Chapter 26

Maybe life didn't suck. It just popped up awful things such as dilemmas and feelings and made one feel ungrateful to life.

Vee

6th May 2019, Monday
7:30

"Whose idea was this?" Hardik asked in awe.

"Shay," I answered, equally stunned. "But everyone helped her from what I've heard."

"Honestly, if it wasn't her, you guys would be losers."

I couldn't agree more. With a Vice-President like Shay, we would be doing great throughout the year. I smiled, my insides full of pride. Whatever gave her the idea, it was amazing.

"Why are you smiling like a child?" Hardik nudged me.

"I'm just enjoying the paintings."

He snorted. "By staring at your shoes? What's up with you, huh?"

"Nothing."

I took a step ahead and touched the first painting she painted, a combination of three faces, all different, equally beautiful and hideous, like us. Ashiamma had asked me for an idea and the thing that popped up in my mind was a face, then another and finally the bridge that connected the two. They fit each other like pieces of different puzzles adaptable to changes. A girl's left side with a guy's right, supported by the lips and chin of another face, all their noses broken but completed together. If they chose to leave, they'd die. If they stayed together, they'd support each other but would find flaws in themselves, how one's nose was crooked, other's cheek bruised, one was missing eyes, other was missing opportunity to taste.

When Shay had seen it, she had asked Ashiamma what it meant. It was a good painting, she had said. Shay had insisted it had a meaning which I ended up explaining.

"And their bodies?" She had said with fascination. "What if they're different but have one heart. Yet they manage to stand apart."

We both had ended up creating a story out of it, one that Ashiamma wasn't interested in. They had different bodies but shared the same blood. It was the brain of the first two that caused trouble, difference in opinions, difference in likes and dislikes, difference in feelings and hormones and everything that pressed the heart to divide into three to withstand each one's changes.

That was the beginning of falling apart. It was dreamt of by the two who formed the upper face but not the third face, the one with no brain, just a heart. It was this person's heart that broke and what was left behind was a residue. They could survive alone now but it would not really be living or even surviving if half of the sense organs are missing. Days later, they came back together but never regained their ability, at least not without a reminder - the little crack where they merged.

"Not necessarily." Shay's frown had not liked my ending. "Skin grows back after injury without leaving scars unless it's deep. Was their desire to live separately deeper than the pleasure of complete experience?"

For some, it could be. For some, it may not be. For those three, I preferred not to come to a conclusion because my mind could never be stationary.

I stared at the background colours, their collision with the foreground. A line ran between their faces as the crack. I frowned and took a step back.

"This isn't real," I said.

"What?" Hardik asked.

"This is not what she drew." The line was supposed to be only till the middle, the indecisive minds unsure about the future. But I saw a complete partition separating them.

"Where's Shay?"

Hardik shrugged. "I haven't seen her. Maybe she'll come later. The arrival timings are till 7:50. It's 7:30. Vicky, is everything alright?"

I nodded and examined other paintings. Something was off.

"What are you-"

"I know what I'm doing," I said to him, removing one painting from the wall. I turned it around and searched for my signature. "This isn't real. None of these are."

I decided to be sure and walked to the Art Room, strongly hoping I was misjudging things. The almirah was surprisingly open. Everything inside was a mess, charts taking up most of the space, pens scattered, sheets piled up in a disoriented order.

"Vicky." Hardik pointed at the uppermost shelf. I sighed in relief and pulled out the crumbled sheet of paper. The owl's painting. The white background glistened with dust while the blue owl was freckled with white dots.

"See this," I said and pointed at my signature at the back. "Ashiamma made me sign the ones I helped her with which according to her were all."

You're here to criticize, tell me I'm not as great as I assume myself to be, she always said.

"Maybe you're mistaken," Hardik said.

I hoped he was right. It could be my delusion. Besides, it wasn't possible to replicate them without making people notice. I pressed the creased paper into his hands. "Go and see."

He gave me a troubled look, sighed and left the room. I closed the almirah.

"Good Morning." Shay had a full grin on her face.

"Morning," I mumbled and did a double take. "What are you doing here early in the morning?"

"I'm on half day. I'll go back home around twelve. What are you doing here?"

"Half day? Why? I mean, is everything alright?" I asked.

"I tripped down the stairs." My eyes widened. "Don't freak out. It was just two feet high. It hurt a little but my parents freaked out and now I have an appointment with the doctor."

"I'm not freaking out," I mumbled.

"Of course you are not." She shook her head. "I thought I'll just get some work done in the first hour. It's free anyway."

"You don't study?"

"No," she shook her head. "It's our time to complete work."

I grunted, jealous of the fact that these Medical students had an hour free everyday. "And here we are, tossed from one teacher to another everyday."

She sat down and rested her chin on her palm. "Poor you. Who was eager to take Commerce?"

I groaned. "You're never going to let that go, are you?"

Ashiamma and Shay had their mind set on Medical while I had a bet with them that Commerce would be an easier option. Two years later, I was sulking here. There was not a single day Ashiamma haf let me live without reminding me to suck it up because I 'always' sucked at betting.

I glanced at Shay whose mocks stayed until last year. She was shuffling through her bag, her back facing me. I didn't want to believe she did that. The dragon was not on fire, it was set on fire, intentionally for the sake of pleasure. I wanted to tell myself this. Ashiamma was dead, maybe our rivalry could die too. Rivalry was not even the right word. There was no right word that could fit the splattered emotions, no canvas huge enough to express it all, just darkness to engulf it all - either the past or the present.

"Is there something on my face?" Shay asked.

I blinked and shook my head. "Was I staring?"

She gave me a funny look and shook her head. I got up and looked out of the door. Hardik was coming to me, slightly nodding his head.

"You were right," he said. "I just can't believe i-"

I punched him on the shoulder to shut him up.

He looked over my shoulder. "Good Morning, Shay."

Shay, like a dog caught stealing, looked at both of us with wide eyes. "Good Morning."

Hardik pushed me aside. I snatched the paper from his hand.

"How are you?" he asked her.

"Fine," Shay replied, not meeting his eyes.

I leaned against the door and watched her nod to everything Hardik said, her gaze fixated on the table.

"So you're doing a good job," he said. "A great job, actually."

She nodded.

"Are you two back to friends now?"

She was about to nod but stopped. Her mouth opened and closed, then came a little shake of head and she turned to me. "I need to tell you something."

Her bag fell along and I caught a glimpse of a very familiar book. Hardik must have caught it too because he raised an eyebrow and looked at me. He opened his mouth but I pointed at the door.

"Sorry about that," Shay said, trying to collect her items, oblivious to what we had just seen.

"I'll pick it up," Hardik said. He collected everything and handed it over to her.

"Hardik," I said. I didn't have to spell it out.

He stooped on the way out and whispered, "Don't start any fights again."

I didn't bother replying. It was none of his business to tell me what to start, what to forget.

"Did you say something?" Shay asked.

I nodded. "Yes. We need to talk."

Hardik sighed and muttered, "You'll regret it."

"What was that in your bag?" I asked.

"Vi-"

I snatched my arm from his grip and pointed at the door. "Leave."

"Come back to the class in fifteen minutes or you'll have to stand out f-"

"I know. I'll be back." Turning to Shay, I waited for an answer.

"I don't know," she said. She pulled out the magazine from her bag. "School magazine."

It was torn into shreds, barely hanging together as one piece. I picked up her bag and turned it upside down. More fell out of this.

"Is this some kind of joke?" I barked.

"Leave it," Shay mumbled.

I gave her an incredulous look. It was impossible that she'd trash her own bag.

"I left my bag outside the reception when I went to fill out for half day. Possibly it happened then."

"Happened? What do you mean 'happened'? Someone did this intentionally. W-"

I stopped short. The magazine had been lying in the washroom days back. Of course she'd do it. Of course.

"Kiara?" I asked. "She did this, didn't she?"

Shay looked away. "It doesn't matter. She's Junior."

I clenched my jaw. "Doesn't make a difference. Did she do it?"

The bell rang.

"You should probably go," she said.

"Take a look at the paintings once," I said. "And take care of your leg."

I couldn't believe that girl. Was she blaming this on Shay as well?

"What happened to the paintings?" Shay asked.

"See for yourself," I said and walked out.

Then I remembered the vicious look Kiara had on her face when she threatened Shay, taking the painting from her. She had fallen and Kiara didn't even think about hurting her. Of course she did all of this. Of course.

19:50

I was pulled out of my sleep by the knock at the door. Glad that someone decided to wake me up before Shay pointed at the painting again and the dragon burnt again, I opened the door.

"Mummy?" I said. "Come on in."

She shook her head. "Dinner's ready. I called you three times and decided to check. You were sleeping, weren't you?"

I shrugged sheepishly. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay. Your Papa isn't at home, by the way. I was hoping he would be. There's something you guys need to know."

I nodded and followed her downstairs.

"No more drinks from today, both for you and him. The craters came today. I sent them back," she said as I sat down in my chair.

I frowned. "That's just an aerated drink."

"Doesn't matter," she said and filled my plate with rice. "What happened to your forehead?"

I touched the scratch that Nolan had given me earlier today. "Nothing. It happened in the Sports Period."

She eyed it, clearly signalling that she refused to believe a single word.

I played around with my spoon. "Can I ask you something?"

She nodded. "Unlike your Papa, my talks are alcohol free."

I scrunched up my nose. "Is that supposed to be a taunt?"

She shrugged and sipped water out of her glass as if it was champagne. "Reality."

I snickered but ended up giving her a flat look.

"Back to the original topic, what's up?"

"I don't know," I said and leaned back.

She pushed my plate towards me, not caring if it would fall down. I grabbed it at the right moment.

"I asked you to spill your guts. Fill your stomach." She handed me the spoon as if it was a sword and I was the warrior.

"Should we let go of things or should we not?" I asked after a moment of thinking which was nothing but a path to confusion.

"Depends," she said immediately. "Do you want to?"

I gazed at my plate. "I think I need to."

"Then you should."

"But I don't want to."

She laughed. I raised an eyebrow which led to more fits of laughter.

"Indecisive nature runs in your blood," she said. "If letting go helps you, then yes. But if that's the only knowledge you have, your only weapon to fight the barriers, then let it stay. I'll take a guess. It's none. You simply can't let it go because of your ego but that's the only thing you think about, so you want to get done with it."

At least she was taking a guess, I wasn't even doing that.

"Why do you think I have ego issues?" I asked.

She snorted. "I have spent my life with a man much more egoistic than you, sweetheart. You tell me." She paused and smiled. "But he's not always having ego issues, sometimes it's just fear of letting go."

I looked at her and her gaze softened. She meant me. "He's afraid of letting me go?"

"Are you not?"

Junior's face flashed in front of my eyes, her happy eyes munching on my chips while she passed a comment on my paintings, her shrug when I asked for an opinion on Ashiamma and Shay or Ashiamma and Rishab, her exasperated sigh after stepping out of an examination room. She was my Junior, not school's Kiara, my little sister, not a dead girl's crazy friend.

I answered Mummy, "I'm afraid I've already let go."

"Vick, it's not always about letting go. Sometimes, most of the time, the rope is right there to hold again."

I sighed, already getting tired of this. "What if," I paused, hoping I was phrasing it correct. "What if two people, both equally important, are against each other?"

"You don't have to choose a side. If they want you to, then they're not good for you."

How did she answer me without missing a beat? It took time to at least think.

"You've already chosen sides, haven't you?"

"Once," I admitted. "But not this time."

"Give yourself a break. You're doing better than what I was expecting. I saw Ashiamma's mother and the amount of condolences she was getting was..."

"Awful?"

She nodded. "It's okay to miss someone, even better to take their name confidently. Impact of death has no expiry date. It lingers around you till your death, which in turn lingers around somebody else till their death.. It keeps on going, just like birthdays. We look at our loved ones and adore the day they were born. We need to look at those who're gone the same way. Condolences are not memoirs, they're pity. One lady went up to her and said she was sorry for her daughter, for her loss. Not one spoke her daughter's name. It is Ashiamma, I wanted to tell them all. People think mourning has a time, a month, perhaps a year. It doesn't. You cry in the memory of your child at their birthdays, you cry for your parents at your graduation ceremonies. People cry all the time and it's okay. In the end, we're all going to die anyway."

"Apparently, our society functions in a different way," I muttered.

"It does." She nodded. "But that's not the point. The point is most people let go of grudges and curses and bad blood only after they're left alone. What's the use of shedding negativity if there is no one left to share your happiness?"

Shay or Kiara or anyone else wasn't really injecting poison in me. These were my own thoughts and dilemmas. I stared at Mummy and tilted my head, amazed and perplexed at the same time. I decided then, it was easier to let go of things that did not involve me, that I didn't witness. Kiara, on the other hand, was an entirely different place that I wasn't sure if I'd like to venture.

"Start with your Papa," she said with a smile.