ENDLESS TROUBLES
Ever since I caught him snooping on me, I have never been myself. I haven’t slept well for days, haven’t been paying attention to my studies, and always look around to ensure no one is watching me. I always watch over my window to confirm he hasn’t returned. I step out carefully, ensuring he isn’t around, and I have also changed my school schedule and return home early. Luckily, I haven’t spotted him anywhere around after that night. But can he still be watching me without coming to my notice? It is a worry that I am drowned in all the time.
It feels like mourning at home now that Ahmed bhai has left, and everyone sits there sulking, especially Aliza Bhabhi. Ma and Baba miss him and don’t miss a chance to talk to him over the phone. They are either talking about him to each other or talking to him over the phone. They almost have no time for us two girls at home. I often play excuses and stick inside my room to avoid immersing myself in their sorrow. Bhabhi must be feeling lonely, too, but her energy drains me out. We don’t gel because our characters and energies are different, and I would say neither of us is wrong.
Unusually, there is no one in the hall. Bhabhi is in her room, and my parents are upstairs, wasting their time away. The telephone rings, startling me to my senses. I wonder if I should pick it up because it’s always Ahmed bhai or some relative my parents would want to talk to. I have no interest in initiating a conversation with any of them. So, I wait till the call goes off for someone else to pick it up. But no one enters the frame yet. The ringing settles but returns sooner making me heave a deep sigh.
“Arey Sara, why can’t you answer the phone? What are you waiting for?” Ma asks, coming down the stairs and holding onto her chest. There is no sign of life in Bhabhi’s room. I ask Ma to slow down and saunter my way to the phone. I pick it up and press the receiver against my ears. It is still. There is no sound on the other side. I wait. Still nothing.
“Hello,” I finally say.
“Hello,” I hear back.
“Who is this?” I ask reluctantly.
“Sara?” The voice asks, cold and sharp like it can shred anything that comes its way.
“Yes. And this is?” I ask again. All the while Ma looks at me with her brows raised, waiting at the middle of the stairs.
“Thank God, Sara. You picked. Don’t you recognise me?” He goes again.
“No. Please tell me who this is?” I ask again, this time with a stern voice.
“Make a guess,” he says.
“What nonsense? Tell me who this is, or I will hang up. I don’t have time for this stupidity…” I say and retrieve the phone from my ears.
“Hello, hello, hello! Don’t hang up,” he says, and I don’t know why I stop again.
“This is Salim. Can I talk to you for a second?” he asks, and I feel my heart thumping loud in my chest. I gasp and stare at my Ma, terrified. How did he get my number? First, he comes around on my house, and now this. The audacity! I smash the receiver hard on the desk and jog towards Ma.
“Who was it? Why are you so angry with the phone?” Ma asks.
“Wrong number,” I say, rushing past her to the terrace.
“You were talking to a wrong number for so long?” She whispers to herself.
“Yeah, is that a crime now? You should have picked it up yourself instead,” I scream and move on. She lugs behind me, cursing the caller for ruining her time.
This is a part of BlogchatterA2Z 2025
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The tension you describe with Sara's fear of being watched is so palpable; I could feel her anxiety through your words. The family dynamics, especially with Ahmed bhai's departure and the resulting void, add such depth to the narrative. The phone call scene had me on edge—I was right there with Sara, feeling her dread as she realized it was Salim. Your portrayal of Ma's concern and Sara's evasiveness adds layers to their relationship. The way you capture the complexity of emotions in such a short piece is impressive
ReplyDeleteMy mind raced back to the time Indian cinema portrayed such acts as romantic and the mark of 'a persistent lover'. Your narration shows what it truly feels like to be subjected to such nonsense.
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