Tag: novelwriting

Every Thing We Are is a coming of age novel where Samyukta aka Sam learns that every thing we are is not always on display. This is my first attempt at writing a novel. I started this project as part of #NaNoWriMo2020 before I fell off the wagon. Hope you will read along as I get back to writing it. All episodes of this series are available on the ETWA page. Subscribe to my writing here.

Meanwhile, Chanchal was feeling very accomplished at the end of her call with Sam. She was a woman making her own decisions. She had no choice but to make that call. That little girl had to know that she was not alone.  

In the evening, Siddu came home from work, angry. 

“Did you speak to my sister today?” Chanchal knew from his tone that this conversation would be a towering concrete wall to scale.

“Yes”, she warmed herself up.

“What did you say to her?” he was egging her on to take the leap.

“Whatever you asked me to”, she said with conviction, centering her focus for the run up.

“Are you sure? Did you tell her that she just needs to hang in there till she turns 18?” he provided just the momentum he needed.

Chanchal thought back to her call and realised how naive she had been. She was asking a hostage if the kidnapper was in the room. Obviously Amma was listening to their conversation and obviously Ammu could not tell her so. Though the gravity of the situation dawned on her, she decided to stick to her guns.

“Yes I did. And it’s true. You know that she is free once she is 18, right? I am so tired of your liberal facade.” she said accusing him of being two-faced.

“What do you want me to say? I’ll say it anywhere. Yes, I don’t mind anyone else being gay. But not my sister.” Siddu accepted graciously. Chanchal looked around her to an invisible audience, as if to say, see, didn’t I tell you so? 

“I will not have you or her bring down my family’s name.” This was not a new line of argument. It was one of his favourites in fact.

“I am trying to understand you here. What about this is bringing your family name down? Is it the sex? Then what about your ex-girlfriends then? How are they glorifying your family name?” Chanchal asked with as much earnestness as she could gather.

“What?” Siddu was truly unable to compute what his wife was saying. He felt that familiar urge again—to slap her across her brusque, loudmouthed face.

He felt that familiar urge again—to slap her across her brusque, loudmouthed face.

“If she is not allowed to have a girlfriend, how come you’ve had ‘so many’—your words, not mine?” she continued her line of questioning.

“Because I am a man. There, I said it. Happy? I am a man, and I know what to do with my freedom.” he said, trying to distract himself from the urge.

“What makes you think women don’t know what to do with their freedom?”

“First of all, Ammu is a child. Then, women are not brought up with the same kind of exposure as men.” he said triumphantly, suggesting that he had won the argument.

“Well, whose fault is that?” she rolled her eyes and looked around.

“Anyway none of this matters. I am not letting you mess with her future. I told you already that you can go back to your parents and do all this there.” he changed tack.

“Oh yes! You did. Because I am here only as part of your luggage and I can be sent back whenever you so please!” she said, her words dripping with sarcasm.

This time around, she was going to stand her ground. Why should she be the one to storm out of home. That too into that miserable weather outside? She was going to stay at home and ignore him.

She could ignore him but not her marriage. She didn’t know how her parents would react if she said she was having second thoughts about her marriage. Also when is it okay to ask for a separation. Is it as simple as ‘when you don’t want to live with the other person’? When does that moment arise? Is it when they leave dirty clothes on the bed everyday for two years and three months despite daily reminders? Or is it when they have fundamentally different views of the world? Why aren’t we taught all this in school?

Thinking through this was difficult. On the one hand, he didn’t hit her. Her in-laws treated her like their daughter. He didn’t have a problem with her working. He didn’t have a drinking problem. He wasn’t hell bent on having a boy child. It could have been so much worse. But then again, the bar is so low for men in a marriage. Siddu expected her to tow the line. To stay within the bounds of his worldview. If she disagreed with him, it made him mad. If she suggested a different point of view, he would scoff at it. What was the tolerance threshold for these traits? How much was acceptable? She was brought up as a girl and not a person to be able to make such decisions. 

She was brought up as a girl and not a person to be able to make such decisions. 

Whether in the UK or in Uruguay, for a literate and enlightened community, Keralites were probably the most regressive when it came to marriage and family status. She imagined a group of her father’s sisters and sisters-in-law sitting around at the next wedding in the family, talking about her failed marriage.

“Did you hear why Chinnu got divorced?” Kavitha the broadcaster, began. “I heard their wavelengths didn’t match”, she scoffed, answering her own question. The others laughed with derision.

“The number of children I had to make, to stoop to his wavelength!” said Shyla about her dead husband, the father of her five children.

“I stoop every night so that we can get through the day”, winked Padma who was famous for exaggeration.

“I know all the crests and troughs of his wavelength”, said Meena, the retired physics teacher trying to sound dirty.

“You mean when wavelength decreases, frequency increases?” Everyone turned to the oldest aunt Sujatha, who no one expected to join in. 

“What about you, Hema?” Sujatha asked the youngest aunt. “Marriage is a dirty business”, she said tilting her shoulder to one side like Mohanlal, appropriating his iconic dialogue about narcotics. The group burst into spontaneous applause and back-patting. Uproarious laughter erupted.

Subscribe to support independent fiction.

Next Chapter|Ch12a: Are Eyes For Seeing?

Every Thing We Are is a coming of age novel where Samyukta aka Sam learns that every thing we are is not always on display. This is my first attempt at writing a novel. I started this project as part of #NaNoWriMo2020 before I fell off the wagon. Hope you will read along as I get back to writing it. All episodes of this series are available on the ETWA page. Subscribe to my writing here.

“Yes, Amma. The shop that Vaithi sir’s nephew suggested is a little far from our house but it does have curry leaves. Yes, we made the trip last week. Yes, and peas parippu. No, I know. It’s different from kadala parippu. Yes, I got some last time. Yes, for making his favourite parippuvada. In English, I don’t know. I think it’s called split pea maybe. Hmm, what else? It’s getting colder here. Yes, yes. My coconut oil froze long back. I’m still using the packet Vaithi sir’s nephew brought us from home. I’ve put it in a wide jar so I can scoop it out like you do from your Bournvita glass jar. Yes, very convenient.” Chanchal said, being agreeable with her mother-in-law.

After three or four volleys of chit-chat, she politely suggested, “Is Ammu there? I dreamt of her last night. Probably because we are talking about her all the time here. Could I speak to her? I just wanted to hear her voice”, Chanchal brought out her ‘most polite’ tone.

“Ammu, are you on speaker?”. 

“No”, said Sam though Sreeja had made her put the phone on speaker.

“Good. I had to speak with Amma for nearly an hour to get to talk to you. I know she’s there so just talk about your exam prep, OK?” Chanchal was being careful.  

“I called to tell you that your brother and I don’t actually agree on how things should be. I didn’t mean any of the things I said the other day. Forget that whole solar system example and that spiel about how no-seventeen-year-old-could-make-it-in-this-world. I am with you—100%. In anything you want to do. I am sorry this is all very confusing for you. I want to help you through this time but it’s hard for me to contact you from here. I can’t support you publicly because Siddu will eat me alive. You know how it is. But don’t worry about anything anyone is saying. You just need to hang in there till you are 18. I have your back. I am here for anything you need. Not publicly. But you know”, Chanchal said in a passionate monologue. 

I have your back. I am here for anything you need. Not publicly. But you know

When they hung up Sreeja took her finger off her lips. Then as still and calm as the mid-afternoon on a workday, Sreeja spoke, “Don’t forget that she is in another country. There is nothing she can do for you from there. Don’t even think of acting on her advice.” The menace in her mother’s voice made Sam rue her sister in law’s unsolicited support. It had got her into even more trouble. 

Sam felt like she was floating in a large body of water; in an unending, bottomless limbo. She had had no contact with the outside world for over two weeks now. Her parents barely spoke to her or acknowledged her presence. They had changed the wifi password. If she had to go online, her mother would key in the password and then sit with her the whole while she accessed the Internet. There was no sign of her friends. She couldn’t access the Zassy group either. She heard in passing that they had come to the house to try and meet her but her parents had sent them away. It felt like she was drifting, unhinged. Who was that person who was in love with Madhu? That was someone else. Not her. But this person holed up in her room, studying, this is not her either. Neither of them, nor she knew how to disobey her parents. She felt helpless. 

On many nights when she managed to fall asleep, she dreamt of a horse running across a field. Suddenly she was on the horse, the wind in her hair, life embracing her. She closes her eyes to take in the exhilaration of the ride. She had felt it before. Where was that? As that thought derails her, she feels the horse come to a halt. The animal is getting confused, irritated. She opens her eyes to check. It’s pitch dark. It feels like she is in a tube, like a well. She looks up instinctively to see if they have fallen into a well. But there is no light to be seen, no end to this tube. She feels around for the walls of the tube but there are none. 

That’s when she feels her legs on the floor. What about the horse? Where’s the horse? She’s frantic now. She extends her arms now, in search of her ride. But she’s alone in this space. She faces ahead and takes steps out to meet the end of the tube. But the space, it’s walking with her! 

She sits down, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. Time goes by but she still can’t see in the dark. Her thoughts are racing. Does anyone know that she is here? Will she die here? What is this miserable place? She’s breathing hard. Her head is spinning. Suddenly the floor she is sitting on gives way. She wakes up with a start, clutching her table. It’s dark outside. When did she sit down to study? When did she fall asleep?

Add more fiction to your life. Subscribe to fictionhead!

Next Chapter | Ch11b: A Well-meaning Misstep

Every Thing We Are is a coming of age novel where Samyukta aka Sam learns that every thing we are is not always on display. This is my first attempt at writing a novel. I started this project as part of #NaNoWriMo2020 before I fell off the wagon. Hope you will read along as I get back to writing it. All episodes of this series are available on the ETWA page. Subscribe to my writing here.

“Amma, I told you last time also, it’s a very normal thing. It is not something she chose to do. That is the way she is. People say that about me no? That I am not like Selviakka. I am too tall to get married. But what can I do about it?” Semmalar asked drying her hands and rolling out the bedding on the floor where her mother and her slept. Her appa slept on the cot which doubled as seating during the day in their one room house.

“You don’t worry, Chinna. Don’t listen to anybody. I am getting money together. We will find you someone who is taller than you.” Vimala said, stroking Semmalar’s head to reassure her. 

“Well, this is just like that. It’s not something you can change. Anything her parents do other than let her be will only make her life worse”, Semmalar explained.

“Easy to say. Her parents are very worried about her future. She is a good kid. She learnt all this from the TV I think. She watches all these English movies with naked women and kissing. No shame”, Vimala shook her head in disapproval.

“True. Maybe those movies taught her that it’s okay to be who she is. But you cannot change the feeling itself, Amma. It’s as odd as saying that a woman should marry a man. Have you ever wondered why? You for instance, what use is a man to you? He drinks away all our earnings and beats you. Other than that, what purpose does he serve?”, Semmalar asked outright.

“You won’t understand. He is the father of my children. There is no respect for single mothers in our society. But also, this is not right. Man and woman are supposed to be together. How will these people have children?”, Vimala was genuinely concerned.

“They are women. So technically they can give birth. But do you know India’s population? Maybe she doesn’t need to have children. Not everyone needs to have children, you know”, Semmalar knew she was pushing it.

“I can’t win with you, ma. I simply cannot. I couldn’t care less if other people don’t have children but I sure hope you are going to have a chubby boy baby”, she said, just as they heard Anban serenading the street with a Rajini classic, Athanda ithanda arunachalam naanthanda.

They quickly turned off the lights and pretended to be asleep to avoid provoking him. As she lay there praying that she wouldn’t get hit today, she thought once again of what Semmalar had told her the last time they spoke about Ammu. “Amma, think of her as a person. Without the sex. That is her personal matter. Think of her as a 17 year old child whose parents are making her life difficult. Just try Amma. Maybe you are the only one who can see that.” 

It’s certainly not easy for Vimala to think of Ammu as a normal person. But she had told Semmalar she would try. She heard Anban climbing up the stairs to their house making her hypervigilant. Semmalar got up slowly, heading to the back door. But then there was silence. They stayed there, in a midnight mime for a good 15 mins. Once they heard him snoring, they realised that he had fallen asleep by the door. Vimala said a silent prayer of thanks and hugged her daughter close.

“Amma, think of her as a person. Without the sex. That is her personal matter. Think of her as a 17 year old child whose parents are making her life difficult. Just try Amma. Maybe you are the only one who can see that.” 

These thoughts stuck with her until she woke up one day with a sense of purpose. She walked into door number 204 that morning, determined to make the little girl’s life easier. She made Sam her favourite hot chocolate drink and took it to her room.

Sam was stepping out of the bathroom. Her eyes were swollen and red. 

“Why ma, you watched some film in there aa? Why are you crying?” Vimala said jovially. Vimala noticed that Sam’s cheeks were swollen as if she had been slapped.

“I am not crying”, said Sam, as her eyes filled up. She was so grateful that Vimala had noticed. She was feeling more and more invisible with every passing day.

“Dont worry ma, here. I made you your favourite. You can’t say no!” Vimala said placing the drink on the table with a flourish.

“Thank you, Vimala”, Sam said with a dim smile. “I was beginning to feel that no one cares about me anymore”, she confessed.

“What are you saying? I care, ma. Everyone cares. Only, they are a little worried about your future. They will find a solution soon. Don’t worry so much”, Vimala said exuding confidnce.

“Vimala…”, came the call from the omniscient Sreeja. “What is that?” asked Sreeja pointing at the empty glass in Vimala’s hand.

“I made some hot chocolate for Ammu. She was crying so I thought…”, Vimala fumbled.

“Hmm…”, Sreeja cut her off with a gesture to mean ‘enough’.

Vimala followed her into the kitchen with the glass, grabbed the broom from the work area and made herself scarce. Once cleaning was done, she found Sreeja and broached the subject carefully.

“Madam, Ammu was crying in the room.” 

“Hmm…” said Sreeja, not taking the bait.

“God only created her also madam. He must have a plan for her”, Vimala said vaguely.

“Yesterday, didn’t you clean the pressure cooker properly? When I took it out this morning, it was sticky”, Sreeja said ignoring her comments.

“Sorry madam. I will wash it again. And I will be more careful from now on”, Vimala agreed unconditionally. 

“She has her big exams coming up also. Let her study in peace madam. She will have a bright future.” Vimala tried once more. 

“That’s enough, Vimala. I don’t pay you to poke your nose into my business. Just stick to your job”, Sreeja cut her off.

Vimala knew that that was a hard stop for the official channel of communication. This conversation was dead in the water. She was lucky to get out of this with her job intact. She needed to think of a more discreet way to make her point. She made a note to take the next day off just to teach this woman a lesson.

Be more, read more. Subscribe to my fiction!

Next Chapter | Ch 11a: A Well-meaning Misstep

Every Thing We Are is a coming of age novel where Samyukta aka Sam learns that every thing we are is not always on display. This is my first attempt at writing a novel. I started this project as part of #NaNoWriMo2020 before I fell off the wagon. Hope you will read along as I get back to writing it. All episodes of this series are available on the ETWA page. Subscribe to my writing here.

When Vimala heads over to 201—Sudha’s house—that evening, she knows that Sudha will sniff out the details from her. Sudha has been on a hunting expedition since Sreeja spilled the beans to her. No amount of detail seemed to satisfy her. Vimala kept her head down and busied herself avoiding Sudha all evening. But right before she could leave, Sudha cornered her, saying,

“Here Vimala. I made Mysore pak today. Have some.” Sudha offering food was an invitation to chit chat. Vimala took the piece she was offered while Sudha dove right in. “What’s the latest next door?” she asked in a tone of faux friendliness.

Vimala hated being put on the spot like this. “Ammu is so much younger than Siddu, no? So they have pampered her a little bit. She is a good kid. But nothing compared to your Preethi here”, she said pointing to Sudha’s daughter’s room, hoping the nicety would get her off the hook..

“Oh Ammu could do no wrong up until now. What are they saying now?”, Sudha’s allegiances were clear. Vimala would not be leaving anytime soon. “They are very worried, madam”, Vimala knew that this was a vicious cycle. If she said what she really felt, tomorrow Sudha would tell on her to Sreeja.

“Of course, when I once told Sreeja that her daughter is becoming an adult, keep an eye on her, she came this close to saying mind your own business”, Sudha said gesturing with her hands. “Now see what happened?”

“Yes, yes”, Vimala agreed. “I told her the same thing about Ammu wearing shorts and watching bad things on TV. I even told her to look at your daughter madam, so well behaved.” Vimala elaborated in an attempt to end the conversation. 

“Oh, you did?”, Sudha said getting up and walking towards her daughter’s room in a hurry. “Preethi”, she called out mid stride. “Vimala, wash your hands and bring me a plate of camphor from the prayer room. And don’t forget the matchbox.” Sudha called out. 

Vimala did as she was told though she was furious inside. Sudha was going to ward off the evil eye by lighting camphor on fire and circling it around Preethi’s face before throwing it out of the house. Specifically, the evil eye that Vimala had brought upon Preethi by mentioning her good manners to her neighbour. And she was making the same Vimala bring her the ingredients. The good thing was that Vimala was free to leave once she brought her the paraphernalia because there was no way Sudha would perform the ritual in Vimala’s presence. Vimala politely made her way out of there and was still sizzling with anger when she gets home.

Sudha was going to ward off the evil eye by lighting camphor on fire and circling it around Preethi’s face before throwing it out of the house.

Her daughter, Semmalar who was a final year nursing student, was almost done with making dinner by the time Vimala got home. They sat down and ate dinner in a hurry. They had to get all the work out of the way before Semmalar’s father, Anban came home drunk. She prepped for the next day and was ready to slink away to her neighbour’s house if things got violent. She packed a pair of clothes and her books and left them by the back door. She got money from her mother for bus fare.

Vimala was adamant that she would protect her daughter from her husband. Before her older daughter Selvi got married, she used to protect Semmalar from getting hurt. The girls used to hide under the bed or behind the door as soon as he came home. But once, soon after Selvi’s wedding, Semmalar had intervened when Anban hit Vimala. And in his drunken stupor he had raised his hand on Semmalar. Since then Vimala made sure that Semmalar left the house when things got out of hand. 

It was not that much of a hassle. It was only on days when he came back home. On many days, he would be so drunk that he would forget his way home or sleep on the pavement. On other days when he managed to get home, he would be in no position to have a conversation. Those were the good days. The dangerous ones were when he had had just a couple of drinks. Those were usually towards the end of the month when he ran out of money. Then he would be in withdrawal and itching for a fight. 

All this scheduling had long become mechanical. Among all this, mother and daughter did make time for chit chat. First, they ate quickly and efficiently in silence. And once they were done, they began talking about their day while washing up. 

All this scheduling had long become mechanical. Among all this, mother and daughter did make time for chit chat.

“You look angry, Amma. What happened?” Semmalar began. 

“Ah yes, just as I was leaving, 201 madam did something nasty today. I was telling her about the other girl, who likes girls” she said, lowering her voice for the last phrase though they were alone at home.

It’s always a good time to read more. Subscribe to fictionhead for daily fiction!

Next Chapter | Ch10b: Hide and Seek

Every Thing We Are is a coming of age novel where Samyukta aka Sam learns that every thing we are is not always on display. This is my first attempt at writing a novel. I started this project as part of #NaNoWriMo2020 before I fell off the wagon. Hope you will read along as I get back to writing it. All episodes of this series are available on the ETWA page. Subscribe to my writing here.

“Vimala…”, came Sreeja’s call from the kitchen, where she was beginning to prepare dinner while eavesdropping on their conversation. She knew the servant’s place in the family hierarchy. But she also acknowledged that Vimala was a mini her. Vimala was here everyday, taking care of her family pretty much how Sreeja herself did. Vimala was almost a wife. She was also Sreeja’s conscience keeper.

Vimala walked into the kitchen tackling the topic head-on, “Madam, Sunday I am going to muthumari amman kovil to pray for Ammu. Don’t worry madam. Young children, no? Mistakes happen.” Vimala knew very well that no conversation in that house was private. 

“I don’t know, Vimala. Sometimes I think, is it something I did wrong? What could I have done differently to stop this from happening? You’ve seen her since she was a baby. What could I have done differently?” This was a rhetorical question and Vimala knew that. 

“Madam, girls are always a problem. Boy means he will find his own way. But girls, too much problem. We can never sleep properly with a girl in the house. I have two at home no? I know.” Vimala was a soothsayer.

We can never sleep properly with a girl in the house.

Sreeja and Vimala shared a precarious power dynamic. While as employer Sreeja had the appearance of absolute power, Vimala was a treasure trove of family secrets besides being a great employee that the whole family approved of. Over the years, Vimala had taken many liberties that Sreeja had expertly brushed under the carpet in exchange for her exemplary service. When Vimala didn’t agree with a family member’s action, she was taken to dropping hints to let Sreeja know how she really felt.

“Remember, I used to say Ammu is wearing short clothes and going out. She is watching strange things on tv when I am cleaning the room. Then you used to say Vimala, she’s a child. Vimala, mind your own business. All this adds up ma. We have to be very careful while bringing up girls. One wrong step and it’s over.”

This confessional was turning into a game of chess. One had to be careful of how close to the queen one let’s the knight advance. Sreeja decides to nip Vimala’s snide remark in the bud. 

“I know what Ammu needs. But her Papa won’t let me do it. There’s nothing a good caning won’t resolve. It will clear things up much faster than any of us can.” Sreeja said without feeling.

There’s nothing a good caning won’t resolve. It will clear things up much faster than any of us can.

“Abababa Madam, don’t do that. You can say whatever you want to her. Use bad words, shout, threaten. But hitting madam, will crush her soul. You know that my husband hits me on most days. The physical pain is something you can learn to live with. But in your head, it’s very difficult madam. You feel like the world has let you down. It makes you so diffident in life. And there is no coming back from that. It is no way to live.” Vimala pleads with Sreeja.  

“Okay, okay. Talking this and that you have forgotten about the coconut you’re grating. It needs to go into this curry ma. Coconut won’t get hurt. Do faster.” Sreeja reclaims her position.

“Yes, ma. God bless you, ma.” says Vimala avoiding conflict and refocusing on the task at hand.

Two more days to go in The Dog We Stole giveaway! Subscribe below to win:

Next Chapter | Ch10a: Hide and Seek