CHAPTER 7: Sweeping Under Rugs
An Underprivileged Teen’s Perspective
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Naina sighed as she finished grinding up the chai masala. Her palms were sweaty today. She wasn’t the best at making chai, and the voices of her employers arguing outside on the verandah, like the sounds of clanging pots, did nothing to help; she HATED loud noises. They turned off her thoughts and put her on edge. She looked down and added two spoons of sugar. The crystal structure of sugar always fascinated her. It was so white… except for some reason, it looked…pinkish? Sugar isn’t pink! Unless it was… she licked the spoon… ROCK SALT! Oh no…. She frantically tried to undo her mistake by heaping sugar into the pestle. It was still salty, but it was bearable. Bhaiya*, being very absent-minded, would hopefully not notice. Didi*, however, might. And if she did…? She ruled with an iron fist.
*Didi means elder sister in Hindi. It’s used in somewhat the same way as Ma’am. Similarly, Bhaiya means brother and is used to refer to Ramesh.
Naina pulled out the milk. She began heating water as she tried to latch onto the snippets of Tamil and English she’d learnt from Ayesha. The clanging of their voices became more like clashing swords. The fight sounded like a free-for-all, which was rare because Bhaiya and Didi always united against Ayesha. Now Bhaiya seemed to be fighting both ways? She could hear screeching and screaming and… crying? Kya hua??* Did Ayesha get hurt?? It was hard to make out because they kept switching languages. Haye!!** Ayesha got cut??
* “What happened???”
** Oh no! / Oh god!
If she just relaxed and talked to her parents, she would be fine, but she was always in her room doing God knows what. Ayesha kept saying she was studying, but Naina just heard Bhaiya yell: “Your grades are sinking to the bottom of the Pacific Ocean!” She missed the days when Ayesha would chat with her and tell her things about her school and her friends. She doesn't even say goodbye to me anymore. What is going on with her? She heard them mention something called Therapy or something. She remembered some NGO showed up at her village a few months back, giving talks and offering this therapy whatever. Everyone listened to the talks (because of the free pakoras and chai ). Nobody actually showed up for the therapy.
She wandered down a meandering memory lane about a girl in her neighbourhood. She was at the top of the class, so ahead of the curve that the curve became a sphere. She fell behind on school work, and plummeting grades soon followed. She would disappear for days on end without saying a word to anyone. Her mind echoed back the whispers in the streets about a girl going crazy. One day she and her family disappeared entirely. Wonder if she's okay. Naina thought.
She got shaken out of her trance by the hissing noise of the tea boiling over. She quickly turned off the gas, pulled out three cups, and poured out the tea. The heated conversation calmed down as the scathing-hot liquid cooled against the wind and cold porcelain. She took the tea outside as Ayesha stormed off yelling: “You guys will never understand!”
“What do we do now? She is not listening,” asked Bhaiya.
“We need to take it slow Ramesh. After brushing off her problems all these years, we can’t expect her to just open up and listen. It's important we first listen to her instead of giving mindless gyaan*.”
* unsolicited advice
A series of questions flooded Naina’s mind.
Why is Ayesha upset? She has money and books and clothes and everything she wants. What more could she need? It's not like she’s forced to skip school and work so her brother gets to go to school and her family gets to not sleep on an empty stomach. Her dad doesn’t come home drunk and abuse his family every night. If anyone from Naina’s village said they had ‘depression,’ they would be laughed at and called crazy. At least Ayehsa’s parents are trying.
“Haan,* you're right, I suppose. Oh God! I never thought I'd have to deal with these mental health problems! How did we end up here? Where did we fail her?” Said Bhaiya, slightly frustrated.
*Haan = yes/yeah in Hindi
Naina gasped inwardly as she placed their cups of tea on little tables by their chairs. Her ears had latched on to that one word. Mental. Paagal*. She didn’t understand all the words. But, she heard Ayesha and mental in one sentence. That couldn’t be good.
*Paagal = crazy/mad in Hindi
Mental! Is Ayesha mental? But she looks fine. Is that the cause of her tumbling grades?? What will people think? Unless ‘Mental Health Problems’ is different from just ‘Mental.’ She vaguely remembered something like that from the NGO talk. She decided she would resolve this linguistic conundrum at another time. She swerved her attention back to chores. She now had to sweep the house.
“We gave her everything! Where did we go wrong?” continued a now sentimental Bhaiya, not even casting so much as a glance at Naina.
“No point in blaming ourselves, Ramesh! Let’s listen to the counsellor. Let’s listen to Ayesha. Let’s get her help. Let’s start afresh. With love, patience, medication, and whatever it takes, we WILL help her get better,'' Didi said.
Ramesh nodded thoughtfully.
Naina went back indoors, picked up the rugs, dusted them, and started sweeping.
FIN
(kinda)
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