‘Really? I used to think you two were close friends once,’ she remarked.

‘That was a long time ago, Aunty V,’ I said softly and walked away. I marvelled at how clueless our parents could be. And yet, they were in charge of our lives. How unfair was that?

10

Ma’s morning sickness woke me up once more. I washed up and went to her room with the weak tea and crackers that I had read would be good for her.

To my surprise, I saw that the door was ajar. Aunty V was inside with Ma.

As I went in, Papa left the room to make coffee for himself. I followed him to the kitchen and glared at him.

‘What?’ he asked almost belligerently.

I was feeling irritated, but didn’t know how to articulate why I was feeling that way. I thought of a lot of things I wanted to tell him, primarily having to do with getting her pregnant and realized that this wasn’t a conversation I could actually have with my father. Yuck, no.

‘You need to support her more!’ I said finally.

‘What do you mean?’ he asked, scratching his unshaven cheek.

‘You can’t just escape with that embarrassed look on your face every time she’s feeling sick,’ I said. And because I didn’t want to see the said embarrassed look, I turned around and walked away before he could respond.

In their room, Ma was sitting on the bed, looking a little less pale. She was nibbling on something delicately.

‘What’s that?’ I asked.

‘Dry mango pieces,’ Ma said. She seemed to be breathing out of her mouth, but was more or less in better condition.

‘I keep a stock of them for motion sickness, but it’s good for everything else too,’ Aunty V said.

‘Okay. Ma, I’m off to college,’ I said, turning around when Aunty V stopped me.

‘Since you didn’t have much last night, I packed some biryani for you to take to college for lunch today,’ she said.

‘Um, no, I don’t take food like that to college,’ I told her, my face reddening in panic.

‘How is it that I never see you eating proper food?’ she asked, her hands on her hips.

I glanced at Ma, who looked up and frowned at me. I’d promised my parents that I’d stick to a healthy diet and not starve myself again. I may have lied a little bit.

I shrugged and made my escape, saying that I was getting late for college. I heaved a sigh of relief that the biryani didn’t accompany me to torment me further.

We settled into a routine of sorts. Aunty V continued cooking up a storm. I tried my best to ignore it. It was not easy to open the fridge for salad ingredients and come face to face with a buttery looking caramel flan begging to be eaten.