N Is For Nakati

chapter i

It wasn't always like this. Or maybe it was, but it's hard to see the bad when you know nothing but clear skies. Back home in India was a paradise, discordant harmony—a distant memory now on the brink of losing itself in the hallows of her mind. She remembered her aunties, Asmita and Anjuli—she was always their favorite but she could hardly tell them apart. They were twins—the only ones in the family, they owned a bakery in Mumbai, and would bring sweets during every occasion and always a little extra for her. Her mother would always politely reject her sisters, but with a glare that said otherwise. Her aunts had told her of the long—standing, unspoken feud between them, something they got over but she never did.

"Why is mama always so mean to you?"

They laugh, almost condescendingly.

"Who knows, she's been that mean since before you were birth, Pika." Pika was her beloved nickname given to her by them during early childhood, she was quite an energetic child with a lot to say. Needless to say before Sai became the "problem child," Priya was the original.

"Yeah," chimed in Anjuli, "Vivi always been the most temperamental out of us all, that's why she was named Vividha." They looked at each other and snickered like schoolgirls. Priya played with her signature silky black braid she would eventually grow to hate. She felt like she crossed a boundary, but she played along to avoid her aunties' habit of taunting.

"That's a pretty name, though." Priya tried to sound calm, as if she didn't understand their humor. It was best not to meddle too much into their shadiness, even if you were just a child rumors would find their way to you. She still adored them, though, as they did her—everyone has their faults. So what?

"Hm," Asmita intensely focused on cutting open a ripe papaya before giving a slice to Anjuli and then Priya. The blade of the knife was so smooth it cut through the juicy fruit like butter. She accepted it readily, but she knew when Asmita halted a conversation, that meant it was over-over.

--

Priya was popular among her peers back home—another thing she missed terribly. Not exactly like kid celebrity status or anything, but she was by no means lonely. Yeah, it was shallow, but the lack of support she had in America only exemplified everything wrong with her. In a group of friends she felt safe, secure—like a cocoon, her true self unseen to those around and even herself. Tuesday afternoons were always reserved for her childhood best friends, Rajani and Saloni—she still thought of them as her best friends, although she couldn't be entirely sure about them since they hadn't spoken in years.

Priya's mother would always prepare their favorite, butter chicken and nann with kaju ki barfi for dessert, in the most beautiful sarees she'd ever seen to this day—fragments of gold intricately placed that would reflect off the springtime sun when she called them in for lunch. She, Rajani, and Saloni loved to play hide and seek in Priya's large backyard, where the lush grass seemed endless and tall shade trees were abundant—able to transport them anywhere their abstract mind's could fathom. Sometimes they'd spend hours gushing over crushes or reading old, usually worn, racy romance novels Saloni had stolen from her older sister's bookshelf. Priya always found herself having a deep emotional attachment to girls, at school and in the novels—she admitted to having a crush on a playmate, Ishani during one of their usual chats.

"Did you see Aryan at school today? He looked so cute, it's unbelievable." Rajani gushed, her pale cheeks coloring themselves red. She typically started these conversations—she was boy fucking crazy.

Saloni grinned, "I did! Yellow is his color, you should talk to him tomorrow. Get to know some things about him girl—what's his sign? You guys might be compatible! Tell him you need help or tutoring or something. Isn't he good at every subject?"