The pond
The late October breeze blew, messing up Kaya's pink butterfly adorned ponytail. She barely noticed and continued to read her book about water bodies. It was a hardback; its glossy pages pouring vivid shades of blue. Her cheeks puffed up as she looked up from her book to the viridescent pond; she shot a grimace at the muddy banks of floating purple hyacinths and went back to her book.
She stroked the printed pages of clear blue-green and yearned for a dip in the oceans and swimming with turtles. She wanted, so bad, to be a mermaid; she wished it on individual candles on her eighth birthday. She planned to ask for the same thing this year on her birthday as well, but for good measure, she made a little prayer to God to make her a mermaid. Her mother told her and her brother that their prayers are prioritised by God since they are innocent children. At this thought, she closed her eyes and made a quick prayer, make me a mermaid, please.
For all latest news, follow The Daily Star's Google News channel. But not like Ariel! She added.
Kaya despised the protagonist of The Little Mermaid. She would never leave her friends behind; she was upset enough about having to leave her goldfish, Pluto, with her Nanumoni for two weeks. No, she would stay with them and probably have a dolphin as her best friend. She recently learned that certain species of dolphins live somewhere near the Sundarbans, and ever since this discovery, she had pestered her parents to take her. But they refused.
Her train of thought was interrupted as little droplets made impact, smudging certain words, and creating polka dots on the pages. Kaya screeched and stood up to tower over her little brother.
"ANTU! STOP SOAKING EVERYONE! STOP! YOU'RE RUINING MY STUFF! OHH IT'S COLD! GET AWAYY!"
"Apuuuu, you should try it. It's fun. I'll push you if you don't." He teased his sister, who only shot him deadly glares she picked off cartoon villains.
"Do you expect me to get filthier in that water? With you and that dog leaving even more germs there?" She rolled her eyes, but this only egged him on, and he whipped his wet hair around, sending more flying droplets forth to make her cringe. Antu was shaking his body, imitating the dog he had befriended. The boy had convinced the neighbouring aunty to accompany them for a dip in the natural pool, or pushkuni (as her grandmother called it), while Kaya was stationed to stand guard over her brother. He snickered and ran away as she began to dab the pages with the handy bunch of tissues from her purse.
Her little yellow purse resembled a lemon wedge and was always positioned at her hip, with a bright yellow strap across her front that said MAKE LEMONADE. It held all her necessary items: a pencil, sanitizer, mask, and a stash of salted cashews she hid from her brother.
The neighbour aunty, pruned up from her extra-long dip in the pool, followed Antu back to the house, leaving Kaya to grumble by herself.
She was allowed to roam the village until sundown during their family visits, but she was not keen on it. She stuck out and too many people stared. She did not enjoy being stopped every few steps to be interrogated about her father's identity, and her grandfather's name, whether the entire family had come to visit, the duration of said visit and so on and so forth. And the most important question of all, if her mother accompanied them this time or had she skipped yet another visit because of her office? She'd noticed over the years that if she said 'no', the villagers would throw sideways glances of disapproval and if she said 'yes', their faces fell to show momentary disappointment.
She preferred to sit by the pond, her little legs dangling on the cement structure of steps that led to the muddy banks of the green water. She sat under the shade of a coconut tree and hunched over her book. She ignored the twinge in her shoulder. She was so engrossed in her illustrated encyclopaedia that she did not notice the bubbles in the middle of the green water. She did not notice the "pop!" sound as something small and white had appeared on the water, from within a tiny whirlpool. It resembled a packing peanut, but it was soaking, and the shape was unfathomable. Two more appeared with a similar noise and then a third. They began to wiggle in the water, creating ripples across the pond.
Kaya looked up from her book to the water; her eyes followed the four moving entities swimming in squares, making new shapes and patterns in the ripples that followed their swift movements.
She took off her bag, placed it on the concrete stairs, climbed a few steps down, towards the water, watching them swim. What were they? She looked for faces, but they only looked like mushed-up Chitoi pitha that melted the wrong way. Was it the wind? No, that couldn't be it!
Kaya inched closer, descending another step. Her eyes were wary, heart beating like a drum. The icky, non-fish aquatic creatures seemed to be dancing to the rhythm of her beating heart, and she could almost hear a distant chant.
They had come closer to her from the centre of the pool. She dipped one foot in the water, and it hit the last cement step, submerged underwater. She could see her toes, decorated with her mom's sparkly nail polish, chipped and uneven now. The water was a pleasant temperature, neither cool nor warm. Nothing like the icy droplets her brother had soaked her in just moments ago.
She looked towards the water; they had come closer still, matching the beat of her heart and still swimming in sync. She took another step. The mud swallowed her feet, but she didn't struggle. The cool water came up to her thighs, the hem of her frock spread on the water surface like an upturned gladiolus. The webs of the hyacinths tangled her legs every so often and slipped off, as if a pair of scissors had precisely cut them off her scraped-up knees. Her skin did not crawl, and she no longer recoiled at the touch of mud or had to wade through knots of hyacinths. Her father would take her down these steps at bath time, carrying her deeper and deeper until the water reached his chest. Then she would splash in the freshwater to her heart's desire.
She walked, entranced, into the water until it reached her chin, the wing of her little pink butterfly stuck out like a shark fin. The little creatures were still doing their little dance, still a few feet away from Kaya. She reached out one leg, hoping to find some mud to stand on. Just then, the surface gave away, and she was submerged.
Her arms went up, reaching for something above; her feet struggled to find some support. She gasped for air, but her open mouth only met water, as did her nose. Her attempts to cry for help were squandered. She merely gurgled and bobbed up and down in the water until her limbs gave up. She felt the liquid fill her orifices until it felt like her insides had flooded, and she could feel no longer.
***
Monisha had spent the better part of her day running after her son, when she was not dealing with her regular household chores. Being anywhere for days at a time with two under ten meant it was a business trip for her, there was no room for relaxation.
It was four in the afternoon, and she had sat down with her post-lunch cup of tea on the veranda when she realised Kaya had missed lunch.
"Tch!" She clicked her tongue in annoyance and began to blow on her cup of fragrant ginger tea. Antu sat with Mina, the help, on the old mosaic floor of her husband's family home. The two were playing a game of snakes and ladders, Mina's eyes were drooping after a day in the sun. But she kept rolling the dice and let Antu count and place her pieces, uncaring of his cheating habits. Monisha took a sip and set the cup down.
"Antu, where's your sister gone?"
Antu could tell from his mother's eyes that his sister was in trouble for something. He beamed.
"She's been by the water all day." He answered as he moved his little blue piece up a ladder.
"All day?! Since when?"
"Since I went with Kalu to bathe. She was there then; after that, I don't know where she went." He shrugged and shook the rough-edged yellow dice inside the fragile plastic cylinder and released them with a flourish on Aishwarya Ray's face printed on the ludo board.
Monisha bit her lip; something inside her heart dropped. She glanced at Mina and Antu, hesitated for a moment, then got up from her chair towards the pond. A few steps out, she could see her little Kaya, soaking top to toe, covered in gunk and mud, coming towards her. Monisha half-ran.
"Kaya! How did you get wet?!"
Kaya was bombarded with questions, hugs, and scolds from her mother. Mina and Antu watched from a distance, silent. Kaya's eyes were wide, and she was quiet. Her book and bag were as dry as she was wet.
"Did you drop something? Were you alone?" Kaya nodded. "I'm just glad you're safe. Tell me later, okay? Were you scared?" Monisha kissed her dirty, wet face and tried to pry off some of the weeds, leaves, and roots off her hair, forehead, and neck. "Mina, take her inside. Get her changed. Go to her, maa, get freshened up. I'll get your lunch. You missed your lunch!" Monisha fussed about her daughter and cussed at Mina for not doing the one thing she asked her to do, follow her kids around.
Antu stared at his sister. She stared back at him; the siblings were probably silent together for the first time ever. Mina took Kaya's hand and headed inside. Antu followed them.
The three were in the kids' parents' room; Kaya was half-dressed with her hair still tied up. Mina wiped the girl's body with a clean, damp handkerchief as Antu made a game out of pointing at the places she had missed. A mossy green C-shaped mark had appeared under Kaya's left ear, where her nape begins. Antu reached out to touch it as a part of his game, but his sister grabbed his hand with a swift and precise motion as if she was a master of martial arts. The motion struck Antu somewhere inside him, near the heart, something icy and sharp.
"Don't. Touch. Me." She looked at him, for the first time he didn't have a clever quip nor the guts to come up with one. "I'll just go take a shower."
She waved Mina's hands away and turned to go to the bathroom; her nape exposed itself as she turned, and Antu noticed something. He shook his head, it was probably nothing.
Nawar Fairooz is a teacher and aspiring writer.
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