Ananya

I have travelled the world. My lifestyle was an envious one—new hotel rooms with windows revealing the vast ocean, orange sunsets, or snowy mountain peaks. I adored my life and the person I shared it with. My existence used to be solitary—I was trapped in a dark, suffocating box. While drowning in claustrophobia, hope gushed into my life like a waterfall one day. That hope was Ananya. I am not sure how we came to meet, but it was like destiny.

I first saw Ananya when she pulled me from the pits of darkness. When I first saw her, dimples were pressed into her cheeks. I felt a breath of fresh air and a burgeoning warmth that escalated to a fiery heat when she first plugged me into the wall.

I think I saved her.

That halo of chocolate frizz around her head did absolutely no good for her delicate features. She always giggled after I ran my arms through her hair as swiftly as soft butter ran over bread. It was like I wove silk with her frayed strands of hair, and with that transformation, Ananya’s soul became anew. I was never one to brag, but I knew I changed Ani’s life in many ways. I can say that with the utmost audacity because Ani has never left me. She actually never once put me away in that hideous box. I am always within her eyeline—on pretty pink vanities, wooden desks, or metallic side tables—never stowed away into darkness like her feeble hairbrush.

I loathed where I was now; the air was stale, and while my rosegold skin remained pristine, I couldn’t help but feel beads of sweat trickle down my slender arms when Ani came in looking hot red from the heat. I had never been in the same place once with Ani, but every destination was more pleasant than the next. I recalled Ani speaking on the phone one day in a quaint little room with the scent of sea salt. I could decipher smells from the chord sticking out of my back. My chord was not a beguiling feature, but the things that maintain life are rarely pretty.

The front door of the house cracked open with the distinct cacophonous sound. I could hear everything from behind the shut bedroom door.

It was Ani, Tina, and Gauri fighting in their ear-piercing way. My moment of quiet and reflection was over. Tina was Ani’s Mummy. If I were asked, nothing about Tina seemed motherly. Tina was a plump woman with a saggy chin and teeth that had never seen the dentist. While Ani was away, Tina came into the room often—I despised her peppery, fried hair. Sometimes, but not so often that she became suspicious, I burned her neck. Gauri, Ani’s Nani, sometimes came to change the sheets from one hideous print to another. Her hair was like strands of seaweed on the vast sand. There was hardly any hair left on her head, and I wondered why she wouldn’t just buy a wig.

“Why do you keep pressuring me!” Ani said. Although I was in the bedroom, the thin walls made it easy to tune into the arguments if I was in the mood, which I wasn’t always.

“Because you have wasted two years, and you need to start thinking about your future!” Tina bellowed.

“Just give me some time, I’ll figure it out.”

“We have given you a lot of time, beta. Why don’t you just meet him tomorrow?” Gauri said in her honey-like voice.

“I don’t want to meet him!” Ani spat.

“Don’t yell at your Nani,” Tina spoke through a clenched jaw. The argument went on and on, and I would have rolled my eyes if I could. The premise of each fight was the same; the redundancy of it all made me yawn. Tina and Guari were fixated on Ani’s every failure. Why is Ani single? Why can’t she hold down a job? Why is she travelling and wasting her money? Her father passed away two years ago; why is she still grieving? The last one always stung whenever it slipped from Tina’s lips.

It was clear Tina never had any affection for her husband, but she seemed to forget the love Ani had for her Papa. I saw Ani, from time to time, messaging him on her phone. Her lips trembled as she sent accounts of her day, knowing that there was no one left on the other end to reply. Somewhere between the flicking of her thumbs and the click of the keyboard, I saw Ani’s hazel eyes sparkle. I wondered if she hoped a message would bloom on her screen like a flower in spring. I hoped a reply would appear on her screen too. Ever since I have known Ani, it has just been her and me. While for someone like me, the company of a sole person is enough to quench my thirst for companionship, Ani needed friends. Perhaps a dalliance. I rooted for her, but she always spent each night alone in bed, watching television shows about friends and romances with a lustful look. I knew what she subconsciously desired—it was too bad Ani wouldn’t listen to me. I could give such good advice. I’m pretty great that way.

The argument outside the bedroom ceased, and with it came a much-needed tranquility. The door swung open with a clamour, and Ani trudged inside with tears streaking every possible inch of her smooth caramel skin. Black pigment ran down her cheeks from the thick kajal she applied on her waterline every morning. Curled up in a fetal position, Ani continued to whimper on her mattress, and I ached to reach out and comfort her, to stroke her silky hair—which was only silky thanks to me—and tell her to relax. Ani was doing the best she could. I knew it because, in spite of her cartoonish mother and grandmother, Ani held herself with the grace of a swan. I couldn’t imagine what it was like to lose a parent. Maybe if Dyson died one day, I would know the feeling.

***

The next day, Ani rose from bed with swollen eyes and hair damp from salty tears. The wispy parts of her hair were curling inwards. She noticed her dishevelled appearance in the mirror and immediately plugged me into the power socket. It had been a few days since heat ran through my extremities. The tingling sensation was pleasant. After my arms ran through her strands of hair a few times, I fell into the regular rhythm. As Ani looked deep into her own puffy, red eyes, I consoled her. Do not listen to Mummy and Nani. You are doing great; travelling is an experience with its own merit. I told her you are beautiful and never to demean your own appearance; yes, I told her, I know what you are thinking, and you often write in your diary while I’m by your side. I can read your cursive scrawl. I can see the poems and short stories you write by hand and tear to shreds so no one can lay an eye on them. I can see it all, and I know you have a potential you have yet to recognize.

Ani yanked my wire out of the socket—that always made me jolt. A smile curled up at the corner of her lips, and I beamed, knowing that part of her happiness that morning came from me.

Ani always left the house early in the morning while the air was still cool and the room was lit with a blue, hazy hue. I wondered what she did with her days. She might have wandered in her car, fed stray dogs, or meandered down dusty sidewalks. I’m imagining all of this, as I couldn’t possibly know what happened outside these walls.

I hoped, in my heart, that Ani was meeting somebody; a clandestine romance. That was a thrilling thought. I wanted Ani to be loved and to love—I felt like a grandma thinking this, but I am truly not. I believe Ani can be an independent woman and still crave the experience of love. At least that is what I have deciphered about humanity through the endless number of films and television shows Ani watched.

The humidity started to cling to my skin, and I despised Ani’s musty room even more than when I first reached it. It was more usual to grow fond of something as time passed, but this room became worse as each day shed new light on the chipped wooden furniture and dust balls floating about the grainy floor. The room, when silent, became an irksome place to sit.

My boredom, fortunately, came to a halt as the door swung open. I found myself relieved that Ani was home so soon. I missed her presence when she wasn’t around. No matter how much she moped and sobbed before me, I would never leave her. However, instead of Ani, the two clingy women tainted my sight. I wanted to look away, to crawl off the table, but I was glued to the spot.

“Look in the drawers.” Tina croaked, her throat dry from the peanuts she munched all day long. I could smell the foul nut on her breath from afar.

“What are we looking for?” Guari was alarmed, not knowing Tina’s business.

“Just anything to make sure that Ani isn’t hiding anything from us. She is meeting Rahul today, and I want to know everything about her before we introduce her to him and his family. If she has any hidden talents that we can mention, or if there is anything that we must put a stop to.”

“Do you think she is going around with someone?” Gauri scrunched her face like a sweet candy just turned sour in her mouth.

“No, not my Ani, and it's called dating. I will find a suitable match, and Rahul is a good option if she is willing to cooperate.”

I couldn’t believe Tina and Gauri were arranging her marriage. I had the urge to scream, to reprimand the women before me, but there was nothing I could do. My insides churned at the thought of Ani being bombarded by a man and his family in the evening.

Tina dawdled about the room until her head perked up with an idea. She lifted the edge of the mattress to find crumpled sheets of paper.

“Are those letters?” Gauri hobbled around the bed, her interest piqued.

“Please, no one writes letters. It looks like this is poetry.”

“Very good, we must mention it to the Malhotras. I am sure Rahul will appreciate that Ananya writes poetry.” Gauri nodded, approving of her deplorable plan.

I had the fervent desire to rip the last strands of hair from Gauri’s head. From all the nights and days I observed Ani, it was clear that writing poetry was a private affair. No one was meant to see her poems—especially not Tina.

“We should read these poems to them!” Tina exclaimed.

After those last words were uttered, I itched to burn off Tina’s face with my heated arms.

***

The room stood still for the rest of the afternoon. I spent countless hours perusing the new sheets Devika and Mani draped over the bed after sweeping across the floor with a long, bristled broomstick. The sheets were a baby pink with roses blooming in straight rows. The colour had the effect of staring at the sun. After a point, I could only see red and white dots flashing before me. The silence was shattered as the front doorbell rang; I heard both Tina and Gauri dash to the entrance, and a surge of cacophonous greetings came my way through the thin bedroom door. The Malhotras were here.

“Welcome, welcome!” Gauri ushered the guests in, and there was a distinct clicking of heeled shoes on the floor.

“Would you like some tea or lemonade?” Tina sounded breathless.

“Chai sounds good.” It was a dry and distant voice. Something told me it must have been Rahul.

“Ananya is just on her way. She had to go out for some work, but she will be back anytime now.”

“What does she do for work?” This was a woman’s voice. Her words were dry and monotonous—just like Rahul’s.

“Oh, just this and that…she is a writer.” The words sputtered from Tina’s mouth.

“How lovely! It is great that kids can do what they love nowadays.” This voice was a hearty old man’s.

“Ah, yes.” Tina was delighted to hear a form of approval from one of the Malhotras.

“What do you do, Rahul, beta?” Gauri chimed in on the conversation. It seemed Devika or Mani had brought in the chair, and the distinct clatter of tea cups filled the room.

“I work in finance,” Rahul said once the clinking noise faded away.

“Very good.” Guari approved, and I felt the urge to smirk, even though I couldn’t really express the way humans do.

“May I use the bathroom?” Rahul asked.

“Yes, yes, of course. The bathroom outside is currently being repaired. You may use the one in Ani’s room.”

The door opened with a clatter, and Rahul entered with large strides. The kind of gait only a short, bald man would have, to solidify his presence. His beady eyes and sallow skin made me queasy. I couldn’t bear the thought of my Ani being married to this man. He was all wrong for her; his presence in the room filled the air with a putrid stench. I wanted to shove him out of the door.

His eye caught something on the dresser, and he came closer to me, to my dismay. On the mirror, I recalled Ani had pasted a photo of herself from Copenhagen; it was our last and most cherished trip before we ended up in this place. Rahul looked at the image as his tongue slowly traced his thick lips. I wanted, with all of my heart, to rip the photo apart so no one could see it the way Rahul was at that moment. His dark eyes gleamed with thoughts no one would utter outloud, but I could read right through him.

After what felt like an eternity, Rahul stumbled to the bathroom and remained inside for a long, icky amount of time.

“Ananya, what have you done!” Tina’s voice was the shrill of a peacock—distinct, even through the closed bedroom door. I nearly jolted off the table.

“Rahul, beta! We should get going. Gauri, Tina, thank you for having us over. We will be in touch.” This was Rahul’s mother. “Rahul!” She yelled.

“Coming, Ma!” Rahul hustled from the bathroom, zipping up his pants just as he yanked open the bedroom door.

“Thank you for the tea. We should be on our way.” It was Rahul’s mother again, and it seemed the Malhotras skittered out of the room with haste.

The front door slammed with a clatter, and Ananya said, “Well, I'd better go as well.”

“You just came, where are you going now?” I couldn’t tell, but it seemed Tina was speaking through gritted teeth.

“Just out.” Ananya kept a nonchalant tone. I heard the front door close with a shudder, and I knew Ani had left while Tina and Gauri remained stunned in the living room.

No one seemed to be uttering a word about what Ani had done. My curiosity was piqued.

***

Sunlight shone through the curtains and spilled over the dusty floor. Ani never made it back to her bedroom that night. Hope rose and dove right back down as Devika and Mani wandered through the door instead of Ani.

“So, she stayed out all night?” Devika asked.

“Yes. I can’t believe she did that. Everyone is talking about it.” Mani hunched her shoulders and began sweeping with swift motions.

“Oh, really?”

“Yes, you know Tushar, the Bansals’ son? He always praised Ani’s beauty.”

My heart glimmered. I knew Ani was beautiful; others saw it too. She needed to see it as well.

“Yes, I heard him praise her, too. His family isn’t a respectable one. Otherwise, Tina Didi would have arranged Ani’s marriage with him. He’s very handsome, you know.” Mani had crouched on the ground, sweeping underneath the bed. With all the chatting, I wondered if Mani was merely scattering the dust around the room instead of removing it. Devika was half-heartedly changing the sheets.

“Yes, he is handsome. I guess Ani won’t be getting married for some time now.” Devika seemed to mourn something I couldn’t decipher.

“That is true.”

The two of them skittered out of the room to finish the rest of the chores in the apartment. Ani didn’t come back all day, and I spent most of the hours wondering what she could have possibly done. Did she show up in inappropriate clothes? Did she get far too many piercings? Did she get a tattoo on her face? Did she cut off her ear? There was a thought nagging at the back of my mind all day, and it became my unfortunate reality when Ani floated into the room, and I saw what she had done.

Her charming, triangular face, hidden behind curtains of hair, shone with a radiance I never knew she could have. Her eyes sparkled, and her clean head glistened under the bedroom lights.

Ananya had shaved her head, and my work was now rendered useless. Ani approached the dressing table and lifted me into the air. If I could have cried, I would have shed a few tears onto Ani’s beige blouse. Ani brought me closer and placed her soft lips against my cool skin. Before I was lowered into the bottom drawer, into eternal darkness, I glanced at Ani’s dancing eyes and wide grin. I could tell she would be fine. My time with her had come to its inevitable end—until we crossed paths again.