Moyurakhkhi's Cigarettes

19| Brownie

TW: mentions of r*pe in this chapter.
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September 5th, Day 97 of 365

I couldn't wait to see MS after so long, but my mood was still horrible today. A man raped his 17 year-old niece, it was the headline. And as always, the fucking morons were blaming the girl for wearing "only a t-shirt and a pajama" and her parents for leaving her alone with him. People made me sick.

We rolled up the vast lawn. Mihran Sir's red-brick mansion lay hidden from the world under the shade of ancient krishnachura trees.

Sahal's dilapidating Vespa looked funny parked next to MS' impeccable Audi, and we snickered about it a little. The butler let us in.

"Sup, MS? You look great," I said. He was sitting upright today, which was a good sign. He was doing well for quite some time, his body was getting used to dialysis. 

"I've missed you," he muttered, smiling sadly.

I bit my lip to stop it from quivering. I didn't need to cry in front of three people. "Me too."

MS beckoned Sahal, who was lingering awkwardly by the door, to come in. He tripped on the carpet and went flying forward. I l I grabbed him and put him upright.

"Um, sorry. Um, shala- slala- assalamalaikum, sir, I'm Azad Sahal. I mean, Sahal Azad," Sahal stammered. His eyes were as wide as full moons.

MS smiled humbly. "Walaikumassalam, my child. I know who you are, Moyurakhkhi has told me a lot about you."

"Don't get cocky, it's not like I talk about you all the time. It was just one time. Anyways, 'my child'?" I raised a brow at MS. "It took you half a year to stop calling me 'Miss Ahmed'."

MS placed his Quran Sharif on his nightstand and cleared his throat. "We were going to go through the nuances of world building today. However, you appear distressed. I doubt you will be able to focus."

I sighed. "It's just that- did you hear about the man who raped his niece?"

MS took off his red-rimmed glasses and sighed. "Yes."

"Ma made me wear a dupatta today," I said, lifting the georgette material tied around my neck like a noose. It was supposed to cover my chest and magically grant immunity from sexual assault.

"It's not fair," Sahal muttered. "Every girl will face harsher restrictions starting today, but almost no mothers will sit down with their sons and tell them to not, you know, rape."

My chest surged with respect for him, until I realised that I was glorifying a guy for doing the bare minimum.

I felt a little better after ranting about it, so we discussed world building for a while. 

"Weave your story like a newlywed village bride sews a nakshi katha," MS said, leaning forward, eyes twinkling with passion. Nakshi kathas are hand-sewn blankets from rural Bengal. "Your characters will be the colourful stitches, and your world the cloth on which the stitches bloom."

"Did you make that up, like, on the spot?" Sahal gaped.

MS sheepishly smiled. Ah, the epitome of humility with readers but so pompous with peers that he didn't have any friends. I loved him.

Too soon, it was 5 o' clock. We needed to be back at the campus soon.

Sahal touched MS' feet for blessings before leaving and I laughed so hard the premium coffee came out of my nose.

"Moyurakhkhi, would you stay back for a moment, please?" MS muttered as we made for the door.

I popped the last brownie (Sahal had left it untouched because of brown people courtesy) into my mouth.