The sun beat down on us as we drew squares on the crumbled street and numbered them with the chalk we had stolen. We played lagoori with a pile of stones and a dirt-covered ball. Each day, our bodies grew, our minds expanded, the streets crumbled some more, but the chalk was always stolen and the stones were always free. My mother’s cold palm gently woke me.
A sea of bored, excited and curious faces moved in an unseen current. There were plasma screens of arrival and departure times and people lined up with suitcases and baggage. Soft classical music played in the background. What if I just ran back in and stayed there? She can’t force me to come out. She looked at me. DON’T you dare. My nostrils were accosted by a chemical stench equivalent to nails on a chalkboard. Elderly women in saris glanced at me, from head to toe, and frowned. I realised how out of place I was in denim shorts and tank top.
“Mum! I’m sweating my makeup off!”
“Mum! How long are we here for again?”
“Mother! Asha! Are …show more content…
“How’s Australia?”
I shivered. How did she know that? Who was she?
She refused to speak after that, and I walked home.
What time is it? I reached into my pocket to get my phone. What’s this? I pulled out the crumbled piece of paper. A photograph. I clutched it tight in my hand and focused in on their eyes. They were glistening with mischief. Tears blind me and I turn. The pounding of my joggers against the tarmac matched my heart throbbing with thick nostalgia and love.
“Pallavi. Pallavi! Wait! Stop!”
Before I could draw in the oxygen my body needed, I had melted into her form. Her hands folded around my back, and drew me closer. I felt my body shake, crying for the missed time we will never make back, crying to release the tension of these ten long years.
“Come with me. There is something I want to do.”
We walked home. Mum was spread out on the leather sofa, with martinis, watching an Indian
A sea of bored, excited and curious faces moved in an unseen current. There were plasma screens of arrival and departure times and people lined up with suitcases and baggage. Soft classical music played in the background. What if I just ran back in and stayed there? She can’t force me to come out. She looked at me. DON’T you dare. My nostrils were accosted by a chemical stench equivalent to nails on a chalkboard. Elderly women in saris glanced at me, from head to toe, and frowned. I realised how out of place I was in denim shorts and tank top.
“Mum! I’m sweating my makeup off!”
“Mum! How long are we here for again?”
“Mother! Asha! Are …show more content…
“How’s Australia?”
I shivered. How did she know that? Who was she?
She refused to speak after that, and I walked home.
What time is it? I reached into my pocket to get my phone. What’s this? I pulled out the crumbled piece of paper. A photograph. I clutched it tight in my hand and focused in on their eyes. They were glistening with mischief. Tears blind me and I turn. The pounding of my joggers against the tarmac matched my heart throbbing with thick nostalgia and love.
“Pallavi. Pallavi! Wait! Stop!”
Before I could draw in the oxygen my body needed, I had melted into her form. Her hands folded around my back, and drew me closer. I felt my body shake, crying for the missed time we will never make back, crying to release the tension of these ten long years.
“Come with me. There is something I want to do.”
We walked home. Mum was spread out on the leather sofa, with martinis, watching an Indian