-Anjali-

My mind wandered around the consequences of what I had decided to do. It was obvious I would have to face it, today or tomorrow; what do I lose in putting it aside to deal with later? I pulled the sandwich I had hurriedly put together at home from my backpack. I was careful not to make a sound as I exit the apartment with my camera, a backpack and a satchel. As adventurous as it sounds, my heart was beating rapidly at the fear of being caught before I had made it out of there.

As I sat at the window seat in the train, tiny rain drops hit against the window railing, splitting and splashing on contact. I didn't bother wiping the water off of my face or closing the window. I took my first bite of the sandwich. She was right, I wouldn't survive alone. I couldn't even get a sandwich right, could I? I took another bite and in a couple more bites I had dozed off watching the rain, my head still leaning on the window. When I opened my eyes, I quickly checked maps on the phone to ensure I was out of the state. In what seemed like closing my eyes for five minutes, ten hours of the journey was completed. In another eight, I would be far away from much of what troubled me; at least for a while. 

The sun made its way out of the horizon, the view in the morning was pristine. I washed my face and stood by the door watching the lush green hills as we passed by the town of Kasargode; the orange hue of the sun gave an added lustre to the rain soaked leaves. Almost three hours later, I found myself grabbing the backpack and satchel, waiting for the train to halt. The morning sun was harsh, it was 07:25, most street cafes and tea sellers had only started setting up shops. I decided it was better to take a rikshaw and eat somewhere along the way, but apparently Manjodi, the place I was headed to, was just ten minutes away. The rikshaw pulled up in front of a traditionally styled house with a short flight of narrow stairs beside a main gate.

(Manjodi is a place in Thalassery, a town in Kerala)

"Oh, is this where you stay?" The middle aged auto driver asked without much thought as I made my way out of the rikshaw with my bags. 

"My family lived here years ago", I replied.

"So that would make you Kavya's...", he said almost immediately, catching on. 

"daughter", I said smiling. 

"Oh! How long has it been?", he said in a heavy Kannur slang and continued, "You should have come here often. It's your home as well afterall!" I smiled in response not knowing what to say. 

(Kannur: A district in Kerala that has it's own slang of malayalam)

"Uncle will finish work and meet you in the evening", he pushed the ignition key and took off. Amusing. When did I have an uncle I wasn't aware of? I thought as I raised one brow and smiled. 

I turned around and walked up the stairs, opening the small gate. The creaking noise from the gate made the pigeons eating along the courtyard fly, the sound of their wings fluttering was almost deafening. I shielded my head and  walked past the thulasithara. The varendah had a wooden seating around it with a rocking chair placed beside the main door. The laterite stone walls on the exterior went well with the religious mural painted along the ceiling. Not much had changed from the pictures I had adored for years. There were two outhouses constructed on both sides of the entrance. Designed and polished slabs replaced the sand on the floor. The rest of the two storey house looked just as I had seen it last, when I was 5 or 6. Not much of my memories from back then remained, but I knew for a fact that there was happiness back then.

(Thulasithara: a small structure in front of the house where tulsi plant is grown and worshipped)

"Are you planning on standing there all day?" The voice brought me back from my trail of thoughts. My face lit up in a smile as I saw her. Athulya aunty was my mother's closest friend. So close that the house which was supposed to be passed down through generations was sold to her, someone outside the family. I hugged her as though we have known each other for years. She threw around a few sentences on how I'd grown thin and looked malnourished. 

"I'll make sure you gain some weight before you go back", I laughed and looked around the house as we walked through the central courtyard and headed to the stairs to the end of a narrow corridor to the left. 

"How do you like the house? Haven't I maintained it better than your mom?" 

"Much hasn't changed, but I like it the way it is. You have done a great job", I replied as we turned right from the stairs and headed into another narrow corridor. 

"No breakfast yet I'm guessing? The shops must have been closed right?" I nodded. She walked ahead and opened the door to a small room with a table, a bed and a window with the view of the main gate. 

"That's okay, I'll make you something tasty", she said and pushed the bags into a tiny corner beside the cupboard. 

"I'll tell Ashwathy to bring you some necessities. Oh you didn't meet her yet, right?" She asked as she walked out. 

"Your daughter right? I've only heard" I replied. 

"Freshen up and come out. I'll have the breakfast ready", she walked out. I unpacked my satchel and pulled out the many black shirts and black pants I'd thrown in. I picked the least black among them, "this would do", I reassured to myself and headed to the attached bathroom. Unlike the house which was old, the washroom was a different story. With a bathtub, shower, dressing room and multiple hairdressing equipments, it was the exact opposite to how the room outside looked. I turned on the shower and stepped in, washing myself of the fatigue that had accumulated since yesterday. 

I got out and dried my hair with the towel, aunty had got me as I stood beside the window grills and looked out. The train whistled in a distance, the ravens upon the trees cawed while the cats meowed at the man selling fish on a cycle. The pebbled path beside the house led to a small pond with a tiny sculpture in the middle of it. I let out a laugh at the sight of aunty struggling to lay out the bedsheet on the rope as the wind blew it all over the place. 

I felt a sudden movement behind me and looked at the mirror to my right that reflected the door behind. Partially behind the wall, only half her face seen, she looked at me with what seemed like awe and confusion. I chuckled silently looking down and continued drying my hair. Her lustrous black hair fell down until her waist, which she would tuck behind her ear every few seconds as she watched me. I recognized her from the portrait beside the table at the main door. Ashwathy, the only daughter of the house. I grabbed my backup polaroid camera from the tabletop and clicked, aiming the lens at the mirror. 

"You must be Ashwathy!" She raised her eyebrows and stepped out from behind the wall. She wore a frilled skirt and a loose top. I smiled and handed her the photo that had just appeared. She looked at it puzzled before taking it from me. She tucked another lock of hair behind her ears and smiled stupidly. 

"Anjali", I said and put forward my hand. She bowed her head a little and nodded.

Akward. I pulled my hand back. 

"You didn't dry it properly", she switched the photo to her left hand and moved forward. I froze for a second as she suddenly brought her hands up to my face. 

"Can I?" she asked. 

I nodded and she continued what she was doing by pushing back my damp hair, running the towel through. She was slightly taller than me, her narrow eyes were lined precisely with kajal, the sunlight caused a slight shimmer on her pinkish red lips. I moved back a step and looked away distracting myself from the view. 

"Oh sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. Your hair is so fluffy", I probably looked stupid, she stared at my face for a while until, "Athee", aunty shouted from below the stairs. 

"I had come to call you for breakfast. Come", she smiled and turned around walking to the stairs. I stopped, calmed myself and followed.