Tanya Tania (22 page)

My mother is in a strange state of opposites. One day she is resolute and flies around the house taking down pictures and giving instructions and calling movers and the next day she sinks into silence and can't get out of bed. I never know which day it's going to be when I wake up. I'm so glad it's Eid holidays because I can be at home.

No, my parents haven't talked.

Navi has been sent off to stay with my Dadi in Murree. Until…until they figure out what to do? I don't know. I miss Navi. I didn't think it was possible but I do. Even when he wasn't in the house, he was someone else living here other than my father and mother. Now there's just the three of us. It highlights my mother's bouts of frenetic activity and it amplifies my father's continued silence.

I'm pretty deep into my applications. I've sent off Harvard and Stanford. I'm working on the others. I don't suppose I should ask you how yours are going. You're making a big mistake, Tania. This is not just about the next four years, you know, it's the rest of your life. Besides, with everything going on, don't you dream of escaping?

Love,

Tanya

October 20, 1992

Bombay

Dear Tanya,

Don't you get it? For me escaping will be to not go to college in America!

I'm getting scared man. Things are still bad at school. It's been two weeks now. I thought they'd get bored. But they're just getting meaner. I wasn't invited to Soumya's birthday party or Shaival's weekend thing at Marvae. But the meanest thing was I had gone to Cellars with my cousin from Delhi and when we got there everyone from school was there. And they just ignored me. Looked right through me as if I didn't exist. I wanted to cry so badly but I wasn't going to give them the satisfaction. Besides once you show weakness it's over. Permanently. So I just grabbed my cousin's hand and we danced and danced and danced and danced. But every song, every move, I was watching them. I was waiting for them to come to me. But although they looked at me many many times and I know they were wondering who my cousin was, not a single one of them did.

I've grown up with these people. I'm in every picture of every birthday party Soumya has had since she was born. Until the day of her party, I thought she was going to call me. I had imagined how it would be, she would call me in whispers and say I can't talk but obvers you must come ya. And I'd laugh to show no hard feelings and say that I had another party to go to but happy birthday and I'd stop by for some cake.

I got into a fight with Nusrat today because she got all preachy and was like oh these are not real friends. When I told her she didn't understand, she got super huffy and wrote in her notebook that she understands a lot more because she can't speak because all she can do is listen. She's so sensitive man.

Anyway, I had meant to call you but it got super late and I'm damn scared your dad will pick up the phone. He sounds British man. I'll call you tomorrow. Maybe I'll have better news on how things are at school tomorrow.

Love,

T

October 31, 1992

Karachi

Dear Tania,

A boy was killed. Can you believe it? A boy was kidnapped and then killed. The family was putting together the ransom but time had run out and the boy was killed.

He was seventeen years old. His name was Shahid. He had a stammer and he played inter-school squash. He went to St. Mary's School for Boys. He played against Navi last year.

My mother tore the article out in the newspaper and went and banged loudly on my father's door. She stood there in a crumpled nightie with egg stains on the front, greasy hair, trembling lip, eyes red from crying, banging on her husband's door to be heard.

My father wasn't home.

The funeral is tomorrow. The flag flew at half mast in our school today and when I looked around at the different classes all lined up, they seem to have shrunk. Far fewer boys than there used to be. Quite a few of the students were crying. Some of the teachers were crying too. Even the men.

He was seventeen years old. Apparently he was quite the bad boy. Used to do a lot of drugs. He was also applying to go to college in America. Did decently in the SATs—1320. That's 100 more than what Ali got. But Ali is an artistic genius. He doesn't do well on tests.

Navi called today to ask me to send him his cricket bat and soccer cleats. He has found some kind of sports club there. I thought it would feel really good to hear his voice but when I heard it I only felt vastly irritated. I wanted to tell him that there was an update: that Mom had made up her mind, that Chhoti Bibi had passed her exam, that my father was spending more time at home. But I could tell him nothing except that his old squash rival had been killed.

In Assembly today, someone asked loudly how come they don't kidnap girls. It was a Class 8 boy. No one answered him.

Love,

Tanya

November 7, 1992

Bombay

Dear Tania,

Holy crap man. They killed a kid? I mean I know you weren't making all this up but I never thought it would actually happen. That's insane. Good thing your brother has been sent away. Nusrat looked up Murree in the Atlas. It looks far. Of course you miss him.

Anyway, so I have no happy news to cheer you up. Things are really bad. My mom is worse than mad that I don't want to go to college in America. She's like SAD.

She thinks I don't respect her because I don't want to go to her college and I don't want to follow her path. It's not like that. I can't help that I'm made differently. Sammy wants her path. But you know what I realized? She wants me to want her path.

And that made me think. Did Sammy know that? Is that why he is following her path? And how come I don't want to? And what about my dad? Does it make him feel bad that it's all about my mom? He's never once said anything about wanting us to be accountants.

My family is so weird Tanya. All the talking, all the shouting and yet there's so much stuff that's underneath that is never said. Are we all constantly trying to be something else to please someone? And for what?

I wanted my mother to hug me. I was crying and I wanted her to put her arms around me and say it's okay. But she just stood there, leaning against the window. She asked me to leave. I didn't go. She took the car keys and left the house.

Nusrat came and found me and took me to the servant's room which is a balcony to hang wet clothes. She hugged me, she held me, she kissed me. I stayed there for a long time after she left, wrapped in my mom's gold and yellow sari that I pulled down from the clothesline. I wanted to take that wet sari to bed with me, I wanted to wrap it around myself and sleep in it but I didn't because I knew it would make my mom mad.

Nusrat hasn't come all week. There are like a lot of disruptions going on in the city so I guess that's why. Morchas and naka bandis every day. A morcha is when there are lots of people out on the road looking angry and chanting stuff together. A naka bandi is when they stop all the cars on the road. It makes the traffic like insane. The trains have been running late and the teachers have all be coming late to school and leaving early.

Is this what your life is like? Not having people to talk to in school? Not having anyone call you when you get home? Not having someone to call at eleven o'clock at night and go get ice cream with? I'm sorry man. I didn't know.

I still don't know what's going to happen. Is my mom going to allow me to stay in Bombay? Or is she going to pretend like I never said anything and just make me apply anyway? I can totally see that. I can see her coming into my room (without knocking) with another application to another college she hadn't thought of before. And it will be like I had never said anything.

I miss Nusrat. Maybe she will come tomorrow.

Love,

Tania

November 15, 1992

Karachi

Dear Tania,

CHHOTI BIBI FAILED. By 20 marks. She got 55 in the Social Sciences, 60 in Urdu, 30 in English and 12 in Math. TWELVE. Who gets 12 in Math? Is that even a number that is possible to get in an exam? Out of 100?

And believe it or not, she is furious at me for going and getting the marks. She tried to grab it from me but luckily for her, I was able to prevent it. It's locked in my drawer. What is wrong with her? 12 in Math? 30 in English? My face was burning.

And instead of apologising, instead of feeling bad, she's angry with me? She's asking me how I have the right to pick up her marksheet for her? Who didn't even know that the word marksheet existed until a few months ago? Forget about gratitude, she's mad. She's mad.

I was so upset when I saw it, Tania. I really thought she was going to pass (and that I could put it on my remaining applications. This is the sole reason why I haven't sent out my Harvard application yet.) I was going to go buy samosas and kachoris and jalebis and mithai to celebrate. I was going to take her shopping in a mall. I had asked my mother for money for it. My mother had smiled at me and kissed my head. It was one of her ‘I'm leaving and I love it' days.

Anyway, now Chhoti Bibi is acting like I've committed a huge crime. Yes, please forgive me for trying to help you, for trying to give you a better life. It was a terrible, selfish thing to do. I even went to her room to try to talk to her. She was lying on the bed crying. There was nowhere to sit. So I just stood at the door and asked her when she was going to apologise to me. She ignored me. I asked her again, more loudly.

She bounced up on the bed and began to scream in Punjabi and Urdu. I didn't understand all of it but the gist of it was that she had done it all for me and that she had never liked school and she hated studying and she hated exams and I had betrayed her and now she would have to run away and then how would Mohammed go to an English-medium school?

‘Why do you have to run away?'

‘Because they will now come and catch me.'

‘Who?'

She pointed at the window. Outside, the garden was quiet and empty.