10.3
As Satya approached her house at last, she was grateful that fortune appeared to have been on her side for a change. Ever so quietly, she slotted her key into the lock and let herself in, tiptoeing along the hall before racing up the stairs.
‘Is that you, Sukhbir?’ came her mother’s voice from the kitchen.
‘No, it’s me,’ she replied, only a second before closing the bathroom door behind her.
In there she showered herself under the deliciously warm jets until it ran cold, kneading her hair with masses of shampoo until the last of the colour had wisped down the plughole. She returned to her room only when she had thoroughly dried her skin, darting across the landing half dressed. In her room, she took a fresh clean white shirt from her wardrobe and put her uniform back on, rolling her colour-stained shirt into a ball to hide at the back of her sock drawer. When she had finished drying her long locks, she pushed her fingers through it to untidy it, loosening her tie at the same time. Standing in front of the mirror, she tried to convince herself that it was as if she had just returned from school.
‘What are you watching?’ she asked of her sisters when she joined them in the living room five minutes later, taking her place on the end of the sofa.
She noticed the way they glanced at each other; the way they shook their heads. They were always dismissive of her questions, but something was different this evening. She watched as they seemed to communicate with their eyes and then she began to sink. Somehow, they seemed to know about her secret, she thought, and now she wondered if their gaze had penetrated her soul. Deliberating on their demeanour, she decided not to pursue her question but reverted to silence instead, allowing herself to become absorbed in the programme on the box.
‘Were you having a shower?’ asked her mother when she swanned into the room a few minutes later. ‘Satya,’ she said when her daughter did not reply, ‘I’m asking you a question.’
‘What, me?’ came her retort, although even she knew that her pretence at having been too engrossed in the plot to notice her was unconvincing. ‘No, I just came back from school.’
‘I thought I heard running water,’ said her mother in exasperation. ‘Now there’s no hot water for my pans.’
Satya shrugged her shoulders but did not look at her, staring at the screen all the more intently instead. ‘I don’t know,’ she said finally, shaking her head, watching out of the corner of her eye as her mother pranced away again, muttering something to herself. For a second she breathed a sigh of relief, but her reprieve was short-lived.
‘You were having a shower,’ began Jaspreet as soon as their mother was out of earshot. ‘I heard you. I heard the hairdryer too. You’re hiding something.’
‘No I’m not,’ muttered Satya despondently.
‘Why did you put your uniform back on then?’ asked Meeta. ‘It’s a funny thing to do. It’s not Parents’ Evening tonight, is it?’
‘You must’ve just heard the rain,’ said Satya hurriedly, ‘that’s why I was drying my hair. Didn’t you see the rain? It poured it down. You were too engrossed in Neighbours, probably.’
Jaspreet and Meeta looked at each other, unsure of her story. ‘You know Sukhbir reckoned you skipped school today,’ snarled Jaspreet, leaning forwards a few moments later. ‘He was looking for you during the day, but he couldn’t find you anywhere. None of your friends seemed to remember seeing you in any of your classes either. You were supposed to get a birthday beating today. We were all so disappointed. You were going to get seventeen bumps, seventeen thumps and seventeen eggs smashed on your head.’
Satya balked. ‘Well… Maybe,’ she stuttered, ‘maybe that’s why he couldn’t find me. Wouldn’t you hide?’
‘You didn’t need to miss lessons though, did you? He wouldn’t get you in there, would he?’
‘Well who said I missed lessons? Just because my friends don’t remember seeing me, it doesn’t mean I wasn’t there. Maybe I was late and sat at the back. You know, people don’t watch everything I do.’
‘Oh yes they do’ sniggered her sister. ‘You’re the talk of the school at the moment. You and that boy.’
‘What boy?’
‘Oh, you know. The one you told mum you were helping out. What was his name again? Dan something?’
‘Ben,’ interjected Meeta, giggling.
‘Yeah, he’s the one. It’s a bit of a joke, actually. Apparently, he has a reputation. They say he’s a nerd. That’s what I heard.’
‘Yes Satya,’ said Meeta, ‘everyone’s laughing at you because of him. Because you’re hanging around with him.’
‘Everyone, that is, except Sukhbir,’ added Jaspreet. ‘He’s not laughing about it at all. He thought you were with him. He’s gone to Dan’s house to find you. I guess he didn’t find you then. That’s a shame.’ Her sisters laughed out loud in unison. ‘So where were you today?’
‘I told you. I was at school the same as you. I got my friends to tell him they hadn’t seen me. Wouldn’t you?’
‘Why didn’t you come home with us then?’
‘Because I thought I’d get an egging,’ bawled Satya, jumping to her feet.
‘There’s always tomorrow,’ laughed Meeta, only to watch as her sister stormed away, her feet thumping back up the stairs. ‘Did we touch a raw nerve?’ she sneered, winking at her middle sister pitilessly.
Another half hour would pass before Sukhbir returned home, fuming through the front door and slamming it shut behind him. His face was a shade darker than usual, cheeks puffed up, perspiration gathered on his forehead. ‘Any sign of Satya?’ he growled, meeting his sisters and his mother in the kitchen, scowling furiously.
‘She’s upstairs in our room, sulking,’ came Jaspreet’s tickled reply, ‘She came in about half an hour after you left.’
‘She says she was hiding from you today because she knew you were going to give her a birthday egging,’ added Meeta quickly, pulling on her brother’s sleeve to prevent him from going to find her.
‘What were you going to do?’ yelped their mother worriedly.
‘It’s just a tradition, mum,’ was his unconcerned retort, ‘It’s nothing serious.’
‘They were going to give Satya a birthday beating,’ explained Meeta.
‘A birthday what?’
‘It’s not as bad as it sounds, mum,’ rejoined Jaspreet, wagging her finger at her little sister. ‘It just means they give her the bumps.’
‘Well no wonder she was staying out of your way,’ said their mother, almost reassured.
‘Only if you believe that story,’ thundered Sukhbir coarsely. ‘And I don’t.’ Absorbing the silence that followed his words, Sukhbir slid beside his mother at the cooker and began lifting the lids on all of the pans, releasing a mist of hot steam. ‘Smells great, mum,’ he said, smiling a little, ‘So are we going to eat or what? Where’s dad?’
‘Do you really need to ask?’ sighed his mother, glancing around at her children, concluding that the time had come to serve up. ‘We were just waiting for you,’ she said, disguising her upset, and she told Meeta to call her sister.
‘Why aren’t you getting changed?’ asked her mother when Satya finally joined them, taking her place at the table, the plates already served.
Satya only shrugged her shoulders. ‘I didn’t feel like it,’ she muttered, lifting her fork.
‘It’s not like you,’ beamed her mother, but Satya did not respond.
From his place across the table from her, Sukhbir scrutinised her face, her posture, her hidden eyes, searching for his final piece of evidence. With every mouthful, he studied her demeanour, listening to the silence fastidiously. As their plates emptied, he examined her intently, analysing the way her jaw moved, the way she ate so slowly, how she gulped it down awkwardly as if she was trying to wish herself away.
‘So how was your day, Satya?’ piped up her mother suddenly, setting her own cutlery aside.
‘Why are you asking me?’ she asked sharply, ‘Why don’t you ask the others?’
‘There’s no need to be defensive,’ she replied, a little hurt, ‘I was just asking because it’s your birthday.’
‘But we don’t celebrate birthdays, do we?’
Her terse retort would induce that painful silence again for a moment, but her mother had grown curious. ‘I heard you escaped your birthday bumps,’ she said quietly.
‘Oh and I suppose you support them now, too. They weren’t just going to give me the bumps.’
‘I know, I heard, Satya. And, no, I don’t support them doing that.’ She stared at her daughter thoughtfully. ‘Why are you being so defensive this evening?’ she asked sensitively.
‘Because,’ said Sukhbir gleefully, pushing his empty plate away from him, ‘she has a guilty conscience. Satya wasn’t at school today, and I can say that with one hundred percent certainty. She wasn’t there.’
Hearing him, Satya pushed her chair backwards, got up and made for the door, but her brother rose too and grabbed hold of her arm. ‘Sit down,’ he barked forcefully without releasing her.
‘Do as he says,’ added her mother irately, ‘Your sisters are still eating. Have some manners.’
Returning to her place, Satya thumped back onto her seat. Her eyes were locked to the tabletop, but all the others were fixed on Sukhbir. From their places, they watched as he reached into his pocket and placed something that belonged to her in the centre of the table. They were puzzled when they saw it.
‘You recognise this, don’t you, Satya?’ he said, fingering the earring protectively. ‘It’s not as shiny as it was. It seems to have paint on it or something.’
‘Explain,’ rumbled their mother, glancing at her son impatiently.
‘I found it at that boy’s house this afternoon. The paint on it was still wet when I found it.’
‘I’m confused,’ said their mother.
‘I haven’t quite worked it out myself,’ replied Sukhbir, nodding his head, ‘but I’m trying to. I’m trying to piece together the strangest pieces. Like, who’s been rummaging around in my wardrobe? I noticed there was an empty hanger on the rail last night. I didn’t think much of it, except that I never touch those horrible suits.’ Everyone glanced at Satya. ‘Like Satya’s strange visit to Dadaji last night with those bags. He says she visited him, but she didn’t leave anything there.’ Their eyes remained on her. ‘And then there’s Satya’s unusual questions. She asked one of my friends if she knew where she could get gulal from. She wouldn’t have mentioned it to me except that I’d been telling her what a bore you are with your obsession with being a good little Sikh. She wanted to know if you’d become Hindu now. You can imagine my surprise.’ Sukhbir stared at his sister with a mixture of glee, contempt and anger. ‘What exactly has happened to your great Sikh identity, Satya? Last year I was the one who had to grow a beard and wear a turban and start acting like a good little Sikh boy. And now look at you. Running around with a white boy, telling huge great spouting fibs, fighting with your friends and now, to cap it all, this! Holi hai, Satya!’
‘Please explain, Sukhbir,’ said his mother.
‘I don’t know exactly what Satya has been doing today, but she wasn’t at school, that’s for sure. All I know is this: one of those bags she took to Dadaji’s last night was at that boy’s house this afternoon. I have it in my car. I don’t know what had been in it, because it was empty. When that boy opened the door to me, his face was purple and green. And I’m not talking about bruises. He looked just like a Hindu on Holi, except that I don’t think it’s Holi until Saturday. When I walked into his bathroom, I thought somebody had been murdered. Red, orange and purple splattered all over the place. But there would have had to have been an alien involved too because some of the blood was green. And then there was the wardrobe that seemed to be breathing. They don’t make good strong wardrobes like that anymore, do they? I would’ve had you out in no time if he had crappy flat pack stuff like us.’
Picking up the earring again, Sukhbir rolled it between his forefinger and thumb. ‘It’s just too bad you dropped this,’ he said plainly, fiddling with it. ‘I could’ve explained away the breathing wardrobe. After all, we all know that Narnia lies at the back of someone’s closet. But this. This beautiful earring. How careless. They’re your favourite, aren’t they? What would Dadaji say? Is that how you treat Dadi’s treasures?’ He laughed at her for a second. ‘You must’ve looked so fine, Satya. Is that how it was? An Indian princess for your beloved?’ It was laughter tinged with hatred. ‘Holi hai, Satya,’ he roared.
‘Why don’t you tell us what you’ve been up to, Satya?’ shouted her mother all of a sudden.
‘I have nothing to say,’ she muttered back, burying her eyes even deeper in the woodwork.
‘You better have something to say,’ screamed her mother, surprising all of them, ‘because I’m calling your dad right now. You can explain it to him.’ Satya began to cry again, but nobody cared. ‘No wonder you were so keen on having a shower when you came home,’ her mother yelled.
‘Oh no,’ snorted Jaspreet, ‘that was just the rain. Just our imagination. Only, the pavement is dry. No raindrops on Sukhbir’s car.’ She gawked at her sister across the table. ‘You’re a liar, Satya. You said you didn’t have a shower. We all knew you did.’
‘I’m waiting,’ interrupted their mother. ‘Start talking.’
‘Come on, Satya,’ added Jaspreet, ‘tell us how Sukhbir’s got it completely wrong. Tell us he’s just being spiteful. Tell us Sukhbir’s a liar. Tell us what really happened today. Tell us.’
It was a lost cause, for Meeta was suddenly in hysterics, pointing into Satya’s ear. ‘What can she say when she has paint in her ear?’ she giggled, and her mother leapt up to take a look.
Before them, their mother started pushing her fingers through her daughter’s hair, examining her roots. Yes, some of that stubborn colouring lingered on, standing witness against her. ‘Go Up To Your Room Now!’ she shouted at the top of her voice, thrusting her head sideways. ‘Just you wait until your dad gets home,’ she cried. ‘Get Out Of My Sight!’ she screamed, watching as Satya scampered from the room in tears.
