Pendulum

Two

The whole day was pretty much silent. I had tried asking my father about the wedding, but all he said was " You will marry him, Firdaus. It is your duty to this family—your dharma."

I left it at that.

I spent most of my formative years with my grandparents, both on the maternal and paternal sides. My parents were too busy trying to figure out how they could run a kingdom, as my grandfather was resigned to bed rest after suffering a terrible heart attack. He wouldn't be able to hold court, which made my father the next in throne. By the time we moved back to Kashmir, I rarely got to see my father and there was no point asking for him. All I got in return, was more time with my mother—sometimes my grandmother who urged me to sit with her as she looked after my grandfather.

"Where is baba?" I would ask. My mother would sigh, before smiling fondly at me, like one would at a toddler demanding a toy. It used to frustrate me to no end. "Your baba is now a king, beti. He needs to lead a kingdom now, and when you grow up you can help him too, but he needs time to learn the ropes from dada and his ministers," she would explain, smoothing my hair down with her fingers. Sometimes I hid behind the walls that led to his chambers, attempting to peek through tiny openings as and when people entered or left the chamber—to see what my father was up to. I'd missed him.

The night I had my first vision of nani's death felt like someone had poured cold water down my spine. I couldn't move, and tears streamed down my face continuously as I tried to recollect as much as I could about where and when nani would die. I ran barefoot to my parents' chambers, unbothered with knocking due to sheer panic—pushing the doors open with all my might to the guards' disbelief as I watched the both of them bolt upright at the sound of the doors opening and their frantic daughter running in. My mother was the first to react—getting up to walk to the foot of their bed so she could run her fingers down the side of my face, worry filling her eyes. "What's wrong?" she whispered as she wiped my tears.

"It's nani."

My mother frowned, unsure of what I was getting at. I half collapsed and sat on the cold marble floor, watching my parents glance at each other with dismay. I was acting like a lunatic but I had to explain everything I had seen to them, and I was so sure they would understand. With every word that came out of my mouth, their eyes narrowed even further with disbelief. "You had a nightmare, beti. Come, let's get you to bed," my mother clarified in her soft soothing voice. On any other day, she would have gotten away with it—I would have allowed her to lead me back to my chamber, but this time I was sure neither understood the gravity of the situation.

I shook my head. "You are not listening!" I screamed. My mother gasped, taking a step back, as I turned to find my father glaring at me. The soft look in his brown eyes had hardened in anger, and part of me wanted to shrink into a corner in fear, but I was overcome with the adrenaline of the vision and my need to get help to my grandmother as soon as possible. "Go back to bed, Firdaus," my father warned. I stood my ground and crossed my arms in defiance, challenging him. I could sense fear rolling off my mother but I wasn't feeding them lies, there was no need for me to feel afraid. He got up, another warning. I meant to take a step back, but I refused to give in. Realisation clicked in his gaze as he understood that I wasn't intimidated by his movements. My father made his way to stand in front of me, taking in deep breaths before I felt a sharp pain blossom across my left cheek.

The resounding smack of skin had left a less than desirable silence, as everyone tried to fathom what had happened. My eyes welled up as the pain set in, and my father glared at me. "You will go back to bed without a word, Firdaus." He looked at my mother and she moved to pull me towards my room. Not a word escaped my mouth, but I knew I was close to declaring my hatred for my father.