the silverware from my plate, strong, unrecognisable hands picked up a bite, raised it over my head. I watched the spoon return to the plate, and he picked another bite. I screamed internally, anxiety striking my senses. My body is in fear of what might happen, yet motionless. I closed my eyes tightly shut, my body in jolt, awaiting the attack, yet it was defenceless.

I have been in a brothel, but life never came to a point where I was helpless under someone’s hold. Tejveer, Aaryaman were always there to protect me.

He continued with his third bite, but this time, instead of taking the spoon over my head, his cheek with his stubble brushed beside me, and he leaned forward to take a bite. I couldn’t recognise him from the proximity of his profile. He returned above. He had dropped the spoon down.

But nothing happened for a long time, the heavy presence over my shoulder, still shadowing. The ice in my bones melted. I slowly shifted myself, head tilting, rising deliberately, fear in every movement. I caught Idhanth, the man I had seen once earlier. The darkness of the kitchen and only the strip light under the cabinet cast his appearance. His lips dripped the cheese from the lasagna he had from my plate and spoon, down to my shoulder. My heartbeat started to rise, my mind blurring the vision before me. The throbs in my veins didn’t feel like anxiety anymore, and the way his eyes valued me. This closeness by a male species was something for the first time I am witnessing.

I held his glare hostage for a long time before I felt something sliding through my arm. My first jerk was to look what it was, but a part of me felt the elastic on my arm.

His finger rested on my forearm, a slow tug, and I felt the tug on my chest; it was the bra strap, it must have slipped, I never noticed. Embarrassment flooded my cheeks, alongside heavy warmth, while he pulled it more than necessary, my shoulder straightening, my eyes widening, and he pulled it to its maximum capacity. He held it in the air for long seconds. A tug, and he wrapped it around his finger before he casually kept it on my shoulder, sliding his long, rough finger under my sleeve to place it.

Returning from under my kurta, he slowly wiped the cheese off and  smirkingly spat, as I read his lips, “Delicious!”

Why is he hovering over me? Why holding me in his cage? Even last time, he had dragged me inside the kitchen, for which I am grateful. But his attention doesn’t seem pure to me. Definitely not when he just licked cheese from my shoulder and smirked deliciously. He wouldn’t do anything to you. He wouldn’t Eraya. He would not—

The light turned on in the kitchen, his head jerking left, Aamira aunty standing with a shawl around her arm, half eyes open. Idhanth pulled back, “I have told you many times, disconnect the door lock alarm from your phone! I don’t want you to wake up in the middle of the night when I come late from parties!”

I was still aghast by what happened, and he casually started talking to his mother, who didn’t want the topic of conversation here to be about the alarm, but rather what she walked into.

God, I did not think about that. She walked from the door; she must have thought we were kissing from that angle. I wanted to explain, but it might make things worse. She glanced my way before she started to take the lasagna out as well for him, probably, and made honey water.

Should I explain to her?

I stood with my plate, stepping towards the sink where she was, and washed my plate. Her eyes only focused on the water she was stirring before she turned to him and extended her arm. He took it, sitting down on the counter chair.

She started talking something, but from this angle, I couldn’t make out all the words, “We... not allowed... she is not...” She faced me. “She is too innocent for your time pass. Don’t drag her into your playful games!” She was scolding him. Oh, I am glad she didn’t misjudge me.

I excused myself and went back upstairs, shutting the door and applying multiple locks.

My face was down to the floor, but visible sight was rather on his face.

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