The One Thing I didn't say

For the umpteenth time in my life, I’m upset again. It’s not as if something big has happened, just the usual shadows of unhappiness have cast over my mood.

It began with me getting up late (as it always does). Somehow, I remembered the day I had gone to Mumbai. For the first time in my life, I had seen the tall buildings I had just seen in photos on Google. I had felt the college campus I had dreamed of—the massive welcoming black Iron Gate, the automated doors, air-conditioned campus. It was the life of my dreams. Just what I had thought of doing—clearing my XII with 93%, I had all I wanted to set foot in this college.

After our first experience of the AC local train, Papa and I were enthralled by the posh campus. We had even signed in an entry register to enter the premises. Heart beating, I approached the enquiry desk.

‘Yes,’ asked a bespectacled woman, without lifting her eyes off the computer screen.

‘Mam, I wanted to enquire about the admission to first-year.’

‘Are you in-house?’

Luckily, I had researched that in-house meant from the same college. I denied.

‘Have you given the CUET?’

‘What’s that?’

The woman sighed in exasperation. ‘Common University Entrance Test—a test conducted at national level for candidates seeking admission to prestigious universities.

‘I-I didn’t know about it…when does the registration close?’

The woman laughed slightly. ‘The exam is tomorrow. Registration closed three months ago!’

‘But-but-can I get admission in this college?’ I asked, crossing my fingers behind my back.

‘No,’ she replied firmly.

Papa joined me. ‘Just look at her mark-sheet…she was first in her college…94%, she even got the best girl award in the college…she has all documents ready…’

‘—But she has not given the CUET and we only accept candidates who have scored 90+ and have appeared for CUET.’

‘Mam, is there any other way?’

‘No. You should have researched if you wanted to secure admission in this college.’

I felt as if my rib-cage had somehow stopped supporting my heart. I sniffed and picking up my file, I walked out of the automated doors, knowing that they were closing forever behind me.

Papa burst in a series of explanations. ‘I’m sure we can work a way out…they can’t deny you admission! After all, you’ve got 94% we’ll think of something…’

I silently made my way, narrowly avoiding death thrice in the Mumbai traffic, listening to a few chosen words I would not have dreamed to hear in my hometown.

Noticing my silence, Papa must have realized that probably I didn’t believe him. I checked my phone. Mummy had not even called. We had left without informing her, she was strongly against me taking admission here.

I opened my mouth but my voice didn’t come out. I cleared my throat and blinked. ‘We have a Virar local in half-an hour,’ I announced.

Half an hour later, I found myself pushing through the crowd on Borivali station. Somehow, we made our inside the train. I found a seat for Papa and proceeded to stand by the door, my bag in front of me.

The afternoon sun scorched my face, my eyes started watering. But the water was much more than what sunlight could have caused. The thing that had broken in my ribcage since mam had denied, finally got crumbled and here I was, standing by the door in a crowded local, scorching in the sun, crying over my shattered dream.

Our journey from Virar to my hometown was relatively more comfortable. After spotting the coconut trees by the East-west railway bridge, I heaved a sigh. Body aching all over, I carried my bag home, feeling sorry to have dragged Papa in all this with me. He was already ill and I had dragged him all the way to Mumbai in this age. How ungrateful of me!

If I expected a consoling shoulder at my home, I was totally wrong. Mummy burst off at full pace once she had given us a glass of water.

‘You don’t care about having a mother, do you? You ran away like thieves when I was sleeping, didn’t you?’

‘I didn’t want to disturb your sleep…besides, we had told you yesterday night that we—’

‘You just want to do your own will, don’t you? Fine, then, I’m leaving this house!!!’

Papa stopped drinking water. I nearly dropped my glass. ‘You are taking this too far…’

‘Oh yeah! You are going to side with your daughter, obviously! I’m going,’ she said, her eyes were red. ‘You didn’t get admission right? You deserve it! Idiot, fancying all sorts of stupid things…just because you got some good percentage in XII, you thought you could fly to Mumbai! Didn’t I tell you to watch your step? Serves you right!!!’

The water I wanted to drink was coming out of my eyes now. ‘That’s what you wanted, right? You weren’t even ready to listen to me…what I wanted, how I wanted to move on with my life…nothing,’ I sniffed, it was going to come out now, ‘in the mornings you said I spoiled your mood, in the afternoon whenever I tried to talk, you threatened to get up from lunch and at night, when I returned from work, you said wanted to sleep! Were you even willing to listen?’ and with the last word, I broke into tears. Because I had felt that sentence a thousand times every day, I had sobbed over it in my bed. I had spilled tears over that while washing utensils at night. ‘You never even tried.’

My mother uttered something I had never dreamed of hearing from her lips. Papa was rubbing his chest hard. My sister intervened.

‘Papa, both of you must be tired. Why don’t you go out and have some fresh air? Bring some dinner too, we haven’t cooked anything.’

‘Yes, take her out of my sight! Don’t you dare return back!!’ my mother yelled at me.

I wiped my eyes and walked out of my house. I didn’t even finish the glass of water. Silently, I sat on the scooter with Papa. I couldn’t see anything around me, my sight was clouded by tears.

Finding an empty bench, we sat down and I broke again. Hadn’t I done everything with her permission? Ever since my childhood, I hadn’t gone to a single picnic, neither had I taken part in any extra-curricular activity. I had watched my classmates smiling a playing on the ground, while I was sitting in corners, burying my head in books because I was giving five exams every year instead of two. I had even denied to go to movies with my friends because she had denied. She had denied me for tuitions, I had studied without them. She had told me to stop wearing jeans, I had stopped wearing those too. She had told me to not leave my hair open, I had started tying them in plaits too. What had I not asked her? Couldn’t have one right to decide what I do in my life?

I had talked to her about pursuing CA and she had denied that too, saying that my exams would coincide with my semester exams. And when I told her I could take the exams again if I failed, she had told me that I didn’t value the hard work she had put for earning that money!

Had I not valued money, I too would have stamped my foot for a new bike like Priya had done. I would have demanded for parlour appointments like Sayali. I would have asked for tuitions like Ketki.

I spent some time sobbing in the dark. Then, I dared to look at my phone. I saw my best friend Pranay’s number. I somehow wanted to dial it. But I wasn’t going to. Just yesterday, when I was out with Ketki, he had called her and they had chatted for a good 10 minutes, laughing continuously. Overhearing my voice, he had asked Ketki who she was with. She had said it was of no use to him. And he hadn’t recognized my voice.

I had spent six months with him, he had heard my voice a million times when I had answered in college, when I had spent hours teaching him during our Board exams. How could he have forgotten me so easily? Right from the day our last paper was over, he hadn’t called or messaged once. He’d just given me one word answers whenever I texted him. And seeing my missed calls, he hadn’t thought it important to call back.

Still, I tried. I had asked him how his admissions were going on. His reply had come. It wasn’t fine. I asked him what happened. He was online. He told me there was some problem in his form. Daring, I told him my admission too had not gone well. He asked me what happened. I replied that mummy had denied me to take admission at Mumbai. And he replied ‘Ok’. And he went offline, never to return to that message.

OK? So here I was having a problem, and he was just OK? He didn’t want to ask what had happened. He didn’t care one jot? Was I really unworthy of that tiny amount of friendly concern?