Royampuram
"This is the final sweets."
I dust off my hands when the basket is finally empty, brushing away the tiny crumbs and traces of sugar stuck to my fingers. I turn to Niti Selvam, my bestest friend.
She looks into the empty basket and smiles, her eyes glistening with excitement. She has dark, wavy, shoulder-length hair, with a wide smile that makes her whole face brighten.
"Yes, Ms. Tara Jiven! Finally, I'm going to taste your grandma's pani puri."
Niti claps her hands excitedly, her eyes practically lighting up. She runs her tongue over her lips, already imagining the tangy pani and crispy puri, as though she can taste it before even getting a single bite.
"Don't get too happy about the pani puri."
Janani Pandey playfully hits the back of Niti's head.
"First, help me wash the dishes."
Grandma snatches the basket away from my hand before Niti can even argue.
Me, Grandma, and Niti run a small sweet shop. Actually, Janani isn't my grandma, but Niti's. She has always treated me like her own grandchild.
When Niti and my parents died in a car accident, Janani became our world—our guardian, teacher, and best friend.
A chuckle escapes from my lips.
And sometimes, an enemy too!
It depends on how she behaves.
Once we get into our home, we step into our small and cozy space. There's just an old TV sitting in one corner, wooden chairs that have grown familiar with years of use, and two rooms. The walls are simple, the space is cramped, and there's nothing luxurious about it.
It isn't big or spacious, but it's worth more than millions.
It's home.
I place the key on the drawer and grab the towel before getting into the washroom for a quick shower. My kurti is soaked in sweat, the fabric clinging uncomfortably to my skin after we spent the day standing in the scorching heat just to deliver our order safely.
The water slowly runs over my body, washing away the sticky sweat and exhaustion. My muscles begin to relax beneath the warm stream.
I slowly shut my eyes.
For a moment, everything is quiet.
Then—
BANG!
I snap my eyes open in horror at the sound of the door slamming open.
"Tara, look at this!"
Niti enters the bathroom while holding the laptop open in her hand.
My eyes widen.
I immediately grab the towel, cover myself, and clench my jaw.
"Niti, have some manners!"
She completely ignores my warning as if she didn't hear me at all and thrusts the laptop screen toward me.
"Girl, look at this! You got a scholarship! It's APPROVED!"
I blink at the screen.
Once.
Twice.
My eyes slowly widen as I tuck the edge of the towel securely around myself before grabbing the laptop from her hands.
I scroll through the page, rereading the words.
Scholarship: APPROVED.
My heart gives a sudden jump.
"Ahhh, finally!"
I scream, unable to hold back the happiness bubbling inside me.
Niti's face breaks into an equally huge smile.
"I'm happy for you."
YSO College—the good college that I've heard about so many times!
I used to hear about it from other students. The same students who would insult me, laugh at me, and mockingly chuckle whenever they said I could never make it there.
Now, I wish I could see their faces.
The thought itself makes the corner of my lips lift.
My eyes slightly tear up with happiness, the words on the laptop becoming a little blurry.
Niti notices.
She smiles and looks me up and down.
"Oh hoi, hot girl! Planning to shower in front of me?"
She blinks playfully.
I roll my eyes so hard it almost hurts, shove the laptop into her hands, and push her out of the bathroom.
"In your dreams."
I shut the door behind her.
A smile remains on my face.
As time passes, me, Niti, and Grandma sit down for dinner, eating thosai while watching our favourite Shah Rukh Khan movie, Mohabbatein.
The thin, golden edges of the thosai crackle softly between my fingers as I tear off a piece. The warmth of the food spreads through my fingertips.
"So, in two days, you're leaving for Delhi?"
Janani Grandma tears off a piece of thosai and takes a bite.
The living room is filled with the warm smell of freshly made thosai and sambar. The television flickers in front of us, casting changing light across the room, while the movie's song plays softly in the background.
"Yes, Grandma. Uncle Bablo will help me."
Grandma doesn't say anything.
She simply continues eating, her attention fixed on her plate.
Beside me, Niti gives me a mischievous smile.
Absolutely for no reason.
I narrow my eyes at her.
After two days, I finally pack my things in a hurry.
Clothes are folded and stuffed into my bag while Janani and Niti move around me, helping me pack whatever I need. My bag slowly grows heavier as every little thing gets tucked inside.
Outside, Bablo Uncle's old car waits for me.
Its engine makes a strange rattling sound, as though even the car is complaining about the journey.
"Don't forget to call us! Okay?"
Grandma says this as she places the tiffin of food inside my bag, carefully making sure it is secure.
I smile and nod.
"And if you don't like the environment or anything, just come back to me! I'm always here for you."
Niti says this while zipping my bag.
Her fingers pause for a moment on the zipper.
Somehow, her words move me.
An unexplainable feeling rises inside my chest, and my eyes begin to sting.
Before I can say anything, I pull Niti into a hug.
Then I hug Grandma too.
I hold them tightly, perhaps a little longer than usual, because somewhere inside me, I already know that things won't feel the same once I leave.
Finally, I pull away and get into the car.
"Oi, Bablo! Carefully drive the car, or else I'll flip the car!"
Grandma keeps both fists on her waist and warns Bablo Uncle.
Bablo Uncle simply rolls his eyes and gets into the car.
"Haan, okay, old lady! I bet 200 if you really can flip my car."
Bablo Uncle says it in an annoyed voice.
Without warning, Grandma's fist lands in a light slap against his cheek.
"Stop talking too much! Now move."
Uncle Bablo pulls the gear and drives the car.
I turn around and look through the window.
I can see my people.
My trees.
My town.
Everything I know slowly begins fading into the distance.
The familiar streets become smaller behind us.
My heart clenches, like someone is pulling a balloon forcefully from the inside.
I don't know if this is the right decision or not.
But if I do go there, while studying, I'll work and send money from there. So it won't be too much of a burden for Janani Grandma and Niti.
I let out a sigh and lean back against the seat.
Then Uncle Bablo stops the car at the train station.
"Give me a call once you reach there, okay? My daughter has already arranged a room for you."
Uncle Bablo gets out and helps me take a bag from the car boot.
I smile and nod.
"Sure, Uncle! And thank you so much."
He gives me a faint smile and pats my shoulder before giving me a slight hug.
I wave at him and turn toward the station.
The noise immediately surrounds me.
The sound of the microphone announcing something echoes through the station. People chatter around me, footsteps hurry across the platform, and trains moving on the other platforms produce a deep metallic rumble that vibrates through the ground.
My stomach twists.
I don't know anyone here.
I don't know if I'm really going to do this.
But I've already decided to step out.
I just don't know how I can live without Grandma and Niti.
Niti's every silly banter.
Grandma's nonstop bak bak.
"Do this."
"Do that."
A drop of tear escapes from my eye.
I immediately wipe it away with the back of my hand when a train arrives.
The metal wheels screech against the tracks as the train comes to a stop.
I take my place at the window seat and grip the railing as the train slowly starts moving after three minutes of waiting.
Those three minutes felt like my heart was screaming at me.
Stay.
Or run back to your home now.
But now I can't even run back to my home.
The train picks up speed.
The familiar station begins slipping away behind me.
I stare through the window, watching everything outside blur into streaks.
There are two young women sitting opposite me.
They look tired. Exhausted.
Like they've lost everything.
One rests her head against the window railing, her eyes closed, while the other rests her head on the girl's shoulder.
I look around the train.
Some are tired.
Some are laughing.
Some are singing songs and enjoying themselves with their groups of friends.
Some are sleeping, their heads gently bobbing whenever the train sways.
Some are on calls, speaking softly into their phones.
Everyone seems to be carrying a different story.
One place.
Different people.
Different activities.
It's something you can only see on public transport like this.
For a moment, I simply watch them.
Nobody knows me here.
And I don't know them.
Yet somehow, we're all travelling in the same direction, sharing the same space for a little while.
Sometimes, it feels good.
I don't know why.
But it feels good.