The Indian Girl (Editing)

Chapter 1

"This is stupid." I said huffing. One of my best friends, Lekha, turned the recorder off and turned to me. She had that crazy look in her eyes that said 'hey look at me I'm batshit crazy!' Okay, I might be exaggerating, but still.

"It's been two years Adi. You won't talk to a therapist, your too damn moody, and I'm tired of you piling your feelings up on your shoulders!" She scolded.

"Fine woman. Sheesh! And I thought my grandma was bad." I scoffed.

"Just do it. If you want, I'll leave the room." I screamed no before she could.

Why did only this make her happy?

"Do I have to record it?" I asked. She nodded.

"I already explained this part to you. You don't have to talk to anyone but you hear. All you have to do is let it all out. Every bit of it." I heard her plea, and finally nodded.

I turned the recorder on and sat in front of it.

"How do I start?" I asked.

"Introduce yourself. And then tell the camera what today is."

I nodded again and took a deep breath. Here goes nothing.

"My name is Adrika Hegde. I am sixteen going on seventeen. Today is a very important day. Two years ago, on this day exactly, my parents died because of a car accident.

"Now that I've quoted a dialogue from a famous musical from the fifties and have told you the reason why today is important, I have no idea how to go on." I said. I'm not really a sentiment talker. I mean, I talked a lot and all, but emotional things are not my scene. I cried, but I never spoke about what and how I felt.

"Talk about your mom!" Lekha whispered, encouraging me to go on.

"Right. My mom... Let's see...

"Her name was Nayana Hedge. She was born on the second of September, 1975. To be honest, she was and always will be the one I love the most. She was a beautiful woman who was very intelligent. Her wisdom and knowledge set her apart from everyone. To say that she was average would be an insult to her memory. She was tall, around 5'7. She worked as a teacher of the arts. She danced, she sang and she acted. Amazing is the best way to describe her, and even that is not enough." I smiled and bit lip to stop me from taking the wrong breath in.

"She was a patient of cancer. I was going to lose her even if she didn't die in that accident. So losing her wasn't as painful as I thought it would be because I was prepared, to an extent. You're never actually fully prepared to lose someone you love dearly and deeply. Remembering my mother and all my memories with her was both sweet and bitter, because sometimes I miss her so much that I stop doing everything that I was doing and just go blank until my mind takes me back to seeing my mother early in the morning on that unfaithful day. She held me close and told me to have courage, like she did everyday. She kissed my forehead and hugged my with all the strength in her weak body."

I was quite for a while. My mother's memory never made me want to cry or do anything drastic. If anything, I'm glad that a person as amazing as her was even in my life. I was lucky to be the daughter of someone like her. But some days, her missing presence just tears my apart.

"Talk about your dad" Lekha encouraged. She knew I was uncomfortable already, but she was driven and I couldn't stop her now, no one could.

"My dad. Let's see...

"His name was Jeevan Hegde. His name means life, and he truly made his name proud. He was a good person. He never drank, smoked or did substances. Not saying that a good person isn't allowed to drink, but he always told me 'A person above influence is the highest of all'. He never stopped others, just tried to limit them so that they don't cause any trouble to themselves or others. He always kept his promises and made sure everyone was always happy, a quality I hated and loved because he almost always gave too much away to everyone. I could go on and on, non stop about how much like a saint he was, but he was much more. He was a caring father, loving husband, supporting son, protective brother... The list goes on!" I felt like I was talking abou characters from a book.

"When my parents death became apparent, the only thing I could think about was how my dad broke his promise. That very morning he told me he would always be there for me, when he was taking me to school. I told him how I was already missing my mother, and how it was unfair. That's when he made that promise." I could feel the drops fall on my cheeks, and hastily wipes them off.

"I was in depression for two months. Whenever I saw fire, all i could think of was how their bodies were burned so that their souls reached God. Nothing seemed to cheer me up. All I could think about was how my father broke his promise. I did everything routinely. God only knows how I got passed my exams because I don't even remember writing them. Then one day, as I was went to my parents room after having forcefully eaten dinner, o found a box under my parents bed." I smiled. This part fixed so many things.

"The box was filled with envelopes of many, many sizes. I opened the first letter that my hands found to see my fathers handwriting. He had written me a letter in the past to keep me company in the future. He wrote about how angry he was at me for growing up so fast, but that he was proud of the woman I was becoming. I smiled as I read the letter, my smiles growing bigger as I read more and more. His letters became my hearts closest remedy, and soon the grey clouds cleared to the bright blue sky. He wrote me letters about silly little things, reminding me of all the good in life. He wrote me letter of anger, of vain, not against me but to tell me that life wasn't always rainbows and butterflies. His letters made me see so much, and each day I read a letter just because he had written them to me. The constant jab that he broke his promise faded as I realized then that he never broke his promise.

"He even made an email account in my name. I had mails that would take months to read, and they were all from my dad. His letters made me forget that they were gone. He was with me in my memories and photos.

"He managed to get me into arts after I read so many letters and emails with him telling me to excel at them. He was a chartered accountant and had his own firm, but he used to always tell me that studies weren't everything. In memory of my parents, I would dance, sing, paint. They helped me become better. I did become secluded, but he helped me to get back out there."

"On my fifteenth birthday, I got this locket." My hand automatically went to my neck to hold the locket. "It has a picture of my parents on one side and and an inscription on the other.

"My father had somehow effectively and efficiently planned for the inevitable. He knew the possibility of death was always around the corner. So he put the inscription 'With You Always' on the other side."

"Someone told me to start a YouTube channel after I danced solo in front of my school. I thought about it, and with a lot of encouragement, I started a page. I expressed myself through singing, dancing and talking. It was truly therapeutic."

I could hear Lekha clearing her throat from behind the camera.

"Of course, my friends were also an important part of all this. They supported and cared for me through it all. All 49 members of my class turned into the family I needed. Now, I hug more than 30 people everyday because that's how close I am with them. And I give the best hugs." I could hear Lekha cough, and I rolled my eyes.

"I never was locking my feelings up as the events succeeding their deaths helped me let it go. I'm still broken, but only the parts that could never be fixed. It's just that this day is tough, even though I made my terms with it." I finished.

Lekha looked at me tear-faced. She waled towards me hugged me tight.

"I love you, you idiot." she said into me shoulder. I was a head taller than her, so naturally.

"I love you too, you psychotic female." I said back smiling.

My family, my friends were the glue to fix my broken heart.

It's true. All you need is love.