Chapter 20

A strong enticing scent of ginger and cardamom drifted through the bedroom where Sheetal lay curled up in a mattress, tangled in her blanket. She stretched her arms above her head, yawning like a panda, then slowly pushed herself upright. The room was still a little dark, the sun hasn’t fully risen yet. Or maybe the rain clouds are blocking his rays. 

Either way, she felt lazy to wake up, but she couldn’t ignore the smell. Beside her, a dabara – tumbler set sat on the cold floor, the tumbler brimming with her favourite tea, covered by trembling bubbles on the surface, small threads of steam rising to her sleepy gaze. 

Little tears pricked behind her eyes while an involuntary smile spread across her face. All tiredness flew away and her hands darted to grab the steel set, eyes trying to peak into the living room through the half-opened door. 

She caught a glance of Sharini sitting crossed legged on the floor across the living room, leaning against the wall, fully immersed in the newspaper in her hand. Her hair was tied up, a small strand that had escaped framed her face. She was wearing a nerdy pair of glasses, her forehead creasing as she dipped a rusk into her own tumbler of tea.

Sheetal didn’t know if she would ever admit it loud how beautiful Sharini was to her. She hadn’t gotten out of the trance she was in, ever since she saw the teacher all dressed up in the party yesterday, but something about her so relaxed in her pajamas and glasses, made Sheetal internally swoon.

She couldn’t believe what she had said, or where she got the courage to say those things last night. But she only said what she truly felt. The prospect of a relationship beyond friendship scared her to her wits. But the thought of not being with Sharini, made her feel hollow inside. Like she was devoid of the person she was. Like a shell. Was it an unhealthy dependency? She doesn’t know. And she doesn’t care.

All she knew is that, despite the pain she had caused, Sharini was ready to give her a chance. The only thing the teacher had asked for, was to express her honest feelings, and a promise to try.

She didn’t say much after that last night. They still had to talk. A lot.

Lost in thought, Sheetal made her way to the living room, taking a sip from the tea, her eyes still trained on the girl in front of her.

“Good morning.” Sheetal said softly.

“Good morning.” Sharini didn’t look up right away. When she finally did, her gaze swept from Sheetal’s messy hair to the tumbler in her hand. She motioned her to sit down and turned her attention back to the paper. “Drink it before it gets cold.”

“You made it for me?”

Sharini rustled the newspaper like a shield. “Don’t think too much. I always make tea.”

But Sheetal could see the small upward curve of her lips. She didn’t push futher. Slowly, she lowered herself on to the floor nearby and took small sips. 

For a few seconds, nobody said nothing. The only sounds that could be heard were the ticking clock, and Sheetal slurping the tea to the last drops. Sensing a stubborn stare on herself, Sharini spoke from behind the paper. “Stop staring”.

“I am not staring!” Sheetal squealed, a futile attempt to defend herself. “I was just hoping…”, she hesitated, testing the waters, “If you are free today, can you maybe.. drop me at the station? Just for the morning show.”

The newspaper lowered. One raised eyebrow.“It’s Saturday. I thought you’d let me sleep.”

“You can sleep after. Please.”

Sharini exhaled loud, the corner of the papers sagging. Folding her paper in half, she set it aside, followed by her glasses. She pushed herself to get up and stretched her shoulders as if it was a great inconvenince, while Sheetal quietly gathered their now empty tumblers and stood up too, walking over to the kitchen to wash them.

“Fine”, Sharini muttered, already walking towards her room. Halfway there she paused to grab a towel while mumbling, her voice casual, almost careless. ‘If I had known you had a show this early, I wouldn’t have let us stay so long at the party last night.’

She tried to keep her voice low, like whispering to herself, but the words drifted over her shoulder, causing Sheetal to smile at the quiet admission, that Sharini had noticed and cared. 

********************************

The roads were blaring busy desipte it being pretty early in the day, every other person honking the horns as if their lives depend on it, as the scooter glided towards the studio. Sheetal clutched the side handle and adjusted a little closer, feeling the warmth of Sharini’s back in her arm. When they reached Hello FM, Sheetal hopped off with her bag, suddenly feeling shy. 

“Two hours?” Sharini asked.

“Two hours. Don’t wait if it is too boring. I’ll take the bus.”  she said, adjusting her kurti. She almost involuntarily reached for Sharini’s shirt front pocket to find some cash, only to pull herself together when the teacher said she’ll wait.

Sharini watched as Sheetal walked into the studio, then parked the vehicle and waddled to a nearby teastall. She settled on the wooden bench outside the stall, and pulled out a sketchbook and a pen. 

“Anna, oru tea, rendu butter biscuit.”, she called out to the vendor and got to drawing. 

The scene before her was nothing extraordinary. People walking here and there, rushing for the last working day of the week, just to be done with it and dive into tomorrow already, certain school buses caging a bunch of 5 year olds, drifting through the streets on this Saturday morning. While some others already enjoying their holiday, walking their pet. 

But Sharini’s focus was on a particular woman, dressed in shaggles, carrying a baby in her arms. Her hair was haywire, probably too grey for her age, she looked nothing past 30. She was covered in a dirty checkered saree, torn and stitched with patches, with a man’s shirt underneath. The kid latched onto her neck, wailing and whimpering, as the lady looked at the passers-by with outstretched arms, shouting pleas for money. 

Not many people stopped by her, the one or two that did, dropped some meager rupee notes or coins into her palm before walking away. Then there was another kid, probably her other child. He could have been around 4 years old, the kid was totally unbothered about the things happening around him. He was very excited about the brightly colored chocolate wrapper that he found on the floor. It was a half-eaten chocolate, that someone had carelessly thrown away.

The kid hesitantly tried a small piece of it first, and then his eyes widened like soccer balls, as he stuffed his mouth with the melted creamy deliciousness. His airy giggles made the mother smile despite her struggles, even if it was for a small moment. 

Sharini smiled too, her hands racing to ink the scene onto the paper. The child’s grin spread across her paper like sunrise. 

From the small radio box in the tea stall, a familiar voice floated through the hum of the street – warm, soothing and filling the air with a breath of softness. 

“Good morning, Chennai!”, Sheetal’s voice sang, a litle brighter than usual. “Sometimes the world feels like one long traffic jam, doesn’t it? But somewhere between the honks and the hurry, a stranger smiles, someone holds a door open, or you find your favourite tea waiting for you before you even ask. Small things, but those small things are almost enough to give you the strength, the energy to push through the day.”

Sharini’s hand continued to sketch like it had a mind of it’s own while her concentration slowly shifted to Sheetal’s words. 

Sheetal went on, her tone softer now – as if she forgot the mic in front of her and just talked. “This morning, if you’re listening, and you’ve got someone who still makes your day feel lighter, even after the fights, the silence, the doubts… just send them a thank you. If you can’t tell them, send a silent one from your heart. They’ll feel it, somehow.” 

The man beside Sharini let out a quiet chuckle, pulled out his phone, hesitated a second, then smiled to himself and dialed.

“Amma… just called to say thanks, ma. No reason. Just felt like it. Did you eat?“

Sharini didn’t look up — only the faintest smile appeared as she shaded the curve of the mother’s hand holding her child close.  Happy with the drawing, she closed her sketchbook shut and turned her attention to her tea and the radio. 

Time passed by pretty quickly. Sharini was scrolling through her phone mindlessly when the glass doors slid open and Sheetal walked out, bag slung over her shoulder.

Her hair was tousled from the headset, a few strands stuck to her cheek. She was still half-smiling about something her producer had said. Then her eyes found Sharini. She waved once, before crossing the sidewalk. 

“Hey“, Sheetal said, stopping by the bench. “Did you get bored waiting?” 

Sharini shook her head, patting the spot beside her. That’s when Sheetal noticed the sketchbook. Sheetal picked it up and started flipping through the pages, a gentle smile playing on her lips.

“Didn’t your show end like half an hour ago?“, Sharini asked, glancing at the radio playing faintly in the tea stall. She’d heard  the closing line and someone else take over while she was still drawing, “What took you so long?” 

Sheetal grinned, pretending to study the sketches. “Were you listening?” she asked innocently, feigning nonchalance but stealing glances at Sharini’s face with a hint of excitement, waiting for a clue, a reaction. 

Sharini reached for her glass of half-finished tea, taking a sip to hide her smile. “Hard not to.“, she said. “Every other shop across the street seems to have tuned in to your voice.“

“Well“, Sheetal said, half whispering as if she might jinx it, “my producer said they are considering giving me a regular slot. Maybe my own show“. 

Sharini’s eyes softened, “That’s great, Sheetal.”

“Fingers crossed“, Sheetal muttered, still flipping through the sketchbook – stopping at one of the newer pages. “This one’s good. You’ve got the smile just right.“

Sharini shrugged. “I just drew what I saw.” She set the glass down and gestured towards the road. “So…. is that all? Shall we head home? Maybe we can have breakfast on the way. I don’t feel like cooking today.” she blabbered on, reaching into her back for her keys.

But before she could, Sheetal’s hand came out, wrapping around her wrist. “Wait. Let’s not ride today. Come on – let’s walk. There’s this guy two streets down who makes the idlis with the best podi and bombay chutney. You’ve been sitting here all morning. You need to put something in here.“, she patted Sharini’s belly, grinning eye to eye. 

Sharini arched an eyebrow, “Walking? In this heat?“

“It’s still early, the sun’s forgiving.” Sheetal countered. “And besides –“, she tugged gently on Sharini’s wrist, a teasing glint in her eyes, “I’ll carry both our bags, and I’ll pay.” 

Sharini rolled her eyes, slipping the keys back in the bag, “Bribery. Fine. I’m down. Lead the way.“

Sheetal grinned and took off, her steps light and bouncy, the hem of her kurti catching the early breeze. She reached the curb before turning back to see Sharini still a few paces behind. “You’re walking too slow!“

Just as Sharini caught up, she noticed Sheetal still glancing back while stepping forward.  Alomst automatically, she reached for the shorter girl’s hand. Their fingers interlocked, fitting together naturally with pracitced ease, and she pulled Sheetal backwards, closer to her. “Idiot! Where are your eyes? You would have just run into that bus”, Sharini scolded. 

Sheetal gave her a sheepish smile, too focused on their interwined hands to even realize the dangers around her, Sharini just sighed and took the lead, glancing both ways before crossing, pulling the said idiot close. When they stepped onto the opposite pavement, neither pulled away. They continued to walk together, palms gently brushing against each other, until the row of food stalls came into view, sizzling and steaming in the gold of the morning. 

>>>

After a hearty breakfast and a little bit of bickering, the two girls walked back to where the scooter was parked, ready to leave. 

Sheetal was pretending to adjust her dhupatta, while Sharini unlocked the scooter, put on her helment and casually handed over the other to Sheetal. 

When Sheetal climbed behind astride again today, Sharini noticed with a glance on the mirror. Lately, Sheetal has been doing this a lot, which was a little uncommon, as she was used to Sheetal sitting behind her sideways. She didn’t question it though, as Sheetal mumbled something like her chudidhar is slippery on the seat today. 

As they ride through the streets, which were still bright but not very crowded, a few strands of Sharini’s hair had escaped the bounds of her helmet, lifting gently with the wind, tickling Sheetal’s cheek. 

Sheetal hesitates at first, then she gently reaches out, fingers first brush against Sharini’s sides, then resting against her waist, as she steadied herself on the seat. Sharini’s heart picked pace when she felt the other’s warm breath against her neck, but she doesn’t move away. Instead, she slightly tilts her head when Sheetal’s chin settles over her shoulder. 

For a second, the world blurs – the traffic, honks, and colors – everything fades, until it is just the rhthym of their heart beats falling into a peaceful sync. 

As they glided through an almost silent street, something caught Sheetal’s eye. “Hey, stop stop”, Sheetal chirped, digging her fingers into Sharini’s hips slightly as if that would stop the vehicle. Sharini hit the breaks immediately, causing both girls to jerk forward a little bit, their helmets clanking like wine glasses in a toast. “What is it?”, Sharini asked, worry clouding her senses. 

Sheetal pointed towards an older lady with a basket perched on her hips. Inside it were strands of jasmine flowers, fresh, white and glistening with dew. 

Sharini looked between the flowers and Sheetal’s excited face. “Flowers? Ipo edhukku di?” (Why now?)”

“For your hair”, Sheetal spoke before she could think. “Or for the Gods. Whoever gets lucky first.” She didn’t wait for the teacher’s reply, already jumping down and walking towards the vendor. 

Sharini just looked at the retreating figure, a small snort escaping her lips as she shook her head with a smile. She turned the scooter to follow behind, mumbling something about Sheetal being impossible.

“Akka, malli poo evalo?” Sheetal was busy inquiring the price, she barely noticed the other girl trailing behind. When Sharini stood close enough, the smell of jasmine stirred something in her. She was so lost in thought, she never noticed even when Sheetal grabbed some money from her pocket and climbed back again, tapping gently on her shoulder, bringing her out of her thoughts. “Polaama? (Shall we go?)”

As they continued to ride home, Sharini spoke. “Amma and Paati used to sit together every evening, doing this”, she murmured. “Sometimes I’ll help. Arranging them two by two, which they would then tie together, till all our fingers smelled like jasmine. Then I would steal a strand and place it on my head, playing with the flowers. Amma would pretend to scold, telling me I wasted it. You know how she is, about offering to God. But then she’d smile when Paati says children are God’s reflection.”

A small pause. “Funny what you miss when you grow up.”

Sheetal just smiled, looking at the flowers in her hand. “Well, then let’s waste a few today”.

At home, the noon light was lazy. The day was still a little gloomy, credits to the rain clouds refusing to scatter away, but it was a nice kind of gloomy. The fan turned slow, scattering the smell of jasmine across the room.

Sheetal was sitting at the table, trying to tie them into a garland. She tried watching youtube videos, and micmicking what she saw, but the thread kept slipping and the flowers kept falling apart. She then resorted to using a needle to poke through the flowers, but the needle refused to behave, and tore them petals apart. 

Sharini laughed at her helpless state and joined her. With practiced rhythm, she picked up the thread between her fingers, jasmine twistnig softly, she smiled as the garland gently took shape. 

Sheetal wanted to learn. And Sharini was more than willing to teach. Their fingers brushed once, then again. They didn’t stop.

When they finished, Sheetal’s garland lay small and uneven. She took it and gently tucked it behind Sharini’s ear.

For a second, silence — just the fan, the faint sound of vessels from another flat. 

Sharini’s eyes met hers; something wordless passed, and then she smiled — light, unguarded. The other garland hung near the god’s photo.  

One last flower stayed on the table, its scent spreading through the quiet house — soft and whole, like a sigh that didn’t hurt anymore. And for the first time in weeks, neither wondered what tomorrow might ask of them.