The sun beat down relentlessly on me as I made my way back to the train station. No matter how long I had spent here in Chennai, the heat always sucks the life out of me.
Wiping my forehead, I wait for the train as I feel my kurti get wetter and wetter from my sweat. The train reached the station and people clambered in before it stopped, pushing others out of the way.
Elbowing and pushing my way in, I find a seat on the outermost edge of a row of such seats. Holding my bag close, I shimmy in, trying to not fall off when the train starts moving.
The smell of sweaty, dusty bodies coupled with the heat was nothing new, but somehow this time it made me want to throw up.
The crowd who pushed me onto the train were kind enough to push me out as they hurried on in their endless journey to get somewhere, leaving me frazzled.
Stopping an auto, I get in and fan myself with the edge of my dupatta, trying to dispel the hot air only in vain. The auto turns into a cool side street with huge trees blocking the sun.
People speed by on their scooters, always in a rush. I can almost see myself in them, a few decades younger, in the same rush to go somewhere and do something with my life.
A rueful smile crosses my face. The thought of how much I had missed in my hurry threatens to sadden me, but I shake away the thoughts.
Oh well, there wasn't much two girls in love could do in 1973.
It rumbles to a stop and I scramble out, paying the driver his dues. Looking around, I catch sight of a small, unassuming house at the end of the street.
I ring the number I have ready on my phone. It barely rings before the person answers it.
"You're here?" she asks breathlessly. A blush spreads across my cheeks at the sound of her voice.
"Mhm," I mutter, embarrassed at how excited I am to see her. "Where are you?" I ask, looking around to catch sight of her.
"Wait, I'm coming," she says and I hear a door opening in the background, in sync with the door of a house a few steps ahead of me.
Aruna steps out onto the street, her face as flushed as mine. She was still fixing her hastily thrown-on dupatta when she saw me, eyes widening.
Like a teenager, I grin as wide as I can, feeling my face heat up and my fingertips tingle with joy. Her salt-and-pepper hair flutters in the slight breeze, mirroring mine.
Like someone who's forgotten how to walk, my legs feel heavy, frozen to the ground until she smiles, reassuring me with her whole being. She takes a step towards me and it jolts me awake.
Finally, finally, I run over and hug her as tight as I can. She erupts into giggles, hugging me back tightly, swaying from side to side. As if in a dream we hug tight, almost making up for lost time.
But she smells the same, the street smells the same, and the same little house at the end of the street is still there. The only thing that's changed is us, with a few more wrinkles.
When we finally let go, I can only focus on her wide grin -- same as mine -- and her eyes still full of the same love and I ask, "Saptiya?"
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Lilies Unbound | Desi Sapphic Oneshots
NouvellesShort stories set in the sprawling expanse of India, following the lives of women through various times, in various walks of life. This is their story, their story of struggle, of strife. Their story of love.
