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Read More by Andaleeb Wajid for Duckbill

When She Went Away

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Andaleeb Wajid

MIRROR, MIRROR

1

I thought my seventeenth birthday was going to be like any other. Boy, was I wrong.

My phone started beeping with birthday notifications from the moment it struck midnight, but I slept through it all. I even allowed myself to skip yoga in the morning and stay in bed for ten minutes longer than I usually did.

I glanced at my phone and saw that I had missed calls from my best friends, Nisha and Anirudh. We had holidays for Dasara in college, and had decided to meet at a cafe for lunch.

My parents had been subdued since morning. We had planned to go out for dinner, just the three of us. I should have known something was up when Papa agreed to my choice of the restaurant. He hated The Green Revolution. He insisted that grass is for cows and pooh-poohed my food choices all the time. But even that didn’t tip me off.

During lunch with Nisha and Anirudh at the cafe, things were a bit weird and, at first, I couldn’t figure out why. I observed the two of them and realized that they were not behaving as usual.

Anirudh looked troubled and Nisha seemed miserable. I suddenly realized what had happened. There was something going on between the two of them—something to do with their feelings for each other. Either Anirudh had said something to Nisha, or the other way around and it had made things awkward between them.

I tried and tried to get it out of them but they wouldn’t tell me. They said that we’ll talk the next day, after my birthday. I even blurted out what I was starting to suspect and going by Anirudh’s blanched face, I knew I was on to something. Nisha just looked away, shaking her head.

The birthday just went downhill from there. I needed to speak to Nisha alone, but that made me feel guilty too.

Nisha and I had been friends since Class II and we had been inseparable. When Nisha opted for Kannada as her second language and I, Hindi, in Class V, I switched my second language and followed her right into her class, not worried about how I was going to study Kannada.

Then, Anirudh came along in Class VII. He was a typical bespectacled, shy boy who had a rather wicked sense of humour once you got to know him. He’d sprayed the back of our chemistry teacher’s saree with ink once and all three of us got detention for that. Probably because we were sitting the closest to him and he looked much too innocent to do something of the sort on his own.

When we walked into the detention room, he was busy trying to capture a lizard using a plastic bag wrapped around his fist. I’d normally run miles away from such a person, but we somehow became good friends and we continued to be, right through our tenth and now in pre-university college.

A part of me was worried about what was going to happen after this. Anirudh was going to sit for competitive entrance exams and study to be a doctor, Nisha wanted to study architecture and I . . . I was still undecided.

I didn’t really like the idea of them together. I’d be the third wheel, the ‘kabab mein haddi’ all the time. They’d want to meet up and spend time without me. And if we made plans to meet, they would either be waiting for me to come late or leave. Aaaargh.

Later that evening, as I dressed for dinner, I put the two of them firmly out of my mind and wore the new dress I’d bought for my birthday. I glanced at myself in the mirror quickly, bracing myself.

My arms were still chubby in spite of all the yoga, dieting and exercise. The churning in my stomach began as I wondered if I should wear some sort of a shrug to cover them up. Why did I think I could carry off a sleeveless dress? I’d need to diet for another ten years to have the kind of thin arms that I could show off.

I paced my room for a few minutes, itching to chew my fingernails. I could do it, I told myself sternly. I could step out of this room and face the world with my chubby arms.

Thick ankles.
Round shoulders.
Ms Piggy.
Fat Ananya.

No, I couldn’t.

I yanked the door of my wardrobe open and rummaged through my things. I found a white scarf, draped it around myself and walked out. The whispers in my head hadn’t died down but they were a little less sibilant. I tried to push them to a corner of my mind as I walked outside.

Ma gave me a look, but didn’t say anything. I should have realized then that something strange was going on.

It was only when I was halfway through my boring orange and spinach salad that I noticed that Papa fidgeting way too much. Ma kept looking at him uneasily. What was going on? I put my fork down, finally, and dabbed the corner of my lips with a napkin.

‘What’s the matter?’ I asked.

Ma and Papa started and looked at each other once again. I had a terrible sort of premonition. Something was seriously wrong. Was one of them sick or dying or . . .

Ma mumbled something and my eyes widened. I must have misheard . . .

‘What?’ I choked out.

I took a sip of my spinach smoothie, the gross taste not even registering on my tongue when Ma repeated her words, looking at Papa sheepishly.

‘I said I’m pregnant.’

The horrid smoothie went down the wrong pipe and I sputtered and gasped, my eyes watering. This can’t be happening. I can’t die on my birthday, right after listening to this awful news.

Papa got up and quickly delivered a few well-placed thumps on my back.

Ma looked at her untouched salad and ate a few bites. I realized she was avoiding my gaze. Papa also looked away, trying to pretend he was anywhere but here.

‘You’re pregnant,’ I repeated.

Ma looked up and nodded.

‘How on earth did that happen?’ I asked.

At this, Ma couldn’t control a smile. ‘Well, you know, the usual way,’ she said. Papa had the grace to turn red but he still couldn’t bring himself to look at me.

‘Yikes!’ I got up from my seat. I had to get out of here.

‘Where are you going?’ Papa asked, worried.

‘Restroom,’ I muttered.

I walked away, looking straight ahead and reached the restroom. Thankfully, there was no one else there and I washed my hands perfunctorily because I needed something to do as I processed this information.

How could my parents do this to me? On my birthday! I turned around and walked right back outside and marched up to them.

‘Why did you have to tell me today?’ I asked Ma.

‘I found out this morning, Ananya. I was shocked, yes, but I wanted to share this news with you . . .’ she said.

I sat down on the chair with a thump. This baby was already stealing my thunder.

‘We wanted to tell you later but your father felt we should tell you right away. Because you know, once I start getting morning sickness . . .’

‘Stop,’ I told her. I did not want to know more.

‘Listen, love, this doesn’t change a thing,’ Ma said.

I refused to answer her. How could Ma think that this wouldn’t change anything?

‘It will be great, Ananya. Think of the fun we’ll have!’ she said.

Fun! Fun? I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. If this had happened ten years ago, I would have been happy to have a sibling. Of course, I would have eventually realized what attention-grabbing monsters babies are. My classmate Anisha had a baby sister when she was in Class IX and even though she pretended to be thrilled about it, I knew she was not only embarrassed, she was also horrified because her parents had transferred all their attention to the little snit. Her mother had even missed her Class X graduation ceremony because her sister had a fever.

‘Can we leave?’ I asked them.

Ma and Papa looked at each other and Papa gestured for the bill.

Later that night, when I was almost asleep, a sudden thought woke me up.

How would I tell Nisha and Anirudh about this? What would they think? Would they laugh at me?

And the worst realization—the one that I’d been trying to avoid—hit me then.

My parents still had sex. Yikes.

2

I was at Nisha’s door the following morning, waiting for her to open it, when my phone rang.

‘Ma, I’m fine. Just spending the day at Nisha’s,’ I told her as soon as I answered the phone.

‘But . . .’ she sounded doubtful.

I exhaled loudly. ‘It’s a bit too much for me to take right away, okay? I’ll be back home this evening.’

‘Okay,’ she said and ended the call.

I looked at my phone for a few seconds and shook my head just as Nisha opened the door. She looked surprised to see me.

‘What’s up?’ she asked as she let me in. I waved to her mother who was reading something.

I liked Nisha’s room. It was simple, uncluttered and one could just sit down and talk. Both of us sat on the bed. I realized Nisha was being awkward.

‘Listen, about yesterday,’ she started, looking nervous.

‘I’m waiting.’ I wanted to hear her story before telling her about my sad life.

‘Yeah, so . . . the thing is . . .’ she looked away.

‘Yes?’ I prodded her.

‘I’ve never thought of him that way. I mean, okay, maybe once or twice, when other girls would comment about how cute he looked with his geeky glasses, it would surprise me. And then I’d look at him and actually see what they saw and I’d feel awful for thinking of him like that,’ she said in a rush.

‘Then, the day before yesterday, he asked to meet me for coffee. I thought you would also be joining us.’ She looked down.

Wow, this was getting into yuck territory but I kept nodding encouragingly.

‘So I was surprised when you weren’t there. He didn’t say anything even after we ordered our coffee. He was just looking at me and I was beginning to feel weird. Then, he held my hand and told me that he really likes me.’

‘Oh wow,’ I said, because I was not sure how to react and this seemed polite.

Nisha sighed. ‘Yeah, I was just shocked. I . . . I didn’t know what to say,’ she said.

‘And then?’ I prompted.

She looked at me and shook her head. ‘It’s just too confusing. We’ve grown up together and he’s always been there for us. He’s our best friend. I feel so awkward about all of this now. So, I just got up from there and came back home.’

‘What? But . . .’ I couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for him now. He must have been so confused.

‘I need time to think,’ she said. I rolled my eyes. ‘I told him that too. We haven’t spoken since then. Then we met yesterday for lunch with you.’

‘This is weird. But . . .’ I trailed off. I wanted both of them to be happy. But I also wanted things to be as they were. I didn’t want anything to change. That was not what was going to happen in my life.

‘He keeps messaging me. Telling me that he’s sorry,’ she said.

‘Why is he sorry? I want to whack him a bit for doing this. And both of you for keeping it from me,’ I said.

She winced. ‘I don’t know why he’s saying sorry. Probably because he went and changed things between us now,’ she said. ‘And I wanted to tell you but . . .’

I sighed. ‘So what are you going to do?’

She shrugged. ‘What do you think I should do?’

‘I can’t tell you that! It’s your life!’

She looked exasperated. ‘What if it wasn’t Anirudh? What if it was some other guy from college? Wouldn’t you tell me then?’

She was right. ‘Look, things have changed between the two of you, whether or not you decide to do anything about it. So why not give it a try?’

‘Really?’ she looked somewhat relieved.

‘Nisha, you don’t need my permission, okay?’ I joked.

‘No, not permission, but . . .’

‘Approval? Ugh, I don’t know what to make of it. As long as the two of you don’t do any smooching in front of me, I’ll be fine.’

‘Shut up!’ She hit me with her pillow.

‘What? I don’t think I can take it. And after I tell you what my parents told me last night, you’ll know why.’

Her brows furrowed. ‘Why? What happened?’

I let out a big sigh. ‘My mother is pregnant. She’s having a baby.’

Nisha squealed. Totally not what I expected.

‘Oh my god, how amazing!’ she said, clasping her hands together.

‘What? You’re serious?’

‘Of course! It’s so cool. There’s going to be a cute little baby to play with! I’m so excited for you!’ she jumped up and down on the bed in her excitement.

‘Aargh. Do you know how weird it would be for me to have a sibling now? When I’m seventeen? How could my parents do this to me?’ I fumed.

‘Err . . . it has nothing to do with you,’ she reminded me wryly.

I sighed. ‘Nisha, stop being an ass, please? My parents could have had a baby any time in all these years. But now? Ugh!’

‘What exactly is ugh?’ she asked.

I rolled my eyes. ‘It’s kinda gross, okay? They’re my parents. I can’t imagine them getting it on,’ I shuddered.

Nisha winced. ‘Then don’t imagine it. Just think of that little sweet-smelling powder puff you’re going to have at home soon!’

‘Sweet smelling? Please. I’m pretty sure they’re either demanding to be fed or they’re crapping all the time.’

‘When you have a little baby brother or sister, you’re going to be amazed,’ she said, looking sure of herself.

Her words were just making me angry. Why wasn’t she being more understanding? I thought that she of all people would get it.

‘I hate it when you start giving me a positive spin on everything,’ I said furiously. There were times when her constant positivity made me angry because I just wanted to let off some steam.

‘Yeah, but you love me anyway. Look, we’re almost grown-ups. We’ll be in college soon, we’ll get jobs and move out eventually. It will be nice for your parents to have someone at home too, right?’

I listened in silence.

‘They could have got a dog. That’s what everyone else does!’ I muttered after a while.

Nisha cocked her head and looked at me, also in silence, so I felt compelled to add more.

‘They’re not that old,’ I said, not particularly thrilled about the thought of my parents being lonely.

‘See? Exactly. That’s why they can have another baby now. It’s okay,’ she said.

I rubbed the back of my neck vigorously. What she said made sense even though I didn’t want it to.

3

I felt a little guilty about the way I had been treating Ma so I went looking for her. When I didn’t find her at home, I called her phone.

‘I’m back home. Where are you?’ I asked.

‘I left you messages. You didn’t see?’ Her voice was a little muffled. Where was she?

‘No. Why? Where are you?’

‘At the gynaecologist,’ she said. What? Already?

‘But you just found out yesterday!’

‘At my age, sweetie, you can’t be too careful,’ she said. ‘Okay, I have to go now.’ She hung up and I continued staring at my phone.

At her age?

Mom was just forty-three. But . . . having a baby at her age . . . I suddenly felt a spasm of fear. What if something went wrong and she died? All because of this stupid baby.

My throat closed with panic. I needed to talk to someone but didn’t want to call up Nisha. Obviously, I didn’t want to talk to Anirudh about it either. I called up Papa instead.

‘What is it?’ he asked, his voice coming muffled too.

‘Are you also at the gynaecologist’s?’ I asked, surprised.

‘Yes, of course,’ he said gruffly. ‘What is it, Ananya?’

‘I . . .’ I didn’t know how to tell him what I’d been thinking.

‘Nothing. I’ll see you at home,’ I said.

‘Okay,’ he said and he hung up too.

I sat on my bed, feeling out of sorts. I needed to do something. I needed to take my mind off this panic.

I rolled out my yoga mat and did a few stretches, and then sat down, trying to calm my mind. It wasn’t working. My mind was fixated on something else. Something with chocolate in it.

No, we’re not going there, I told my mind firmly.

Please?

One square of dark chocolate wouldn’t hurt anyone. I knew Ma kept a stash in the fridge but I had never ventured near it, as though afraid it would bite me. Saliva pooled under my tongue and I felt an unbearable urge to just taste one little piece.

No. I knew exactly how to change that. I got up from the yoga mat and, bracing myself, walked over to the mirror.

That one piece of chocolate is going to show on your tummy, I told myself, making myself study my reflection. On your thighs. Do you want that?

I pinched my stomach and winced at the pain. Despite all the crunches, this was never going to go away, was it?

Fat bitch. Ugly cow. You’ll always be like this.

The thought of chocolate was no longer appealing. I sat in the hall, waiting for my parents to return home and when I heard the sound of the car, I got up to meet them at the door. I looked for an indication on Ma’s face that everything was all right. But she looked fatigued and anxious.

‘What is it? Are you going to die?’ the words tripped out of my mouth before I realized how silly I sounded.

Ma sidestepped me and walked towards the living room slowly. Papa followed her, looking grim, holding on to a file.

I held his thick wrist and he stopped. ‘What is it? You guys are scaring me,’ I whispered to him.

He looked confused. ‘Why are you scared? Everything is fine,’ he said. I didn’t believe him because his face looked drawn and worried.

‘But?’

‘But your mom needs to be really careful. A lot of women give birth in their forties but it just gets trickier with age and the doctor has advised her to rest as much as possible,’ he said, walking towards the living room.

I followed them, my mind racing. I knew Nisha was right. I had to be supportive of my mother and not act like a child.

Ma was sitting on the sofa, looking into the distance as though lost in her own thoughts. Papa was also sitting silently, looking at his phone.

‘You guys . . . why the long faces?’ I asked them. Ma looked at me then.

‘You don’t know this, but . . .’ she looked at Papa as though for support and he nodded, putting his phone aside.

‘I got pregnant when you were twelve,’ she said.

‘What?’ I sat down, my legs suddenly feeling shaky.

She nodded. ‘I had a miscarriage when I was two months along,’ she sighed. The words burned into my brain. This was five years ago . . . when my own life changed. How had I missed all this? Why hadn’t they said anything to me?

She sighed. ‘Because of that and my age, the doctor says I need to be really careful with this pregnancy,’ she said, her fingers worrying the edge of her pallu.

I got up from the sofa, only to sit down next to her, wishing I could rewind to the time when I was foolishly young and clueless about everything.

‘Okay. I’m here for you,’ I told her, holding her hand.

‘Thanks, love. But we’re going to need a lot more help,’ she said. I frowned.

‘What do you mean?’

‘I spoke to V on the way back from the gynaecologist. She’s agreed to come and stay with us for a few months,’ she said.

‘Aunty V? But why?’ I asked, my heart sinking as it always did whenever Ma mentioned her name.

‘Because everyone else is too busy and I need help and support,’ Ma said. I knew that it was not that Aunty V was not busy—it was just that she could work from anywhere as all the multiple freelance jobs she did—editing, writing—were all from home, which was why she would have no problem staying with us.

I wanted to get up from there and walk away. But I needed to support my parents, no matter how difficult it got for me.

But . . . Aunty V? I have nothing against Aunty V, really. It was her son who was the problem. But then, that was years and years ago and Ma had only mentioned Aunty V. There was no talk of Raghu yet.

I was not going to think of Raghu, with his crazy hair and his shining eyes and that chipped front tooth that he flashed whenever he smiled. I wasn’t going to think of that strange hot and cold sensation that passed through my body when his name was mentioned. I was not going to think of him.

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