The Ungrateful Daughter

CHAPTER ONE

As I hopped down from the bus, my feet landing on the road with a thud, I heard my stomach grumble. It had been grumbling loudly since the Chemistry period and the thought of Ammi’s hot chai and snacks only made it worse. The ten-minute long walk from the bus stop was enjoyable as long as I wasn’t hungry. But this day, I was hungrier than usual. A slight Kerala breeze brought the smell of hot vadas being made at Mathews chettan’s street side stall nearby. Debating whether or not to get lured by it, I walked forward.

The furniture shop painted in grey, the pottery seller who never looked up from his phone, the car showroom that had something written in German (I guess) on its board that nobody inside or outside the showroom could read... The scenes unfurled the same way they did every single day. But there was something that I didn’t want to be the same.

As I approached the hotel, I heard my heart racing wildly. And like the past two days, the watchman of the hotel walked towards me with a wide grin. Oh no.

“How was today’s class?” he enquired.

“Good,” I muttered, my eyes darting everywhere.

“So, are you alone?” Hadn’t he asked the same question the previous day?

“Umm... yes,” I answered tentatively.

“You walk alone every day?” His smile widened and as I watched him, fear kicked in. It’s weird how something as beautiful as a smile can be so creepy.

I nodded in response and hugged my black scarf closer to my body. In the silence that followed, he kept smiling and gazing at me intensely. On an impulse, I walked forward and didn’t look back even though I heard him say something.

The grumbling in my stomach had stopped. I didn’t even spare Mathews chettan’s stall a glance. I wanted to run but no matter how much I urged myself, my feet kept trudging at a slow pace, the fear still lingering in me.

Just like the last two days, I didn’t speak much to Ammi over chai. And just like the last two days, she didn’t notice it either. I bolted my bedroom door, pulled away the scarf from my head, letting my short, wavy, black hair fall softly on my shoulders. My bag slid from my long, thin arms and landed on the floor with a soft thud. The narrow, black eyes I had inherited from Ammi caught my reflection in the mirror to my right. And that was when my breathing became normal. No, nothing had happened but the episode was still fresh in my mind. My dark, dry lips failed to form a smile as I stood staring at the mirror.

His bulging eyes and creepy smile loomed over me. He was so near, he could grab me any moment now.

“Are you alone, baby?” His voice boomed and I woke up sweating. The third time that night. I sat upright in bed until my breathing turned to normal again and plopped back onto the bed. I had to do something about that guy. But what? He was probably nearing forty and I was only fourteen. What could I possibly do?

~

Past the grey furniture shop, pottery seller and car showroom. And the fear started to kick in again, on the fourth day. But this time, I was angrier than I was afraid. Just as expected, he walked towards me, his toothy grin in place. And this time, he was different too.

“Hey there,” he called. I didn’t stop but he caught up anyway.

“Why are you in such a hurry today?” he asked, partly blocking my way. I forced myself to look into his eyes and saw something eerie in them. His eyes travelled all over me, the grin playing on his lips turning nastier with each second.

“Something’s protruding,” he said. I shot an angry, confused frown at him.

“Beneath your neck. On your chest. Something’s protruding there,” he leered. Fear and anger battled within me and the latter won easily as I processed what he had meant. The pounding in my chest grew louder until it blocked out the honking of every vehicle.

 “And there’s something sagging between your legs. Take care or someone might chop it off,” I spat out venomously, making him freeze. My heart still thundering inside, I walked away.

I pressed the doorbell long and hard. And when Ammi opened the door and saw me, she instantly knew that something was wrong. I stormed inside and threw my bag on the floor, shouting, “Who the hell does he think he is? Did he expect me to cry? Oh yeah. Fat chance.”

Ammi closed the door and faced me, horrified. “What’s wrong?” she asked,

“A bastard in the street. He said – he said something’s protruding on my chest,” I said in utter disgust. My mother’s eyes widened in horror and I heard a door open. Must be Ryan, I thought.

“I told him to take care of his balls lest someone might chop them off.”

Ammi’s response angered me more than that man. “Why did you say that?”

I turned to face her properly, my eyes narrowing in anger. “What else should I have done?”

“He could have hurt you.”

“He could have hurt me anyway. But I’m not letting anyone get away with hurting me.”

“You’re only fourteen.”

“Doesn’t mean they can hurt me. I’m my own before I’m anybody else’s.” The last sentence angered my mother. She flared up in an instant.

“Renah! Are you growing up to be like her?” She spat out the last word, her voice trembling.

“NO!” I retorted, shaking my head. I never got along well with Ammi anyway. “Wait till Abba hears of this,” I added and from the look on her face, I guessed it irritated her even more, but she didn’t speak.

~

I trudged to my room, washed and got dressed, trying to sort out my cluttered thoughts. But what she had said kept nagging me. Growing up to be like her. Her.

This wasn’t the first time I had heard that. The first was when I was ten.

It was a lazy Sunday afternoon and Ammi was oiling my hair. My outstretched hands were making shapes in the air, slightly blocking the sunlight pouring in through the open window to our right.

“Ammi, what is the point of life?”

“What?”

“We are born one day. And we’ll die on another day. What’s the point of all this?”

“What makes you ask that?”

“I don’t know. What if I want a different life, Ammi? What if I wanted to be born in America?”

“Is this what they teach you in school?”

“Is your life the way you wanted it to be? Do you enjoy it or have you just settled for it?” I asked, turning to face her. And to my horror, I saw that she was angry.

“Understand this right now. These thoughts will slowly grow into bad ideas and ruin you like your sister got ruined. Abandon such thoughts and focus on your studies. Do not think beyond your age.” Her voice was stern and angry.

Ever since that episode, I had yearned to know what my sister had done that had gone so terribly wrong that everyone hates her so much.