Goodbye.

She looks up at me her black hair dripping wet, cascading like waterfalls down her shoulder. Her eyes brim with tears as she asks pouting, “Why would you do that?” “Uh,” I start, a jug of water in my hand, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. “ It was just a prank,” I say. I hear the door slam open, revealing a very crossed mom. “Priya, you’re the big sister! How could you this to your sister?!” she yells, yanking the water jug from me. “But it was just a prank-“ I start, but the door closes. “Look at that,” I say, plopping down on the torn rag that was supposed to be my bed. “Happy now?” I ask. “Sorry,” my sister says, trotting up to me and laying her cheek on my shoulder. There she goes again, throwing me off guard with those antics of hers. “What is it?” I ask, now flipping through my tattered journal. “I’ll get you back one day too, you see” she mutters, snuggling up beside me.

My feet felt sore with all the chores I did today. Thinking I finally got my free time to write, I sit down and open my old journal. “How dare you forget?!” I start and turn, to see a very crossed looking mom. “What happened, mom?” I ask. “You didn’t do the dishes! Again!” she yells. “But u never told me to!” I say, aghast. “Oh, you’re now acting like as if you forgot it?” she says. “No, really mom, I-” I start, but I’m cut off by her. “So it’s something I have to tell you to do, huh?” she says now. “Okay, I’ll do it, mom,” I sigh and make my way over to the kitchen again.

It was now time for mom to go bring water from the well, I think. Plopping down on the beaten-down rag in my room for the second time I open my journal, hoping mom wouldn’t call me to the kitchen again. Hearing footsteps approaching my room, I quickly scramble behind the rusty cupboard, not making a noise. “Where is that girl” I hear my mom mutter. “Must be out again with those friends of hers, wait till she comes back” she says as the footsteps recede and finally make their way out of the house. I crawl back out and holding the journal close to my chest, look out the window wondering when I could one day, write without constantly having to look over my shoulder.

I then put my greying coat on, tucking my shabby hair into it. As I made my way to the factory, I wondered what crime I had ever committed, be it in my previous or present life, for this weight of a family weighing on my shoulders. I soon find myself standing still at the factory gate, waiting to be let in. “Come in” the gruff voice of my boss calls me in. “And get to work fast.”

Hours later I’m back home, and I look up at the rusty clock on the wall. It’s time for my sister to come home. I hear a knock at the door and opening it, I see my sister standing there, a tired look on her face, her legs thinner than ever. “Was work hard today?” I ask as she nods. “I’m sorry you have to do this… you know how things have been going downhill after the incident with brother,” I say, my mind flashing back to that day when I had to run from the hospital barefoot, run to my waiting mother to convey the news we have been dreading. Brother was gone for good. And that’s when my mother started treating me this way. As if it was all my fault. “Come here,” I say, pulling my sister into a warm hug, holding her tight against my chest. I didn’t want her to see my tears.

I sit down with my journal, running my hand along its edges tattered with the number of times I’ve opened it but failed to write even a word in it. As I lift my pen, I hear a knock at the door. “Mom, you’re early” I breathe, opening the door. “Well, were you plotting up to prank your poor sister again?!” she asks, her lecture starting right from the doorway. “Not on my watch” she mutters, making her way over to the kitchen. I gulp. I haven’t done the dishes.

I sit in the kitchen, scrubbing dishes as mom left to collect water the next day. “Bye mom,” I call out after her. I hear the door slam, leaving me in cold silence.

I then continue with my routine, pulling on my coat, tucking my hair inside, and making my way over to the factory. “Come in,” the usual gruff voice greets me in as I make my way over to my post, get rid of my worn boots and start hammering smouldering hot pieces of metal. “Get working faster, boy!” a supervisor yells in my direction as I nod, trying to tuck my hair deeper into the coat.

As I make my way over to the gate after a hard day at work, suddenly a hand stops me. I look up to see the supervisor from earlier, eyeing me. “Wait a minute...” he says, as I quickly look down, trying to walk away. “Stop,” he says, grabbing hold of my hand. My heartbeat quickens as my mind is a muddled mess now, thinking for a way out from this trap. “You forgot your gloves.” He says, flinging them towards me. “T-thanks” I mutter, hurrying out the gate. That was close.

I’m back home, and this time I don’t write. I make my way straight into the kitchen, and finish my chores. I hear a knock at the door. I open it to find my sister, tired as ever and quickly take her to the kitchen for a glass of water. And watching her thirstily sip at the glass of water, that’s when I make up my mind to somehow send her to school, rather than work.

“When are you going to get me back for that prank, huh?” I ask in between doing the dishes. “Maybe some other day” my sister mutters, her eyes following schoolgirls leaving for home after school.

With the little money left with me, I decide to pay for my sister’s tuition fee for the first month. I walk up the tiled floor, my dirty sandals looking out of place against the shiny linoleum floor. I knock at the principal’s office, the documents and tuition fee in a neat little envelope in my palm. “Come in”, a gruff voice greets me in. “Good morning sir,” I say as he indicates me to sit on the shiny chair. “What’s the name?” he asks. “Priya,” I say. “The student’s name, I meant,” he says. “Oh, it’s Rita,” I say, flushing. “Where do you live?” “Uh…” I say. My throat has suddenly grown dry. “Near the slum, sir” I finally manage to say. “Hm,” he says, quiet for a while, going through the documents. “You know what,” he says, looking at me, my shabby hair, my shoulders slumped with months of toil. “I think I can help you.”

I’m back at home in my usual place in the kitchen, scrubbing a persistently dirty vessel clean, as my mind flits back to what happened at the principal’s office. “I’m not sure about the rest of the family, but your sister Rita, I can arrange a hostel stay for her, since the conditions in your house might not be suitable for her to perform better in her studies,” the principal had said. “No, I know she can-“ I start, but he seemed persistent on it.

My sister would be moving to a hostel the first thing tomorrow.

My mother shoots me a look as she enters the kitchen, her wrinkled hands full of grocery. “I can help with that mom,” I say, standing up. “You’ve helped me enough, Priya,” my mom says as I look up at her, confused. “You’ve helped me enough by throwing my little daughter into that wretched place without even a second thought, you should have at least asked me...” she says, covering her face with her shawl. But mom, I-” I start, but she walks into the bathroom sobbing, leaving my words hanging in the air. “But mom, I thought I’d at least give my sister a future… a future that you never gave me,” I say into the emptiness.

My eyes water as I see my little sister in her uniform and luggage, her hair tied into a neat plait. “Hey, looking like as topper already!” I say, engulfing her in a hug, trying to hold my tears back. Rita has an evil-like smile on her little face like she was hiding something. “Heh, what’s the little devil thinking of? Don’t be naughty at school, okay?” I chuckle, ruffling her hair. Mother sits there in a corner, seeming to be preoccupied with the beans. I let go of my sister but hold her hand, suddenly wanting to spend a few more minutes with her. ‘Don’t go,’ I wanted to tell her. ‘I don’t know if I can survive without seeing that dimpled smile first thing in the morning,’ but all I do is give her a nod, and look over to my mom. She still takes notice of neither me nor my sister. Well, guess yesterday’s explaining to my mother didn’t work then, I think

‘Mom, mind wishing Rita good luck?” I ask her, still holding my sister's hands. She looks up from her work for the first time, but only at my sister. “Good luck, dear… and try to come back to mamma soon” my mother says, going back to work on her beans. “Right, see you,” I say and make my way to the hostel where my sister would stay for the first six months.

The next day I'm up early and at work, hammering away at the metal with all my might, trying to ignore the tears running down my cheeks. I hastily wipe them away, trying to ignore the scorching heat beating down my neck, the longing to see my little sister once more, the way my mother’s been ignoring me from yesterday. “Ay, get going faster boy!” I start as I hear the supervisor to my side. He bends down without a warning, peering into my face. “Boy, why you crying?” he asks, staring at me as I try to look down. “Wait a minute- you aren’t a boy!” he exclaims, yanking me by my collar. “Why you-” he yells, shaking make, as everybody’s attention suddenly turns towards me. “S-Sorry sir, I w- was just hungry!” I manage to stammer, praying I somehow wouldn’t end up losing my job. “Get out!” he yells, spit flying everywhere. “This is no place for girls!” he yells, dragging me out the gates. “Sir, please.” I plead, trying to pull away from his grip. “Get out!” he shoves me out, “and STAY out!” “Sir, my wages for this month…” I say as the gates close on my face.

As I slump back home, I see a crowd on the street. Must be some accident I think, making my way home. But as I near the crowd, I hear people murmur, “She was too young…”, “Gone too early…” As I pass by, people stare at me, some talking behind my back. And that’s when I hear it “Priya must be devastated.” My eyes widen in shock as I start pushing through the crowd, hoping with all my heart I wouldn’t see what I thought I’d see. I pushed through the throng of men and women and little children-some reminded me of my sister- to finally come to a stop in the middle of the crowd. No. And there I see a little body on a stretcher being carried into an ambulance, black hair like waterfalls, cascading down its side. “No,” I mutter, “NO!”

I then run back home as fast as I can, as my mind flits back to that day I lost my brother, running as fast as my legs could carry me lest I reach my mother too late, but as I near home, I already see her at the entrance, sobbing quietly into her shawl like yesterday. “I told you,” she tells looking up at me, “I told you not to put her into that wretched place.” “But mom,-” I start but she raises her hand to stop me, not wanting to hear more.

I slump into my room and sit at the window feeling numb, when my mind flits to my journal. My hands stretch to the little dusty stand in the corner to retrieve it, to find some solace in writing, but I don’t find it there. Huh? I walk around the room, looking for it. My legs felt like lead, my head spinning dangerously as the fact that I would never see my little sister again, sinks in. I sit on the bed to steady myself, and that’s when I feel something hard underneath me. I slip my hand under the mattress to pull a book out-my journal. Who kept this here? I think, confused.

And that’s when I see the note stuck to its cover. ‘Haha, pranked you!’ it read, in my sister’s neat handwriting and I chuckle, despite myself.

“You did get me back, after all,” I say into the silence, tears running down my cheeks.