Aashi Dey's Peach "Punch"

Had she been sore that day? That was a phase that seemed to have passed long ago. 

She spent these days being rather desolate. She sat against the cane sofa, the atmosphere in the living room was that of ecstatic happiness, excitement and pomp. It had been years since she witnessed anything of that sort, though she was away, she could say, there wasn't much happening at home. Her mom, dad and brother had attained almost a saintly devotion, they had been thriving, her brother was preparing for what most people claim to be amongst the toughest examinations around the world, the great Indian JEE. It's a dream of every millennial high school child. Err, I'm sorry, every child's parent would be a more appropriate thing to say. 

So, it was the day. The exam was finally over, the papers personally evaluated, and a conclusion reached- Her brother was now sure to get an admission in the best university of the country and enrol in the best course the uni could offer. It was great! She was happy, her parents sat down in the living room, her mom painting a saree with the most beautiful florals and her dad singing along the music that played. Ah, that volume, it sure did feel weird to her to listen to music from a speaker in "that" house, that abstained from all probable distractions, all of which her brother willingly obeyed and took over. 

She had been in the corner, humming to the songs that played from the playlist that she had once created. She was happy for everyone, she now had a different way of showing it, a soft smile and that was it. 

She had been working out for quite a few days now, and as usual, her skin started to itch, "another skin infection", her mind reckoned. 

She walked to the room and started rummaging up a box of skin creams. She liked the silence, she had informed her mom about how her skin itched and told her why, she would be closing the door from inside. 

She closed the door, a sense of calm crept in her. The music had dimmed, it was quiet. She liked these times, where she could just lock herself up in a room, with no eyes watching with disgust and no mouths waiting to lend advice. She found an ointment that she thought would work, she applied it over the places of itchiness. She didn't mind putting her pants on again, she just went back and laid on the bed. She watched the fan go round and round, as always she wondered, they didn't bother about her presence, they just let her be. It wasn't a surprise anymore, she'd gotten used to it. She got up again, it was the time to play dress up a thing for those empty days. She picked her latest lipstick and applied it all over her lips, a very dark shade her mom disapproved of- burgundy. 

She turned around to examine her body, looking at her flab, the stretch marks she had. Just then, she found a familiar bottle of skin cream she could relish for now. Peach Punch it was, she stopped wearing it long ago, she doesn't exactly remember when, but only remembers that that "when" had been long ago. She checked for the expiry date, it had expired around three years ago, it didn't matter to her anyway. 

She squeezed some from the bottle, she was cautious of not putting it over her face for she had been cautious enough about the notorious acne scars her face bore. 

She applied it on the back of her hand, it still felt the same silky smooth and it's aura, the same strong fruit smell, she called it that way though she had never smelled a fruit like that before. She now looked at herself in the mirror. 

It was a difficult thing to do for her- looking at herself in the mirror, especially her face. She walked past the mirror avoiding any chance of looking at her face, for, the demographics of acne, scars and warts were changing and on the boom. The sickening scent had gotten upon her, now, Peach Punch was to choke her of her past. 

She looked at herself, and tried to touch her nose, as if it were someone else in the mirror. Nose of her mirror self, to her surprise, worked as a button to the past. Miracles of the mind. Now, across the mirror, she found herself looking at someone else, this was a girl- much prettier, much younger, someone who looked much more confident. The girl wore an off shoulder top, a pretty floral mini skirt, that she recognised, doesn't fit her anymore. The girl swirled around flaunting her high heels. The girl had been applying the same cream, the same aura, "someone familiar" she thought. It was her past self. For everyone else who saw, it would just be a plump girl wearing no pants but lipstick on, looking at the mirror in awe but for her, it was different. She consciously made a run behind the girl that had bedazzled her. Her life was perfect, something from the fairy tales, her brother was still younger, and her parents so proud of her. She had her day planned, she attended calls from classmates who called to get some doubts clarified. She grinned, she laughed, she hit her fist against wall when she won a quiz and mindlessly screeched of the pain. Everything was allowed, she was a star after all. Aashi hugged herself now, insecure about all the pieces of failures that seem stitched across every bit of her. She realised how calm a person she was now, nothing of that charm, nothing of that character and nothing of that spark, she couldn't help but call across the mirror, call upon her younger self, her through heavy of grief and a sense of embarrassment, a full sense of failure. In a few months, she knew, her younger self would go on a spree of self disbelief, vultures would eat flesh off her and she would just, snap. She knew that the happy self of the mirror would lose it all in a few months. People would stop talking her, parents to stop being proud maybe? Aashi did not want to watch it at all, she still didn't completely learn to get over her past scars, those of the heart, did she? 

She helplessly stretched her arm out to touch herself on the other side of the mirror, tears ran down her cheeks while she reached out to touch the face of the girl smiling at her brightly, just as she touched her face, the younger Aashi disappeared. 

She felt embarrassed, she felt utter disgust for herself, the most intense of anything she'd felt in a past few days. How could she give up on that precious a girl.

She looked up once again her palm still on the mirror, she had a habit of checking how red her face turned while she cried. A habit she carried along from the age of five maybe. 

To her surprise, what she now saw was a much younger Aashi, younger than the star girl. She had been applying the same cream. Aashi now remembers, it was probably one of the first bottles of Peach Punch she had purchased. The girl accross the mirror was had much worse acne, she happened to apply the cream all over her pimples, she grimaced as she felt her face burn. Aashi couldn't help but laugh a little at her younger self as she wiped her tears and held the frame of the mirror to watch more. Early-teenage-baby Aashi was nothing of a girl, any early-teenage-baby-boy would want to date. She was a heavy small kid with booming acne,with a belly bigger than a pot. She came running across the mirror all excited, flaunting her first set of sunglasses, a little too big. She demanded her brother to click pictures from a 3 MP mobile camera her mom had back then, some seven years ago it was. Facebook excited her, she would post pictures of her, her little group of friends liked them, commented, she would laugh hysterically. She went back to studying that day's chemistry portions, for she only cared to impress her favourite teacher at school. She'd workout, there wasn't much change she needed to see in the mirror to make herself happy. She would check her picture once in a while, thinking she was the most beautiful piece of shit in the whole wide world. Yes she was. She took pride in her noob badminton skills, immerse herself in Bollywood music of the time, the same playlist that has been playing all along on the other side of the door. Real world Aashi now wanted to hug her baby image at once. 

"Thank you" she thought to herself. " All we need is hope, I guess, a bright smile ". She smiled at herself, a grin, she'd check her sharp canines-yet another trial at helping herself. As she looked through her tired eyes, her mom called upon her " Dinner has been served! ".

She picked at her pants impatiently and smiled as she opened the door, hopefully to a new world.