Talk of the Town

03 //

The thing about Chennai is that no matter which time of the day, you will hear the buzz and rush of a crowd, the annoying horns from the impatient vehicles in the traffic, and see the swirling dust and familiar pollution. But this pertains only to the centre of the city.

Miraya loves to take a walk along Elliot's beach in the evening, drinking in the beautiful sunset and the soothing ebb and flow of the waves. And now, she walks barefoot in the sand, her skin relishing the delicious grind of sand against her feet. Past her, an old man with his granddaughter walks by, throwing his head back as he laughs at how the little girl skips with her red balloon. Just across them a couple sit together, their bodies propped on their elbows, half-sunk into the sand, as they talk and laugh. Once in a while, the woman turns and watches the man talk, smiling to herself.

Miraya lowers her head, watching her feet dip in and out of the sand. However many times she denies it, the truth is that she aches for love. A love like the couple on the beach. Genuine, simple and meaningful. Nothing extravagant or impossible. Just a walk on the beach with the man she loves, their hands intertwined as their faces reflect the pinkish glow of the sunset. A shoulder to lean on. An arm to catch her when she stumbles. An ear to listen to her worries and excitements.

She drops her sandals on the sand like an anchor and sits next to it, her feet stretched and crossed at the ankles. Miraya sighs. Maybe she will never get to feel that kind of love. Maybe her chances of finding something like that had reduced to zero after what happened in school.

Just as she plugs in her earphones in her ears and listens to the first twenty seconds of a song, Amma calls. Her fingers hover over the red side because she simply doesn't have the energy to deal with her. But, if she declines this call, she knows ten more will follow. She will only be giving an opportunity to Amma to make her day even difficult to get through.

Swiping the green side, she says, "Hello."

"Were you busy? What took you so long to answer?"

"I was searching for my phone in my bag. It took a while. What are you doing, Ma?"

Lying was natural when it came to conversations with Amma.

"Your Appa wanted Chapati and cauliflower gravy for dinner. So before I start making them, I thought I'll call you and ask if you wanted to join us. It's been awhile since you came home."

Miraya presses her eyes close. "I know. But work has been really tight and I'll only become busier because of next month's issue. I'll see if I can find time and let you know. How is Appa?"

"He is the usual. Comes home at seven and he is so tired he falls asleep right after he's had his dinner," Amma says, the clinking sound of cutlery echoing in the background. "So, where are you?"

"In the balcony." Another lie again. See how flawless it is? It took Miraya years to perfect the art.

Amma thinks the balcony of her and Dakshina's apartment is her favourite place in the world. The balcony is so full of Dakshina's plants that there is barely any place to stand. Her mother doesn't know that.

"How is Dakshina? She is not bringing men to your apartment anymore, right?"

Miraya rolls her eyes. "Ma, she can bring whoever she wants. It's her apartment too. I can't control that."

"I hate that girl. She'll spoil you also."

"I can't have this conversation right now, Ma. Bye." With that, she hangs up and lies back down on the sand, closing her eyes.