My Aunt's Possession

Chapter 1

It was an early Sunday morning, bright and sunny, birds chirping outside the window, neighbors playing bhajan on loudspeakers. The scent of freshly cooked paratha made my mouth water as I brushed my teeth by the sink. Papa was on his phone, listening to the stock market. In our perfectly content life there had never been any hiccups. Every morning was fairly predictable.

Mom's cell phone rang right at 9:15 AM. It was quite early for anyone to call her on a Sunday morning. I was still groggy from sleep so I didn't pay attention to what mom was saying on the phone. I thought it was just another telecaller who tended to call during the most inconvenient times. When I heard Mom's panicked voice that's when I knew it wasn't a telecaller.

"What? When?" she asked with an unsure edge to her voice.

Her face fell from whatever the person on the other side said. She sat down on the dining chair, palm on her forehead. I had never seen her so tense. So worried. Not even when I hurt myself while learning to ride a bike.

"Is everything alright?" papa asked, leaving his phone on the sofa and walking towards her.

He sat beside her on the chair, touching her shoulder while she listened to the person on the other end. Papa and I waited patiently, holding our breaths for her to finish her call.

"Is she alright?" Mom asked with a staggering breath.

Her words only made us more tense.

Whatever the person said made her sigh with relief. She nodded and agreed to the questions asked by the person before disconnecting the call.

"Who was it?" I asked from the bathroom.

"A nurse," Mom answered, which only made things more confusing. "Malti di is in the hospital," she said, turning to Papa.

You see, my mom comes from a big family. She was the youngest of her Four siblings. Her parents, wealthy Zamidaars, from Dhun, a small village in rural Jharkhand, disapproved of her relationship with a lower-caste boy. My father was the son of a poor farmer then. Not the respected government officer he is now. Caste never played a role in his success. He was topper of his class, ranked tenth in the civil service examination. He never used the privilege of his quota to get into university or civil services. He was a brilliant student and that's probably why mom fell in love with him. At the time of their marriage, Mom was twenty and he was twenty-four. They were a young couple, filled with dreams of the future. In a society that strictly followed the hierarchy of the caste system, letting them be together was out of the question. Mom says it was the reason they eloped.

Mom hadn't gone back to her hometown in the last sixteen years. No one tried to contact her as well until today. Pretty sure her parents would kill her if she tried to go home. She didn't hate her parents for not accepting her marriage or not contacting her all this time. She understood their prejudice, understood why they couldn't come out of their backward thinking. However, I had seen her mourn the loss of her family, especially her sisters. She had wished again and again to go and meet them but they stayed back in the same village and got married in the same community, making it impossible for her to go to them.

The nurse who called Mom was from a government hospital where her eldest sister was admitted. He informed that her eldest sister, Malti, had tried to take her own life. Her family was able to save her. When she regained consciousness she requested the nurse to call her.

Which brings us here. On a train heading towards Jharkhand at 100 Kilometers per hour. Dad couldn't join us, he had work but I decided to come with her even though she insisted not to.

"Mom," I called when Mom looked deep in thought, staring outside the window, picking on her fingernails.

"Hmm?" She responded, looking at me but her mind was elsewhere.

"Are you worried about your sister?"

She nodded.

"Why did she try to commit suicide?"

I saw a shudder run through Mom's body, my feet tapped on the floor nervously.

"I don't know," mom said.

"How old is she?"

"Fifty-Two."

"Were you two close?"

Mom looked up to meet my gaze, a faraway look on her, like she was thinking about her past.

"No," she answered.

"She was already married when I was born," mom added.

"How come you never talk about her? I know about all your sisters but her. And now she is asking to see you after all this time."

"I...I don't know."

"You don't know? There is something clearly eating you up."

"Do you want to have snacks?" Mom asked, going through her bag vigorously.

"Don't try to dodge the question, Mom. What are you hiding?"

She bit her lips. "You shouldn't have come with me."

"I couldn't let you go there alone."

"Which station is next?" she asked a tea vendor passing by.

"Orga, madam," he answered before walking away.

"Mom," I prompted.

"What?" she snapped.

"What's wrong? Why are you so nervous?"

"If I tell you, you will regret coming with me. You might even want to go back."

I opened my mouth to reassure her that wasn't going to happen but something in me shuddered at her implication. What could be so bothersome that she thought I would want to go back home? "I am sixteen not ten. I think you can trust me to share your worries."

"Do you really want to know?"

"Yes, mom," I huffed.

"I didn't talk about her much because I was scared. I have been scared of her whole life. I didn't even dare to talk about her to your father. She was one of the reasons I was desperate to leave the Village, leave my family."

"Scared? Why?" I frowned.

Mom sighed like there was so much she wanted to say. Or perhaps didn't want to say.

"It's a long story."

"We still have four hours to reach Jharkhand, you might as well."

She sighed, leaning back and getting comfortable.