Story Three

                                                          Spaces

When Baba shouts, there is a wild thumping in my heart, like it wants to break free from my ribs. I feel like sitting down on the floor and crouching, bringing my knees close to my chest, and burying my head, deep inside the knees. I feel like hugging somebody tightly. Instead, I shout back, hurl words that hurt more than sticks and stones, till my voice becomes hoarse and my mind numb. Shouting down people to prove your point is a useful art that I have developed over the years living in this house. Even when baba is not really angry, I involuntarily raise my voice to protect my interests from being white washed in the flood of fury that keeps on coming and going.

After the tide recedes, we get back to normal. Baba is no drunkard. He is also not a good for nothing unemployed fellow, the kind of frustrated villain they like to justify in movies. There is no visible domestic abuse. Just a bad childhood and all of it vents on the people he loves the most- aai, dada and me- he’s darling daughter.

Today is another cue to sigh. Just in the morning we had one of the fiercest rows in months over dada’s wayward career- as Baba thinks it is. Going from dada’s behaviour to mine, he then to mom’s so-called indifference in raising her kids and how everything eventually is her fault.

In the end, Dada stormed into his room. Aai went back to the kitchen crying soundlessly as she has learned to, all these years so that the neighbours don't get to hear (as if they haven't got enough of mine and dads yelling!). Baba turned the volume of the TV loud, as he always does to distract himself and occupied the living room.

I suddenly recalled an assignment to finish, but I did not have the mood to do it now. I went to my bedroom, the only bedroom in the house which Aai and I shared at night. Dada was already there, propelled on the bed and busy with his phone. Like mom and me, he too had developed an art to tackle the problems. He possessed art to get over any damn fight in less time than it took to cook maggi noodles.

Oh, why did I have to wear this tight salwar kameez to college today? (I hadn't got the time to change it since I returned home from the early morning lectures). My entire body was sweating from the heat and the itching- because of the sequins on the dress I guess- was unbearable with each passing moment. All I wanted to do was rip the clothes from my body, fling them on the floor and throw myself on the bed. Finally however, I went to the bathroom to change.

It was evening time by now. My stomach was growling with hunger from not eating since 7 am. I decided to take a stroll before it becomes too late. As I descended from the stairs, I felt several people staring curiously at me. Or is it that I am imagining it, like I do after every tiff at home? I didn't find out. I went around the chawl, the place where the plants once grew so wild that they could hide me and my friends behind them in our childhood games. Now, the space is occupied by cars, of those living in the tall buildings beyond and nobody plays here anymore. In fact, I was warned by my brother to not loiter there in late hours. He claims to have seen ‘unpleasant scenes’ behind the car though he neither told me nor I asked him what exactly these 'unpleasant scenes' are. Basically I think he’s lying and only trying to act smart by being big brotherly and all.

I turned back and took the lanes. People are looking at me through sideway glances. I should not have ventured out in my pyjamas. But now I was too bored to turn back. I headed toward the park. The park always relaxes my mind. It’s completely vacant now, just the way I want it to be, to be able to feel the tranquillity of the falling night and silence slowly settling around me. But the darkness had really fallen by now (or is it because the lights were dim!) and I faltered. I turned once again and started walking down the main road. I had lost the track of time by now but somewhere at the back of my mind was the nagging feeling that they would be waiting for me back home.  I had left without informing anyone. Few more minutes and I would go back, I decided. The skywalk loomed large in the night, emptier than it is during daytime. Some view would one get from the top at this hour, of the traffic below and also the stars above, especially on this moonless night. Should I check? But I stopped after I climbed a few steps. The skywalk was almost desolate except a few boys, and who knows if they are using it to cross the road or doing something else out thee. As it is my feet were aching from walking so long. Time to go back!

People were openly staring at me now, though not necessarily in a bad way. It must be really late now. I wished I had carried my cell phone with me; I would at least be able to call up Aai. I hurried on.

As I walked, I remembered the time when I had been at marine drives with my friends, two years back. It was 2 am in the night but nobody bothered that we are only 3 girls on our own. It was an exhilarating feeling, watching the wave’s crash on the stones, drinking the sweetened tea, chatting loudly, or just lying down on our backs to watch the clear night sky. I smiled at the memory. But have to get out of it now. This place is no marine drives and I am all alone now.

Suddenly I heard a footfall behind me. Soft but steady, stopping when I stopped. I did not dare to turn back and see. I quickened my pace.