I tried reaching her multiple times, but each call went unanswered. Messages, calls to her cousins—nothing worked. The silence gnawed at me. Something wasn’t right. I knew her family was taking advantage of her, hovering like vultures waiting to divide the spoils. It sickened me. I wanted to be there for her, but she was unreachable. Days passed, and then, out of the blue, a message popped up on my phone.
"I'm coming to Kochi. Can you come with me?"
That was it. No details, no explanation. Just those few words. I stood frozen for a moment, reading and rereading the message. There was an urgency between the lines. I rushed to get ready, my mind racing with a flood of questions and concerns. What was happening? Why had she been so distant? I showered quickly, my thoughts a blur. It felt like a dam had broken, and I had so much to say, so much to ask her.
When I arrived at the bus stop, I saw her standing there, leaning against a pole, staring at the ground. Her hair was pulled back loosely, and she looked worn out, as if carrying an invisible weight. She lifted her head when she saw me, managing a faint smile. It was a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes, hollow and forced.
Before I could say anything, a bus rolled up, completely empty. We got on in silence, sitting next to each other. There was a strange heaviness in the air. Neither of us spoke, though the space between us was filled with unspoken words. I kept stealing glances at her, wondering what she was thinking, what she was hiding behind that fragile smile.
Finally, she broke the silence. "How are you?" she asked, her voice soft but distant, like she was speaking out of obligation.
"I’m okay," I said, hesitating. "And you? How are you holding up?"
She shrugged, looking out the window. "I don’t know, Shinu. I’m just going through the motions. Not good, not bad. Just… existing. I don’t know where it all leads anymore."
Her words hung in the air between us. I wanted to reach out, to pull her out of that dark place, but I didn’t know how. The silence returned, heavy and oppressive. We sat like that for a long while, almost as if we were strangers, unsure of what to say after all the time that had passed. She kept her gaze fixed outside the window, watching the world pass by, while I sat there, lost in my own thoughts.
The bus reached Kochi, and she made a quick call to someone. I couldn’t make out the details, but soon, a friend of hers appeared at the bus stand and handed her a few books. She barely acknowledged the exchange, just took the books and nodded. Then she looked at me, her eyes searching for something. I didn’t know what it was, but I could tell she wanted to be anywhere but here.
"Shall we go to Fort Kochi?" I asked, trying to break the tension, hoping the change of scenery might help.
She nodded, "Yeah, I need to clear my head. Let’s go."
We bought tickets for the jhankar ferry and crossed over to Fort Kochi. As we walked, the town unfolded in front of us. The crumbling colonial buildings, the narrow streets, the salty breeze from the sea—everything had a sense of timelessness, as if nothing had changed in years. We walked without a plan, just wandering.
"You always loved this place," I said, breaking the silence again, hoping to bring back a spark of her old self. "You used to say it was full of stories."
She smiled faintly, but there was a sadness in her eyes. "Yeah. I thought it was beautiful back then. Now, it just feels… distant. Like I don’t belong anywhere."
We kept walking, and after a while, she asked, "What about you, Shinu? What’s your plan? What are you going to do?"
"Photography," I replied, almost automatically. "I want to travel again, see the world, try to make a little money doing it."
She gave me a sideways glance. "You always talk about traveling, but do you ever think about settling down? Finding something… stable?"
"I don’t know," I admitted. "Maybe I’m avoiding it. Maybe I’m afraid if I stop moving, I’ll get stuck too, like everyone else."
She stopped walking and turned to face me, her eyes serious now. "Stuck? You think I’m stuck?"
"No, I didn’t mean it like that," I said quickly, realizing how my words sounded. "I just meant… I see you, Chippi. I know you're dealing with a lot. I don’t want you to feel like you’re trapped."
Her shoulders slumped, and she looked down at her feet. "I am trapped, Shinu. I don’t even know what I’m doing anymore. My relatives have already decided my life for me. They’ve fixed my marriage. I don’t even know the guy. All I wanted was to finish my course, become a doctor like I always dreamed. But now… I’m stuck in this cycle, this loop, and I don’t know how to break out of it."
There was a vulnerability in her voice I hadn’t heard before. The weight of her words hit me hard. I wanted to say something, anything, to make it better.
"You still have time, Chippi. You don’t have to let them decide your life. You can fight this."
She laughed bitterly. "Fight? How? My father was the only one who supported me. Now, he’s lying there, and they’re already fighting over the property, the money. They don’t care about what I want. They just want me out of the way."
I didn’t know what to say. I felt helpless, standing there while she poured her heart out.
"I’m with you," I said, finally. "Whatever happens, I’ll be here. I’ll support you."
She looked at me, her eyes filled with doubt. "For how long, Shinu? You have your own life to worry about."
"I don’t know how long I live" I admitted. "I don’t know the future. But I know that right now, I want to be there for you. Whatever you need, I’ll try to help. I don’t have all the answers, but I care about you. And I’ll be here as long as you need me."
Her eyes welled up with tears, but she held them back. She stepped closer, and before I knew it, she wrapped her arms around me, hugging me tightly. I hugged her back, feeling the weight of her burdens as she held on to me.
"Thank you, Shinu," she whispered.
Later that evening, we went back to her house. The moment we stepped inside, the air felt thick with tension. Voices echoed from the living room—angry, raised voices. Her relatives were in the middle of yet another argument. I could hear her aunt’s sharp voice over the others, demanding things, talking about property, about money.
"You need to stay here, Chippi. You’re part of this family, and you need to be involved in the decisions," her uncle said, his tone condescending.
Chippi looked at them, her face hardening. "I’m not a child, and I’m not a bargaining chippi. You can’t control me."
Her aunt turned to her, sneering. "Control you? We’re trying to take care of you. You’re the one running off, disappearing without a word."
"Take care of me?" Chippi’s voice rose, full of anger and disbelief. "You only care about what you can get out of this. I’m not stupid. You don’t care about me or my future. You just want me out of the way so you can divide everything."
The room went silent, her words cutting through the noise like a knife. Her relatives looked at her with a mix of shock and anger, but she didn’t wait for a response. Without another word, she turned and walked out of the house.
I followed her as she stormed down the street, her pace quick and determined.
"Where are you going?" I asked, catching up with her.
"I’m done, Shinu. I can’t stay there. I’ll go to your place for the night. I need to clear my head."
We walked to bk's place in silence, and when we arrived, she sat down on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor. Her hands were shaking slightly, but her face was calm.
"You can stay here as long as you need, no need to worry, I will take care of you" I said softly.
She nodded, not looking at me. "Thank you. I just need to get away from them for a while. I don’t know what to do anymore, Shinu."
I sat next to her, unsure of what to say. After a long moment, I just said, "We’ll figure it out. Together."
For the first time that day, I saw her relax, just a little. She leaned back, closing her eyes, and I could see some of the tension leave her body. It was going to be a long road ahead, but for now, she wasn’t alone.
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