‘My sister,’ she says, ‘she said later that I deserved it. For what I had done.’ She blinks away her tears. She continues, ‘They don’t know that I can obliterate their lives.’
‘Your Jiju’s affair?’ I ask.
‘I can send pictures in every group,’ she says. ‘But also my brother. I can kill him. He’s on Grindr,’ she says. ‘I have proof too.’ She snaps her fingers. ‘Five minutes and I can destroy them both.’
‘But then, we would be just like them,’ I tell her. ‘Not that I want to be nice. But I don’t want to encourage you because right now it’s extremely easy to fall into that trap.’
Her lip curls slightly. She nods. I know she won’t do it. That time has happened.
‘So,’ I say finally, and I can’t help the laugh that escapes. ‘Our families are shit. And we are—’
‘Collateral damage.’
That breaks the tension. I find myself smiling.
‘We need to remind ourselves it’s them,’ I say. ‘It’s about them. It’s about their control.’
‘That’s true. How could I not see that all they wanted was to own me?’ Aditi says. ‘My choices, my future, my happiness. The second I chose something for myself, I was not just disagreeing with them, I wasstealingfrom them.’
‘The second we show them that their way of living isn’t the only way, that their rules aren’t laws, they can’t stand it.’
‘They should have a licensing system for being a parent,’ shesays.
‘Absolutely,’ I say. And then add, ‘What do you think should be on the list?’
She thinks for a while and says, ‘Module One should be not viewing your child as a long-term investment, retirement plan or the source of all pride. Module Two, understanding that “because I said so” is not a valid argument after the age of four.’
‘Half the country would fail,’ I say.
She raises an eyebrow. ‘Only half?’
We fall quiet again. I glance at her. She’s still facing the ocean. Her arms are relaxed now. Her jaw unclenched.
‘We will get through this,’ I say.
‘What option do we have?’ she says.
A long silence. Then finally, I say, ‘Come on. Let’s go back.’
She nods. We put on our helmets. I start the scooter. She gets on behind me, her arms slipping around me again. Familiar. Anchor. The ride back is slow, steady, and silent. It doesn’t feel like I am escaping any more.
26
Aditi
The first thing I register is the light. It’s too cheerful, spilling through a gap in the curtains.Where are the blackout curtains?I think, and then the night before rushes back in: the screaming match on speakerphone, the shattered phone, the frantic scooter ride. I turn my head slowly. Raghav is in the other bed. He’s fully clothed, on top of the covers, looking suspiciously peaceful.
I sit up and look at the time. It’s 11 a.m. and yet I don’t feelrested.
I drag myself to the washroom. The warm light is luxurious, the water pressure in the sink is wonderful, and the toothbrush is bamboo.You know how you’re paying for this,the voice in my head whispers. I shut it out and wash my face. Then, I take the big tray of fruits and chocolates the hotel staff had left and tiptoe to the side of the pool. For the next hour, I devour the chocolates one by one and scroll through the entirety of the internet, a mindless, aggressive swipe of my thumb. I don’t know when I fall asleep, but when I stir awake, Raghav is standing over me and the sun is setting.
‘We slept the whole day,’ he says.
‘You deserved sleep,’ I tell him. ‘You were snoring all throughout, by the way.’
‘I don’t snore,’ he says.
‘Please, I have a video,’ I lie.
