The Boy With a Secret

I stared from the window as the cab raced through the largely empty streets. Silvery Sands, gorgeous blue sea with a blue sky to match, lush greenery, and Toddy, Goa was the preferred holiday destination for people, both inter and intra countries. Whether you were drawn to the churches or other Portuguese ruins, or whether you wanted to soak some sun, or a break from your hectic schedule or whether you wanted to party hard with cheap alcohol, Goa was the destination. The epitome of ‘Susegad[1].’

But for me, Goa was home. A home that was now without Saanvi, my little sister. Paying for the cab, I made my way up to the ‘Barsati[2]’. When my parents realised my craze for programming, they had it constructed complete with an ensuite. It was here that I built a gaming app for the first time, where I’d spend many nights playing video games. Saanvi bagged the bedroom once we grew up, then promptly decorated it in the princess theme. Keeping my suitcase and rucksack down, I removed my headphones.  The winds whispered, and I responded, ‘I miss you…’. I could picture her with a mug of tea in her hand, standing in the corner, humming old Hindi Bollywood songs. None of the crazy hip-gyrating chartbusters was for her. She’d sometimes joke that she was an old soul.

 Footsteps sounded on the stairs, and the small frame of Amma came into view, followed by Anna.

‘Putta, kashi assa[3]?’ Her face broke into a smile while Anna grunted a hello.

I knew they’d aged. Thanks to technology, I saw them every day on video chats. But here in the house we’d grown up in, the difference was stark. The lean frames, head filled with snowy white hair (Amma) or no hair (Anna), it took everything in my power to not run down and hug them tight. As if reading my mind, Amma stepped closer.

‘No, I better quarantine Amma.’

Her face crumpled, and tears flowed down her wrinkled cheeks. But she nodded. She started with instructions and updates, her familiar dry voice washing me over. It was unnerving to be here; too silent, too staid. Saanvi put the whirl in the whirlwind. And the Kamats were caught up in it and now lay devastated in the aftermath. Ten years later, still coming to terms. I ran my hand through my hair, a sudden urge to howl and cry at the unfairness of it all.  I was not naïve enough to think that coming back home after her death would be easy, but I had foolishly hoped ten years would have faded her presence. Who was I kidding?

Amma finished her instructions and was now staring at me. I gave her an impish grin and again resisted the urge to bury my head on her shoulder. She returned a mock glare and left with Anna after firing rapid instructions again, knowing fully well I’d have counter questions.

Laughing, I was about to head after her when my phone rang.

‘How are you, loser?’ Dev said in the way of greeting, before screeching, ‘Ow!’

That would be Roomani, his girlfriend. They’d finally gotten together after a tumultuous and intense relationship, just in time before the pandemic hit.

‘Thank Roomani from my side,’ I smiled.

‘Traitor! How does it feel to be back?’

‘It’s crazy.’

‘You will be fine; get a grip Nirav Kamat.’

We chatted for few more minutes before he hung up. I sat for a bit, looking at the multi-coloured spread of houses. The rains had made everything green. I drew a deep breath, the air was heavy with the smell of distant sea and spices. Smiling to myself, I settled in for my long quarantine.

‘This, this was your bright idea for my’ ease of transportation’?’ I scowled at Amma, shading my eyes from the glaring sun. In the brightness of the afternoon, the metallic green of the car shone. On day nine of quarantine, I had to step out for getting my RTPCR test, and Amma refused to let me order a cab. Anna’s car was with the mechanic. Her solution was me driving Saanvi’s car.

            ‘Well, this works, doesn’t it? And getting into a cab can be risky.’ Amma said in her best no-nonsense voice that brooked no arguments and immediately walked away.

Running my fingers around the bonnet, I sighed—the memory of the first day she bought the car jogging my brain.

            ‘Really! Dad let you buy a car, and you bought this! What colour is it even? Algae?’ I said, bending down towards the driver’s seat.

            ‘Says the man who flunked his driving test! It’s Cyprus Green! Thank you!’ Saanvi had blown a raspberry and flicked her golden-brown hair on my face.

I automatically touched my cheek as if I could feel both the droplets of the raspberry and the silky softness of her hair. And if I tried really hard, I could feel the weight of her small hands in mine, holding on tight, as if she trusted me the most in the whole wide world.

A trust I failed miserably.

Shaking my head, I gently opened the door to her car. A car she’d never drive, she’d never struggle to put in gear, never be able to douse with that sickening lavender smelling wax.

 I could still smell the faint Davidoff’s ‘Cool water’. She loved cool water, ever since her best friend gifted her a wee little bottle when they were 16.

‘Nirav…’ His voice floated through the open garage door as if my thoughts had willed him to appear. The muscles in my stomach tightened, and my hands clenched into fists. The car hood blocked his view, but I could see him. The lanky frame had filled in well, and I could see lean muscles as the wind glued his t-shirt to his frame. His hair was cut short, not like the long ponytail he’d sported earlier.

‘Nirav?’ He called again. This time his voice was stronger.

I steeled myself as I straightened up, unable to meet his eyes: Ray, my sister’s best friend. I could practically hear his accusing gaze.

I was, after all, the one who had killed his best friend.