I Did Not Know My Weight

"Lalitha, not again!"

I got down from the Light-on-Light-off Pillar that ate coins and ran towards Mother. She told me not to go running towards them again. Last Warning. You never messed with Mother's Last Warnings. With Father, you didn't mess at all. I always loved catching trains. I liked the Train Girl's voice who told Father where the train would come and we would run to catch it. She would speak to me in my head even days after we had done being on the train. Father never told me where the Train Girl was. I always looked around, but in the sea of feet, dragging wheels, and sometimes dragging feet, I could never locate her. When we were going to Madurai yesterday year, I asked Mother where Train Girl lived and if I could be her. 

"But don't you want to be a doctor?"

"But, Train Girl. I can see my patients when there are no trains coming for us."

"But then what happens to the other people? How do they know what train to go to?" 

Mother was smart. That is why she was a doctor. Maybe she had been a Train Girl too, because she sometimes knew where the train would come even when Father did not, when Train Girl hadn't called. Father was fair and funny, I wasn't, Mother wasn't, but sometimes they laughed at what I said. He sometimes spoke to me in Punjabi, because Father was Punjabi which was Far Away. For Far Away we needed trains. We lived in Pernampattu. For Not So Far Away, we used buses. Buses had six wheels, sometimes four wheels. Ms. Jacobs told us. 

There was another Light-on-Light-off Pillar, I looked at Mother. And this time she looked at Father, and he smiled. He kept the bag of murukku and coconuts on his shoulder on the ground near Mother, and then held my hand and took me to the Pillar, while Mother waited. I told Father I love him and hopped onto the Pillar, and the Wheel started to move. Father told me I'd have to stop moving so much, otherwise my weight wouldn't register properly. I stood still. Father put coins for it to eat. The Light off-ed and then spat out a card that I couldn't reach. Mother was calling. Father did not even read the card, just picked me up and ran towards Mother. But, I wanted to know my weight. Mother kept saying something hurriedly to Father as he hoisted the bag again on his shoulder, and grabbed the suitcase and started walking, fast. But, Train Girl hadn't announce anything yet. Mother stared at me angrily, and I didn't speak. Maybe the card from the Pillar told them where to go, maybe Train Girl ran it, and it didn't have my weight at all. I held my tears back. I wanted to know my weight.

Some time later, when the train had come and we were on it, Father's face was happy again. He kept the bag with the coconuts on the side and then our suitcase. He took out the jingling chains and fastened them to the seat. My legs kept coming in the way, so Father picked me up and handed me to Mother who kept looking outside the window. I could still hear Train Girl telling other people where to go. I liked Train Girl. 

I woke up wanting murukku, when I saw Four Loud Men sitting beside Father on the other seat. They were all big, tall and weren't cold with the AC. Two Loud Men had hair on their lip like Father. I did not like hair on the lip. But Father liked it. In the mornings that I wouldn't want to ride on Father's scooter to Ms. Jacobs in Kids' Nest because Adithi came in a car, and I sometimes got wet in the rain, Father would try to kiss me and his hair on the lip would come in between. Mother was sitting with me, reading a magazine. The Other Two Loud Men with no hair on the lip started singing a Tamil song loudly, and laughing. The Two Loud Men got up on the Top Floor Seat , laughed and played the song on their phone.

Mother slowly pulled me towards her, when Four Loud Men asked me what my name was.

"Lalitha."

"Lalitha, growing up to be as pretty as your mother?"

"Yes. I will be Train Girl like her too."

They looked at each other and laughed. Mother slapped me, and told me not to talk to them. Father, meanwhile got up and said something to them. They started playing the songs on their phone louder.

Father and Mother discussed something in hushed whispers. I kept looking at the Four Loud Men. One of them winked at me. I smiled back. He then pointed to his leg, then bobbed his head up and down with his mouth open, like when Ms. Jacobs taught us how to say O. I didn't know what he meant. "Ask your Mother", the Other Two Loud Men said. Four Loud Men laughed. Loudly. I smiled, and tried copying what he was doing. They laughed even louder. Father rose, and shouted. Even louder. The Four Loud Men said sorry. I did not know what they were saying sorry for, much like I did not know my weight.

Late at night, I woke up to a scream. Mother's scream. Mother's elbow hit my eye as she tried to push off Four Loud Men who tried to wrestle with her. People rushed from other places and took them away. Everyone asked Mother if she was okay. Mother held me to her chest tightly. I couldn't open my eyes, or breathe. Mother cried. I cried. I heard Father. I heard them talk in hushed whispers, throughout the night. Not like Four Loud Men or like Everyone. 

We reached the next day, at noon. There were different Light-on-Light-off Pillars here. I looked at Mother again. She was irritable, and did not even look at me. I sat on the floor, saying I wouldn't go and I was tired. Father hired a coolie to pick the bag of murukku and coconuts because he had to pick me. 

"This must be twenty kilos, sir", I heard him say.
I still did not know my weight.

She Could Count Till Four

Inside and out. Inside and out. Inside and out. Inside and out.

She counted till four.
That’s all she could count.
The pain blinded her.

The white left him.
And slowly blackened her insides.
The red slowly trickled down her leg.
No boil. Meek. For a lifetime.
The blue scars guffawed.
And no matter how much she tried
To douse the fire within
The water seeped out through her eyes.
Silent, scared, timid.
Shadows seemed to touch her.
Shadows seemed to let go.

And in that haze of boiling rice,
She cooked a broth of unsaid words.
She stirred the rice with the ladle of irony.
And watched the bubbles of her dreams burst.

Trust was a five-letter word.
Alas. She could count till four.

I wanted to be Tabitha

Finally when my name was called out, I just could not hold my smile. I jumped on to the stage, stumbled a little on the green, clean carpet that Maali Baba was beating the dust off a few days back, and ran to Principal ma'am, all the time looking the other way, into the audience, to Abbu. And sure enough, he stood there applauding, like any other father, yet so different from all the other fathers in the room. Abbu was not a very tall man, yet his features attracted people automatically. He had a round face, and an ever-present stubble, owing to his starting to shave very early, he told me. And even when the stubble was absent, what was never amiss from Abbu's face was his smile. Abbu's smile was.. just Abbu's. He could scare pigeons away with his laugh, but his smile drew everyone closer, its warmth calmed everyone around him.

I never kept any secrets from Abbu. I could not. My father got me my first ever doll, Kusum. Actually, to be fair, Ammi bought it, but still Abbu was the one who gave Kusum to me on my birthday. Groggy, sleepy-eyed, I went back to sleep on Ammi's chest till Abbu tickled me awake.

"Nasreen, look here”, he said, and all I remembered was his smile. I saw Kusum later, I first noticed his smile. Abbu told me, in fact, to name the doll Kusum. And so Kusum she was called. Like the name, Abbu used to whisper tiredly into my ear the times when Ammi wasn't home, and we, Abbu and I, slept together. I would know that was the end, when I would slowly roll over and sleep.

While coming back from the school, I could not stop talking about Tabitha, my new Christian friend from 6-A. Tabitha said she was Goanese, but wasn't she Christian? I asked Abbu, because he had all the answers. He knew about the President, about big numbers and how to calculate the value of x each time, he knew why certain birds fly and others don’t, he knew why Ammi’s rotis were soft and fluffy while his were crunchy and thin. He knew why after the terrible stomach ache, why the place between my legs started bleeding. But he softly called Ammi to explain. Ammi told me to not ask other girls if they had it too. But I asked Tabitha. She seemed genuinely surprised to know that I knew, and that got us talking. Anyway, Abbu then told me how Tabitha did not do namaaz the way we did, and also that she was from this small state that he promised he'll point to her on the atlas he'll get for my 12th birthday, which was just a month away.

“But then, Abbu, how did Allah listen to her then? Is that why Tabitha had to live in an orphanage? Because she was Christian?”

Abbu laughed and said that she had Jesus the same way I had Allah. I did not like Jesus. Why must he make Tabitha live without Abbu and Ammi? “Abbu, so Tabitha doesn’t have that secret?”

Abbu paused and looked right ahead, the smile on his face had vanished. “Tasreen, we talked about the secret. You never mention it to anyone. Not even Ammi or me. Is this not mentioning it?” Abbu’s voice was hard, hoarse and cold. I did not like this Abbu. But the good thing was, he did not stay this way for long. Soon enough, the smile was back and we stopped at Kwality Walls and I had a Strawberry Cone without letting anything drip over my hands carefully, just the way Abbu had taught me, with other things. Ammi wasn’t home when we reached. She was rarely home ever since she got transferred to the airport. I knew what that meant. I quickly undressed and waited in the bedroom for Abbu to finish showering.

When Ammi came home that night, I told her about my prize and Tabitha. Ammi seemed surprised at me making friends with Tabitha. “Nasreen”, she started, her mouth full of fluffy roti, that she made, “you are growing up now, you must understand that we are very respected people in the society. You shouldn’t hang around with riff-raff like that.” She glared at Abbu.

Abbu, with his warm smile took charge. He told me that Tabitha was a nice girl but I should play with Yasmeen and Sabiqa. I sometimes just couldn’t get Ammi.

I left dinner and went to my room. I sat there and cried, my stomach hurt, so did the place between my legs. Outside, Ammi and Abbu were shouting at each other because they did not like Tabitha. I wanted to be Tabitha then. To not have a fighting Ammi and Abbu, to not have a secret.

Mathe-Magic for Class III

It is Shruti's happybirthday today. Mother gave her toffees left from Shrey's and Prey's happybirthday one, two months back. She gave the toffees to her friends. Everyone sang happybirthday to her. She skipped happily from where the van stopped, carefully holding onto Mother's saree as she held up Shrey and Prey in her arms and coaxed them to tell her how school went.

Shruti got home, untied her shoes, and slowly folded up her uniform that she knew she would have to wear tomorrow. Shrey's and Prey's, she put into the machine, they were boys, they got it dirty playing in the field. They had three sets each. Three sets of identical red checkered shirts and brown shorts, but only one red checkered girls' frock. All this while, she skipped, humming happybirthday to herself.

Shruti had to do homework, even though it was her happybirthday. She was a big girl, big girls never had happybirthday parties with friends. She had once asked Mother, the fingers on her cheek still stung. Mother was a big girl, Mother had happybirthday parties with her friends too. Maybe she needed to be as big as Mother to have them again. Shrey and Prey were small, they had happybirthday parties too.

Kakoli auntie was making Shrey write her 'Q' while Prey chewed his pencil. Shruti looked at her own book. "Lata and Gita went to a party together. Lata had 2 cakes and Gita.." She looked at the problem sum again. Kakoli auntie had told her it was of addition. Maybe Lata and Gita were not big girls like Shruti. That is why they still had parties. But was the cake for happybirthday party? Shruti stared at the problem some more. "..Gita had 4 cakes. How many cakes did they have altogether?" But was it not necessary to know what the cakes were for? Were Lata and Gita like Shrey and Prey? Was Shruti the only one who was all alone stuck with no happybirthday parties?

Kakoli auntie's hand moved, and before Shruti knew her left cheek was red and tears were streaming from her eyes. Shrey's Q's looked like balloons moving away through her hazy vision, as Kakoli auntie screamed at her for not knowing how to add 2 and 4. But.. Happybirthday..

After Shrey and Prey had finished their pagefuls of Q's and R's and Shruti had managed to count 6 cakes on her fingers, Mother entered with a bowlful of kheer and samosas, and told Kakoli auntie that it was her birthday. "But wasn't it happybirthday", Shruti asked. Mother told her to get back to her book. Shruti bent her head into Mathe-magic for Class III, hoping to find an answer.

When Father came, and Shruti had done four additions one after the other, and Shrey and Prey hadwatched Doraemon on the TV, Shruti tugged at her Mother's saree again and asked if she would get a gift because Anjali from school said she would. Mother asked her to finish addition.

Maybe all of life's answers were in Mathe-magic for Class III.Father gave her a kiss as she packed her bag after dinner. Mother also came after putting Shrey and Prey to sleep. They kept a tiger on her lap.

Shruti didn't cry. Her happybirthday had ended. With a tiger whose head Shrey and Prey would tear away tomorrow.

They were boys.