The Rooftop

Above the dining table, a rickety ceiling fan sliced the air like a helicopter in descent. The cacophonous sound filled my ears as we sat, dipping pieces of chapattis in piping hot dal on a balmy summer day. Summers in India were my constant; the moment when the seesaw was suspended in the air, levitating above the mud and sprouts of crisp grass below. Although my silken blouses and floral dresses clung to my perspiration in the humid air of Panipat, the stickiness always flew to the back of my mind as the forefront was filled with dreams of dalliances and unfathomable love and a future as bright as the sun shone during the days.

A broken piece of chapati dangled from my fingers as my insides shuddered for the summer that lay ahead this time. Nothing would ever feel the same on this levitating, unmoving seesaw. I dropped the shred of chapati onto my plate.

“Can I have some?” I extended my arm abruptly towards the oblong bowl filled with roughly cut cucumbers, tomatoes, and onions. Ma passed the salad over, leaving a few specs of food from her fingers on the pristine white bowl. The scalding dal was too much to take with the sun blazing outside, so I plucked a few pieces of cucumber, hoping that would suffice as lunch.

“How is London?” Jagdev Uncle asked out of the blue; a grotesque mix of tomatoes and chapati churned in his mouth.

After swallowing hard, I mustered up an answer, “It’s fine…it’s good.” There wasn’t much else I could have said.

“How is your job going?” Jagdev Uncle persisted as he seemed to attack his bowl of mutter paneer.

“Yeah, my job is going well.” My voice was monotonous.

“Good, good,” he said in muffled tones. “You were always the creative one in the family. Where have you been acting?”

“Ermm,” I cleared my throat after chomping down on a cucumber. “Mostly on the West End. I have been in some commercials as well,” I said while glancing sideways.

“She is very busy nowadays,” my nani was thrilled, “I barely see my darling Ananya anymore.” Just before her fingers pinched my cheek as a glorious stage of affection, I moved my face sideways to avoid the whole ordeal. Nani redirected her hand to a solid pat on the shoulder.

“Good, good.” Jagdev Uncle had a penchant for repetitive phrases. “Not everyone gets to do what they love, especially here.” Everyone’s faces dimmed down as if the sunlight was suddenly sucked out of the sky, encasing us in darkness. “I feel sorry for the Magoons; it was a tragedy. Did you hear?” He asked me while lathering his plate with crispy bhindi.

I did. “No, what happened?” I chewed on a piece of dry chapati, hoping to choke down the wails climbing up my throat.

“Surya, their son, died a few months ago. He was an engineering student; everyone said he was very bright.”

“I still remember how shocked his parents were,” Ma added lamentfully. “They didn’t say much, but we saw it all over the news. He wasn’t the only case among university students this year. Do you remember Surya?” Ma looked at me, and I hoped the pools of water swelling within my brown eyes didn’t speak too much.

“Vaguely, I’ve barely seen him the past few years.” I had seen Surya many times during my past few summers in Panipat. I still remember the day I heard the news from his roommate. The roses were withered in my apartment, and my heart shattered into pieces when I learned I would never feel the touch of Surya’s milky skin or see the dimples of his smile, which I believed were solely reserved for me. My Sunny, I called him mine because I thought we were a whole at one moment in time—like a cell before mitosis. I was his Ani; only his tongue was reserved for the saccharine name. Ananya for the whole world, but Ani for my Sunny.

“You played with him when you were a kid, but I don’t think you've seen much of each other after that,” Ma said. I blinked a few times, snapping my attention back to the wooden dining table with finished plates and the sound of lips smacking together.

“My doll, you didn’t eat anything!” Nani exclaimed as she saw my deserted plate where a bowl of dal, half-eaten chapati, and scattered chunks of cucumber sat lethargically.

“I’m just full. I had a heavy breakfast.” My composed response put Nani at ease. I could feel my stomach grumble, but hopefully the sounds remained inside me. The distinct clatter of plates started as everything was carried into the kitchen to be cleaned.

Jagdev Uncle burped, and I curled my nose up at the scent of gassy mutter paneer. “I could take a nap,” he said, and everyone else around the table nodded vehemently. “Do you nap after lunch?” Uncle asked me inquisitively.

“I can’t sleep,” I gave a perfunctory reply.

“In general, you can’t sleep?” His eyebrows twisted curiously.

“No, just in the afternoons. I can never take naps.” Although nowadays, sleep has never found its way to me, even on the brink of darkness.

“You should take naps after lunch,” Jagdev Uncle said in his usual advisory tone.

“I’ll be sleeping in the small room, your favourite. Why don’t you rest too?” Nani was on board with Uncle’s suggestion.

“No, I’ll be fine, I might catch up on some reading in the living room.” I didn’t get much of a reply, and soon Ma, Nani, and Jagdev Uncle dispersed towards their lonely rooms, while I remained still, watching Uncle’s defeated gait.

Ever since Jagdev Uncle’s divorce, he has lived at Nani’s house and naps incessantly—not just after lunch, but pretty much after every meal he eats and then some more. After Sunny, I think I understand why; not the sleeping, but finding something that helps dampen the sorrow by a smidge, but never a bit more.

I got up from the deserted table, the heavy chair grinding the floor beneath with a raucous shrill.

I wasn't in the mood to read, so despite the humid air, I directed myself out of the apartment and up the terracotta stairs. With each careful step, I finally reached the cement-coloured roof that displayed Panipat in its little glory. I gazed at the stray dogs galloping across the roads and kids running around the patchy grass. I remembered this spot with every bit of my body. The spot I spoke to Sunny for the first time in a long time.

***

A tumultuous night of rain left the grooves on the floor of the rooftop filled with puddles of water. Despite the cautious approach I had to take while walking across the depleted roof of Nani’s apartment, I still enjoyed coming up every morning when the summer air was slightly cooler. I leaned against the wall, staring across the broken streets and zooming cars, even at this time of day. Although the roof was always silent, muffled footsteps and sounds of splashing water travelled my way. Surya Magoon was soon standing by my side, smiling sheepishly.

I had only seen glimpses of Surya for the past many summers, ever since kids stopped playing and began to wallow in their own homes. I looked at his rugged skin, glistening dark hair, and pools of sea green irises. My heart couldn’t help but flutter a bit.

“Is it okay if I stay here?” Surya’s voice was mellow like honey.

“Yes…I don’t need the whole roof.” I smiled, and he returned the expression with his lips curled up and dimples forming on his face.

“I’m Surya, by the way.” He extended his hand towards me, and although I grasped it, my body shuddered. He doesn’t seem to remember who I am, despite the summers we spent as kids.

“Ananya,” I said quietly.

“Oh, Ani!” He exclaimed, and I blushed. He still remembered me. “Oh, wow,” he muttered reflexively, and I saw his face flush to a shade of pale pink. “You’re all grown up.”

“So are you,” I laughed; he joined in my mirth as our hands were still within a firm grasp. I could imagine my fingers interlaced with his, but the thought made my heart pound so much, I dropped my arm limply to my side.

“Where are you based these days?” Sunny asked as we both stared at the illuminated sky.

“I’m in London for uni,” I smiled brightly.

“Oh wow, what are you studying?” There was a longing inside him, as his milky voice curdled ever so slightly.

“Musical theatre,” I felt shy uttering those words in Panipat, even though I was paving a path to my dream.

He raised his eyebrows with excitement. “Your parents are okay with it?”

“It took some convincing, but they eventually realised this was what I wanted and they should let me give it a shot.”

“That’s great to hear.” He pressed his hand on my back, and my heart thudded so hard, I wondered if the vibrations were sent into his palm as well. “How long are you staying here?” He leaned his head slightly lower, and I had the urge to kiss his cherry red lips. I was nearly salivating.

“A couple more weeks,” I said to my dismay.

“That’s not very long.”

“Not at all.” I was deflated. Before anything else was said, our fingers magically interlaced, and I inched closer to his lean frame. As Sunny stared out into the distance, I began to memorise his face. The few pits left from acne as a young teenager, the pointed nose, and eyelashes extending for miles. London felt like my dream, but in that moment, I wanted to stay in Panipat forever.

***

My palms were clammy, and sweat droplets clung for their life on my upper lip. I was alone on the rooftop. Sunny would never be there, and our fingers would never be intertwined. For the first time since coming to India for the summer, I allowed myself to cry, unafraid that the sounds would travel down to the streets where children cycled and dogs barked sonorously.

Sunny came to the rooftop every morning that first summer we were together, and by default, so did I. I wore my marigold dresses, floral skirts, and fuchsia tank tops that showed more bare skin than my Nani could handle, but she never saw me as I slipped out before the crack of dawn. Sunny winked every time he saw me, and I would launch myself into his strong arms with a smile that reached the corners of my eyes. Hugs slowly morphed into tender morning kisses on the rooftop as the sky was slowly lit by the scorching sun.

As we held each other on the bench with a view of Panipat and its dilapidated homes, I had asked Sunny if we could lie down in the garden by the building’s entrance. I was met with a languid shake of the head. He said I didn’t live in this apartment or even in this small town, so I might not have known, but people whispered in every echoing hallway. Distasteful gossip, repulsive thoughts about young love, or summer flings. Everything was as conservative as a place could be in a small Indian town. It wasn’t like that everywhere, but it was in Nani’s place, and so Sunny and I remained in love on the rooftop. If I’d known there were such few summers with my Sunny, I never would have left.

***

After another year of quite literal singing and dancing in London, I was back in Panipat, heading to the rooftop in my dove slip dress to embrace Sunny. Although it had been a year since we had seen each other, we had spoken nearly every day. I was jittery climbing up the terracotta stairs. There, on our roof, I saw Sunny—a bit of stubble had grown across his face. Despite his worn features, his green eyes sparkled as I ran into his stretched arms.

“You look beautiful.” He meant that with all his heart, and I planted a firm kiss on his rugged cheek.

“How have you been?” I asked as we lay down on the paisley blanket he had spread for us on the floor.

“I’m fine.” I tightened my grip on his hand, sensing the sorrow that was buried beneath those words.

“Is everything okay?” While I continued my singsong dream, Sunny spent countless hours perusing heavy textbooks on mechanical engineering, all while doodling cartoons on scraps of paper. “Is it uni? If you don’t want to be an engineer, why don’t you just say something to your parents?” I added that when Sunny continued to stare into space.

His sharp eyes then sliced at me without any accompanying words.

“I’m sorry,” I said, immediately fumbling for the correct thing to say. I knew better. He didn’t have a choice. Magoon Uncle said Sunny would be an engineer, and so he would be. I sighed, hoping to diffuse his tension. “Remember, it’s just two more years of studying in a very long life. Think of this as a task you need to complete before you can live freely. Just because you studied engineering doesn’t mean you have to pursue it…” I trailed off as Sunny’s wistful face remained still. “What can I do?” I propped up onto my elbow. Without so much as a shuffle from him, I began planting soft, ticklish kisses onto Sunny’s neck and lips. He laughed and pulled me into his arms.

“I love you,” he whispered into my ear. His breath was warm and minty together.

“I love you, too,” I said as my lips closed onto his.

***

“I still love you,” I said into nothingness. The hot air soon faded away as heavy droplets of rain fell onto the rooftop. My sweat-ridden body was drenched with cool rainwater. I plopped onto the floor, unencumbered by the dirt that would stain my dress. I craved for the paisley blanket Sunny brought for us each time we met in our secret place. It must be sitting on his bed, and although I longed to ask Magoon Uncle for it, he would never know why Ananya Ghule, a girl his son only played with as a child, would mourn Surya so deeply.

I slouched further on the floor, my clothes fully soaked and my dark hair stuck to my face like cling wrap. My tears blended with the water droplets, and my soft cries were in harmony with the pattering on the ground.

***

Thick beads of rain fell from the sky without a hint of ceasing, the first day I met Sunny during the summer of my graduation. I wore my flimsy white dress, all see-through in the rain, and he came with just a pair of pants and nothing more. I stroked my hands across his chest, and we clung onto each other ferociously. Each year apart was becoming too much to bear.

“I was thinking,” Sunny started as his forehead leaned against mine, “of applying for some illustration courses in London. Once I complete my engineering degree in a year, I don’t see why I can’t pursue something I want to do.” He kissed me tenderly a few times.

“That sounds brilliant,” I stifled my excitement. I always thought I would have to move to India for him, but the possibility of him coming to London was exhilarating. “You’d be great at illustration.”

His smile had no bounds, and I pressed a finger into one of his dimples—that always made him laugh. “I think so too,” he said.

“Have you spoken to your dad?” I asked.

“Not yet, but he seems to be in a good mood these days, for a change. He might agree.” He held me by my waist, and we twirled in the dwindling rain. “I can’t wait till we’re in London together,” he said.

“I can’t wait either.”

***

I wished with all my heart that all I had to feel was a long wait before I could meet Sunny for the summer. My skin prickled at the thought that we may be parted forever.

After a longer stay than I intended on the rooftop, I reluctantly picked myself up from the floor to descend the chipped staircase back home.

I entered, dripping water into a living room where everyone was wide awake. After a few glances, Jagdev Uncle asked, “Why are you all wet?”

“I just went for a walk and it started to rain,” I said while rushing to my bedroom to change, my eyes following the stained tiled floors.

“Hold on, let me get you a towel first.” Nani rushed towards the cupboard to pull out a paisley towel. “Is this one okay?” She asked.

My gaze was drawn to the design—in the beautiful golden curves, all I could see was my Sunny’s face. “This will do.” I grabbed the towel, unable to say anything more.