Mallika: What is forgotten
January 1976
As I open my eyes, I can still feel the impact of Randhir’s words on my body. My body is sore. I close my eyes. Brown shoes beating against glass, and I, in utter darkness, suffocating, knowing death awaits me, the worst kind of death. I am screaming, Ma, I am screaming, Shantamama.
I cannot stop screaming.
‘Beta, it was bad dream. Just bad dream, Beta, perfectly safe you are.’
Madhu Aunty’s arms were around me; my face was buried in her ample bosom.
At last, I let go of Madhu Aunty. I was in Mahima’s room, in Mahima’s bed. I looked up at Randhir and Arnav, who were standing next to my bed with identical looks of shock.
Madhu Aunty was smelling so strongly and so reassuringly of aloo parathas that my rapid heartbeat began to subside.
Why
