When a river flows, it doesn’t just flow. It’s not that easy. It must break and buckle and bend to fit its environment.
Each time it does this, it gains a new crack, collects a little more sediment, draws in another water source.
At some point, it all becomes too much. The river trips over its feet in its haste to keep up. The forces build, gushing and gurgling until they cannot take it anymore.
You were trekking down the path of calm waters. At some point, you blinked and they turned into rapids.
Pallavi lays out the plates, laden with chicken pulao with cucumber raita drizzled over top. Tonight, each dish comes with a specialty side dish, her famous homemade kheer, because it’s her daughter’s favorite, and she’s coming home to visit for winter break.
Gaurav stumbles in, loosening his tie while fresh, crisp leaves tumble off his coat into the doorway. Like clockwork, Pallavi is ready with a broom, sweeping them out onto the road.
Her husband offers her a sheepish smile, like he does every day. He shakes his whole body like a dog to rid himself of some of the rain. “Sorry, dear.”
Like she does every day, Pallavi merely smiles back and heads into the kitchen to tidy up. She wipes down the counters and collects the pots and pans, depositing them in the sink, and running a little water. She checks the fridge to take stock of their groceries.
The drawers are chock full of her daughter’s favorite veggies–cauliflower, spinach, potatoes, onions. There’s a fresh box of laddoos in the freezer because she likes to munch on them while she works. There are leftovers from last night’s dinner, enough to serve everyone, but that simply isn’t good enough for her darling, her jaan.
The thought of her daughter’s arrival lights Pallavi up anew with energy, like a river rushing in to fill a once-empty lake. Everything has to be perfect.
Lalitha dashes into the room, wrapping her little arms around her mother’s waist and squeezing as hard as she can.
“Oh, my baby!” Lalitha’s anklets jingle and clink together as she is lifted into the bosom of her mother, nestled in her warm embrace. She cups her hands over her mouth and leans up to whisper into Pallavi’s ear.
“Mama, guess what?”
Pallavi whispers back, playing along. “What?”
“I did something, but you can’t tell anyone, okay? It’s a secret!”
Pallavi shifts her grip slightly, eyebrows furrowed. “What did you do?”
“I made a surprise for Didi!” Lalitha giggles, squirming to get out of her mother’s grip. As soon as her feet hit the floor, she shoots off like a boomerang, back in two seconds with a sheet of paper.
She shows it to Pallavi, beaming. On it is a carefully scribbled drawing of their whole family - Pallavi, her husband, and their two daughters standing in between. It resembles a picture they took some time ago, when they moved into their new home, courtesy of Gaurav’s new job.
The Pallavi in the drawing was smiling, but she remembers that day. She had been moving boxes all day, from their old house to the new one. No one had a car in their small village, but some of her friends had lent a hand to get them all set up. Aarushi was away, and Lalitha was too little to help out, so it was up to Pallavi, her friends, and their aching backs.
Gaurav and a couple of his friends were lounging in lawn chairs outside the new house, sipping on beers throughout the day. Lalitha was doodling on the road with some chalk.
At the end of that day, all Pallavi had wanted to do was go to bed. But Gaurav had dragged her in for a picture, plastering the biggest grin on his face while she could do nothing but stand there, his grip tight on her arm.
Cracks and fissures were starting to open up in the riverbed. A perfect way for water to drain.
Pallavi strokes her daughter’s hair. “It is beautiful, Lalitha. I am sure Didi will love it.”
“Will she put it up in her room?”
“Yes, she surely will.”
Lalitha dashes off again. Pallavi can see her rush to sit in her father’s lap in the living room, showing him the drawing. Pallavi does not join them, opting to wait in the kitchen, fiddling with her sari and making sure it looks alright.
In time, the doorbell rings. Pallavi’s and Lalitha’s heads shoot up, eyes wide. Faced with her daughter’s arrival, she feels much like she did 20 years ago, welcoming her newborn to the world.
Gaurav opens the door to the cold, and in steps Aarushi, bundled in a sleek tan coat and woolen burgundy scarf. She sports heeled boots, and a cream jumper paired with a black skirt and tights.
Standing in the doorway adorned with dreamcatchers, she is the picture of modernity.
Joy bubbles up like a geyser, overwhelming Pallavi, and she pushes her husband out of the way, wrapping her baby in a fierce hug. Aarushi laughs, enclosing her mother in strong arms.
“Hi, Ma.”
At least a full minute passes before Gaurav can pull them apart.
Pallavi is bright-eyed, drinking in the sight of her world. She gets right to work, grabbing Aarushi’s suitcases and shoving them over to Gaurav, before taking her daughter by the hand and pulling her in. “Did you eat on the flight, jaan? You must be hungry, dinner is ready. I made your favorite.”
Aarushi is pliant, willingly following along. “Slow down, Ma!” she chuckles. “I just got here.”
Lalitha trails behind them, while Gaurav goes to stash the suitcases. She jumps around, begging for her sister’s attention like a puppy.
“Didi, Didi! How’s college?”
Aarushi ruffles her hair, smiling. Lalitha tries to swat her hands away but it proves futile. “It’s good.”
“How many years do you have left?”
“Two.”
“What’s your favorite class?”
“Evolution of 20th century music.”
“What’s that mean?”
“It’s a class where—”
“Lalitha, enough,” Pallavi scolds, picking her up and placing her in her seat at the dining table. “Didi is tired, you can ask her your questions tomorrow.”
“I’m not tired, Ma,” Aarushi says. Her hands are inching towards the food, but she stops herself. “Where’s Pa?”
“Here, here!” Gaurav calls. He clambers into the room, hauling himself into his chair. “The food looks good, darling!”
Everything is quiet for a minute or two as they take in the dinner. Pallavi joins her hands together in prayer while the rest of her family begins to dig in, before joining them. She doesn’t have much on her plate, just some simple curd rice, but it doesn’t matter.
“How is the food, beta?”
Aarushi pauses from where she’s scarfing down her meal. “Oh, amazing as always, Ma. I cannot tell you how much I’ve missed this,” she gushes.
Pallavi beams. There can be no greater compliment than your children’s praise.
“So,” Gaurav starts. “How’s school been—”
“Aarushi, how’s school been going? Tell me all about it,” Pallavi interrupts. She hasn’t touched her food yet, not wanting to miss a word her daughter says.
“It’s been okay. Things are getting tougher now that it’s my third year, but I’m keeping up,”
“And your friends?” Gaurav asked, still chewing on some chicken.
“They’re good. Ranya is graduating early, you know.”
“That’s great! She’s a great friend, isn’t she?”
Aarushi smiles at her father. “She really is, Pa.”
Then she turns back to her mother. “Oh my goodness, Ma, I have to tell you, I met the coolest person the other day!”
Gaurav opened his mouth to speak, but Pallavi cut him off, her body gravitating to her precious baby. “Who did you meet?”
In her mind, memories of get-togethers and weddings and birthdays float to the surface. Different canals flow through, opening their gates one by one, each giving way to a new story.
Gaurav interrupting her because she was taking too long with her anecdotes.
Gaurav answering for her, telling everyone how he presumed she was doing.
Gaurav talking to her family, asking the questions she wanted to ask.
But Pallavi yearned to hear her daughter’s story; it flooded through, creating a strange new impulse to defy her husband.
“It was in one of my classes, they put us in pairs for an activity, and I was paired with this lovely older lady!”
Lalitha tilts her head. “There are old people in your class?”
“Anyone can go to school, Lalitha! We have so much to learn from the different people we meet!”
“What can you possibly learn from old people?” Lalitha sniffs, turning her nose up.
“Are? Because you know everything, no? Pa, tell her!”
“Lalitha, don’t say that,” Gaurav mumbles, clicking away at his phone.
Aarushi sighs, shaking her head. “Lalitha, if you even knew how great this lady is, you would be begging to meet her. Not only is she going back to school at her age, while earning for herself, but she’s so passionate about her studies and finally has the time to learn! She told me she divorced–”
“Don’t even say that word, Aarushi! It’s bad luck!”
“Come on, Pa, stop being superstitious. So she divorced her husband and she said her whole life opened up. She gets to finish her degree, she shares custody of her kids, and she feels so much more free!”
Pallavi’s gaze doesn’t leave her plate. “That was wrong of her, to leave her family.”
Aarushi’s soft voice cuts in through the tension. “It wasn’t wrong, Ma. She needed to do it.”
“But why? Why did she need to do it?”
The sky is beginning to darken, the ink settling in waves, outside their modest home.
“She didn’t feel any love for him, she said. She never did.”
Lalitha interjects again, rivers of sickly sweet sugar oozing out with each word. “She never did? I thought all girls fell in love!”
“Some girls never do, Lalitha. And that’s ok.” Aarushi studies Pallavi carefully, as she has always done.
Gaurav clears his throat. “You know, Lalitha, you don’t have to–”
“Oof, Pa, don’t shield her from these things.” Aarushi whines, throwing herself back against her chair dramatically. “She needs to know!”
Then her gaze snaps right back to the other woman.
“What did her family say?” Pallavi’s grip on her sari tightens.
“Her family supported her.”
Around the house, the pounding of rain is harsher than ever. It bares its teeth at the village, challenging its inhabitants.
“And what if they don’t?”
Leaden clouds drift in, concealing everything with smoky fog and silver sheets of water until it is just Pallavi and Aarushi, Aarushi and Pallavi. “Then her daughter always will.”
A tinkling bell interrupts them, and Gaurav wanders away to take a call from work. In the dining room, Aarushi reaches across the table to take her mother’s hand.
“Always.”
Lalitha glances between them, spoon halfway into her mouth. Her attention quickly shifts elsewhere. Craving attention, she stretches her hand out towards her mother. “Mama, look at me!”
Pallavi holds both her daughters’ hands, holds them close. Their joined hands create their bond anew, like a river forging a new path. “I’m looking, my darling. Only at you.”