Turning sixteen is a sweet memory for most girls. They feel close to the legal age of eighteen and hence feel and want to be treated like grownups, wishing to be taken rather seriously. But the way I was treated by my own kin and kith was much more serious than I had anticipated. After high school ended in May of 2004, I caught a plane to visit my maternal cousins in the summer. I had absolutely no way of informing A1 and I knew he would panic if he wouldn't see me for days on end. This was a tough time because not only his sister but all other friends of mine were cut off and I was forbidden from seeing anyone. I couldn't answer the phone, couldn't answer the door, couldn't step out on the balcony, in fact if I took too long in the shower, my overprotective sister and mother thought maybe I had jumped out of the ventilation window to my death, or worse, to run off to A1. He lived barely a 5 minute walk from my apartment, but if I ran, like I had on one crazy night, it would take me literally only two and a half minutes to reach his apartment. I would still recall that night and think in awe about how fearless I had been, and in moments of self doubt and practicality, how ultra stupid! It was one of those days when I was still sleeping alone and didn't have my mom or my dad keeping an eye on me 24/7. So, those nights I would pretend to go to bed early around 11. I had developed immens spirituality by then, talking to my Creator, every hour, in my head, silently. It was like having a friend to converse with each second everyday .In an age when cell phones were a luxury and I didn't even own a personal alarm clock, I would pray He would wake me up in the wee hours of the night and boy, did He! Or was it plain anxiety or subconscious? So, I would tiptoe to the telephone and call A2. He'd be up most nights and answer immediately. We would talk a bit, or have intimacy over the phone. He'd tell me to run my hands over my bodice and close my eyes to imagine it was him doing it to me and I would be whisked away into fantasy. But that particular night, I needed more than his voice on the phone. So I draped a long piece of white cloth over my slim figure and carefully opened the front door and stepped out of my apartment. I had to adjust the knob in a twisted position so that i could re enter through the door because the keys were in dad's custody. I ran to his apartment and knocked lightly. At 3am I shivered, not due to the cold, but the trembling realisation of what would happen if any adult discovered me without shoes standing outside his home. What would I say?
Alas, in a few months time however, all that became pure luxury, when I was kept in constant vigilance in my 3 bed apartment. There wasn't anywhere I went alone, except to the bathroom and that too not for long durations or my folks would find it suspicious and I would have to sit through unnecessary interrogation leaving me with a pounding headache. It would take me several years to understand that my constant temple throbbing then was no normal headache but severe migraine attacks, which because unacknowledged then, were left untreated and I had to drag myself for hours for minor chores or homework consequently. So, turning sixteen was no memory, it was only a countdown, a very very small consolation that it was only two more years until I turned eighteen and could speak for myself, fight for who I wanted to marry. Only seven hundred and thirty days more. In times like these I became an avid practitioner of faith. So I prayed, immensely. I befriended God, complained to Him, confided in Him, planned with Him. He was my saviour and He I believe led me to a very unique defence mechanism to cope with the mental trauma imposed on me due to forced isolation. I had read the classic novel 'A Little Princess' in eighth grade and the novel was still sitting on my bookshelf one fine afternoon as I was trying new ways to kill boredom and was cleaning the dust off the shelves. I opened it and decided to reread it. Over the next week I was finished with it nearly when it hit me! I could pretend to be like its lead character Sara Crewe! I could be the little princess who lived in her perfect world, loved by all, envied by none, only to have it all come crashing down one day after being separated from her rich father. In my case I was separated from my lover, but I could pretend all was okay in my world just like she did. So I would drudge along the whole day with chores and studies and glares and taunts of my family. But at night, when I would retire to my bed (because that was only where I would be left alone) I would hide under the covers, I would clutch the pillow and shut my eyes tight and pretend to snuggle into it like I'd in A1's arms. I'd keep my nose on the top of the pillow, pretending to inhale that particular scent, the one that made me feel at home, and that was pretty much I had to settle with for the next five hundred days or so.
As I packed my bag for my international flight to meet my maternal cousins, I heard a loud voice from below the balcony. This was A1's way of informing me that he was near my apartment. He would deliberately gather with his friends below my balcony and play cricket loudly. His clear vocal chords were hard to miss and would even wake me from slumber in the afternoon. Just having him within my vision also had become a treat. My mom was in the room with me. I carefully scanned her face for any signs of irritability at the recognition of the voice that was constantly wooing her daughter (testimonial of nosy neighbour hood aunties), but I found none. I secretly sighed in relief and coyly reminded her to keep her medicines that I knew were in the other room. She left me to fetch them. Now was my chance, of barely five minutes. I scrambled to find a paper and pen. I wrote a quick note:
' Flying to India to meet grandparents and cousins. Will return in three weeks. I miss you terribly! Want to hug you badly but the flight is in three hours. Will leave for the airport soon. Take care. I will email you from there. Love you loads.'
I folded the paper two times and quickly sneaked into the balcony. He was standing right below but talking to someone. I needed to grab his attention and FAST! The letter needed to land in his hands ONLY! But how to make him look up? I couldn't possibly shout his name, that would grab everyone's attention! No no! ONLY HIS NEEDED, NOW! I looked around to think of something and folded my hands in anxiety, only to touch my glass bangles. YES! I was wearing glass bangles and he was standing right below my balcony. It was SO simple! It took off my two bangles and silently dropped them at a right angle. They zoomed down straight to land exactly next to his feet. Clink! A very minor sound, but enough to distract him to see broken black glass bangle pieces falling from the sky. He looked up, FINALLY! Our eyes met for a brief second and I saw longing in them just as he saw in mine. From two storeys above we communicated a thousand lustful messages within seconds without making a single sound! I quickly threw the letter down and he caught it easily in his hands. I left the balcony and mom re-entered my room just then. My five minute freedom had ended. I was so giddy with excitement, glee and triumph that I felt my cheeks were flushing and would give me away so I excused myself to go to the bathroom. I twirled around in circles in there and silently thanked God to have allowed me a romantic interaction, doesn't matter entirely silent, before I flew. I could now feel excitement to see my cousins. The heaviness I felt at my home could finally be left behind! I could have some days without someone constantly watching over me. I breathed a sigh of relief. We departed for the journey by six o'clock. As we boarded the plane at 8pm, my mom looked at me and for the first time in a long time, she told me, ''I hope the new place will bring you and me, a fresh and much needed change. I want you to enjoy yourself there, please don't do anything to upset me or worsen your situation. I want to trust you again and I do love my daughter.'' I just nodded silently, gulping down the lump in my throat and blinking back tears. I so badly wanted her to hug me, hold me tight! I wanted to tell that loving A1 did not mean I didn't love her. Choosing him did not mean I didn't choose to be with my family. The idea was never to hurt anyone but instead to attain a romantic partner of my own choice. But these were sentences I couldn't say, not for a long time. But until then, my sixteen year old self only leaned back into the thick aircraft seat and buried it all deep inside my heart as we took off for India.