Moyurakhkhi's Cigarettes

5| Rice

My Readpad username was EvansLily394.

I opened the account when I was twelve years old, for the sole purpose of reading wildly inappropriate Severus Snape fanfic. Since I never had enough faith in my own writing to start publishing it online, my account remained just that - of a 12-year-old fangirl's.

But I had to try.

I was going to find the answer to the question that plagued my mind. I was going to prove to myself and to everyone else that I wasn't delusional to want a career in writing.

I'd been working on a novel for the past year. It was my first novel, unless you count the 40k-words-long Marauder's Era fanfic I wrote at the age of thirteen. Every cliche plotline I'd ever read was jumbled into a story where every male within a five-mile radius was in love with the protagonist. It was terrible. I loved it to death.

It paved the way for many short stories, and then eventually an actual novel. But this one took a lot more courage to begin.

I'd written about two-thirds of the first draft. I named it 'When the Water Lilies Bloom'. It was the story of two girls, Moyna and Maisha. Moyna lives in a remote Bengali village, and Maisha is much more privileged. They dare to dream, but both girls are held back by patriarchal practices in their communities. It's awesome. 

Right now, the time had arrived to take it for a test run.

I changed my username to moyurakhkhi. After some internal argument, I decided to upload a real photo of myself as a profile picture. No more voting on slutty stories, I'm not hiding behind fanart of Severus and Lily anymore.

I cringed, scrapping all the detailed info of every fanbase I was in on my profile. I swapped it with an Oscar Wilde quote and a few lines - where I was from, what genre I wrote, etc.

It took me about an hour to write and rewrite the blurb for my book, until I was satisfied. Everything must be perfect.

I added the book cover Fizz had helped me design earlier. She had outdone herself with the art – a pond laden with beautiful white lilies, blooming in the dawn light.

After copying the first chapter from Google Docs to Readpad, my finger hovered for a moment before finally pressing publish.

I was a mess of excitement and nerves. Was it good enough? Would people like it?

To distract myself from the anticipation, I went to Fizz's flat. I met my uncle, on his way to Jummah prayers, smelling of expensive attar from Dubai. He told me to get Fizz out of bed.

The only living thing in Fizz's room was the air conditioner, breathing out frigid draught. Thick curtains drawn, it was a deep, dark cave. It smelled like a hospital.

"Fizz?"

Rustling of bedsheets disturbed the stillness in the room. 

"What's up Mentos," she croaked from under a pile of blankets.

"Bro, it's like a fridge in here," I said, crawling under the blankets and making her shuffle aside. "By the way, I published the first chapter of my book. On Readpad."

She held up a thumb. "Great," she said miserably.

I asked her if anything was wrong.

"I wanna die, so there's that," she said. I snorted. "I have no clue what I'm going to do with my life. I have to start applying to unis soon and I don't even know what my major's gonna be."

I turned on my side to face her. Her skin was pale, with angry red acne on her cheeks and chin. "Weren't you planning to study Business? And take over Chachchu's business?"

She clicked her tongue. "I'm not so sure anymore. I mean, Business is great and everything, and I'm good at it, but like, why would I do this? Why would I spend my entire life running a garment factory?"

"For the money, bro."

Fizz sighed. "But I don't care about making clothes! I see you being passionate and, like, so sure of what you wanna do and my thing doesn't feel right."

"Everybody's journey is different," I said. I didn't know what else to say. So I opened the tube of sliced carrots on her nightstand and offered her some.

She stuffed a few into her mouth. I couldn't believe a person was willingly eating sliced carrots. "You know, everything I do is for myself. Everything. Maybe I should do something for others for a change," she said.

I squinted my eyes. "Why do I feel like you already know what that thing is?"

"I've been thinking about becoming a therapist," she said, turning to me. "But I don't know. I'm fucking depressed myself."

"Hey, the experience you're having now would probably make you a better therapist."

A ping sounded on my phone, speeding up my heartbeat.

It was my online friend feet03 who voted on on my book! She even commented on the first chapter, saying it was cool and she wanted to read more of it.

A strange, twisted ferocity crept up my chest.

I'm going to finish, edit and publish this book. And the first thing I will do with the money is feed Abbu rice. 

Rice - our staple food. The symbol of sustenance.

I wanted the satisfaction of seeing him pick up each morsel, knowing that I proved him wrong, that I did what he said I couldn't.

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A/N: Hello, lovelies! Are you enjoying the story so far? Let me know in the comments, and don't forget to vote <3 

Have a wonderful day <3

- Sadia