"ASHA?!" IVANYA WHISPERED her name, almost painfully. Ashna had no idea what to say when this afternoon her phone rang and Ivanya was the one who called. It had been almost a year since they talked over the phone, every time they met, there were just plain texts.
Time and location.
Books, notes, PDFs and tests were what kept Ashna busy every afternoon. She loved studying, for things were definite, known and understandable to her. She doesn't know what she would do if not for studies and books.
She loved to study.
This evening when the sun shone so bright it could cause burns, showered such lights that can make one go blind, her phone rang with the name of her most beloved but lost sister.
Ivanya.
'What could have happened?'
Ashna almost felt numb. Ivanya never called. They had talked over the phone and met for one and half years after Ivanya decided to just not call. No contacts, nothing. Only minimal calls here and there. Since things became so complex and Ashna started hating her sister.
Life had turned bitter just like that. Ashna felt nauseated and broken at the condition Ivanya so desperately took herself into.
She was disgusted with her father when he asked Ivanya to return to hell even when she was half dead already. She detested her mother for letting Ivanya choose a life like that, and then letting her go. Ashna hated Ivanya.
Ivanya used to call her mother. She did, for the first few months, until almost a year after her marriage. Most of them were unanswered. Those which were picked lasted only a few minutes.
A daughter who bickered hours about things to her mother now only was allowed a few minutes to talk. And those minutes, Ivanya savoured.
Each day, every minute, she only asked for pardon. She only wished to gain the love and trust of her parents she had lost. How helpless it is for a child to lose their parents in want of love? Ivanya was doomed. Ivanya was almost abandoned. And then there not even was an almost.
The calls stopped.
For a year, her family barely had an idea how Ivanya was. They knew she lived in the quarter thirteen, bypass road with her husband. But they almost forgot that she was their daughter.
Ramya, even if hideously, found of Ivanya's conditions from the once every two to three month meetings Ashna had with Ivanya, all away from home. All when Shekhar was not there.
She could have tried to show no mercy, and no love but Ashna had not missed the tears she cried remembering her daughter, and at her poor condition so many nights, all alone in her room. Ashna hated herself for not being able to cajole her own mother. She just walked away like she did not see the tears, like she did not hear the sobs. It was as if the wind cried.
Full rings and the call died.
Ashna got back to writing her notes for the political science chapter, western political thinkers. Her eyes darted to her phone on her side which she pulled away to her laptop screen. She swallowed. Her heart ached but she tried to focus.
Fifteen minutes later, her phone buzzed again. Rang and Ashna's eyes itched to cry tears that were dried up long ago. She was now at a place where she could not just cry. God forsaken, this hurt more than tears did.
She swallowed, kept her pen down on her notebook and closed it before sitting straight on her bed. Her room looked cleaner compared to her bed which had books, laptop, and stationary splattered around. At the last ring, she picked the call.
"Asha?"
There was so much pain in her voice, and the fact that Ivanya questioned if it was really Ashna when she had always proudly, confidently called "Asha" broke any piece that was left in her heart.
The hmm Ashna spitted for confirmation was almost a sigh.
"How are you, Asha?" Love poured out of Ivanya's mouth even when the words sounded weak.
"Better than you at least," Ashna said plainly, in a tentatively taunting tone, "Ivanya."
To her surprise, she heard a laugh. "I am glad, " Ivanya murmured through a chuckle and for a moment, Ashna felt her sister had really gone insane.
There was silence for a moment. Both of them just held their phones. Silence only. Weak and bothering silence from Ivanya's side while disgusted, hateful and self-deploring silence from Ashna's side. No matter how much one tries and thinks and tells oneself, you can never truly hate someone you love.
Ivanya was somebody Ashna cherished the most. My sister this, my sister that, she was never tired of talking about her, even sometimes boasting of her qualities, bickering about her softness. It was her. All the time.
And suddenly Ashna had no words to say which whispered Ivanya in any way.
That day Ivan asked of her, Ashna's mind twisted and the only thing she muttered was, "married," and later she had added , "away" in a whisper so small Ivan would not have even heard. But he knew better than to prick her about it. He knew Ashna.
"Maa," Ivanya broke the silence and, "-- is not picking the phone."
Ashna swallowed. Darkened nights that claimed salty tears of her mother came rushing down the forbidden silhouettes of her mind.
"I called five times," Ivanya chuckled to herself. It was sadness engulfed between rose petals. Which have been at times either cut, bleeding or bruised rose petals.
"She wouldn't have seen," Ashna lied, almost immediately.
If there was anything left of the flowers from wilting, Ashna wanted to save it.
"Hmm, I hope the same," and Ivanya would have smiled at her innocence or known try, for they both knew the reason she was left desolated.
She was the flower plant wilting in the pot itself. No sunshine, no moisture was saving her. And there was no warmth to keep her alive. Only cold. Deep, ruining cold.
"Will you come meet me, Asha?" Ivanya asked, and then hissed as if her own hand grazed her violet and indigo bruises; the blues in her mind.
"What home?" Ashna spitted venom. "Stop lying Ivanya!"
To yourself at least.
She did not say but it was understood.
"Do you remember when we used to go to school together," Ivanya changed the topic as always. She knew to run away, to ignore, to behave as if nothing happened. When all of it was only crashing down.
But she would start talking of the past, the one which was really so sweet that it made the cruel present hurt.
When one has known care, warmth, and the caress of love, then the pain of not having them later on is incendiary.
"You never wanted to go to the school in the beginning, I had to carry you on my back the first few days," Ivanya chuckled. For the first time in years, Ashna felt it was really her sister laughing.
"And then you also bought me chocolates after school," Ashna's voice withered, "I remember."
Ivanya laughed, reminiscing and talking to Ashna of those days when they were the best of sisters, when life was full of happiness. When pain knew not to wither them.
When they knew not to be withered by pain.
Ivanya spoke of the tricks, pranks and little actions Ashna pulled and it made her laugh. She spoke of how aggressive, bold, confident and athletic Ashna was and how it always drove her to problems. And Ashna remembered how Ivanya was the one always saving her.
Ivanya was the favourite of the teachers. The talented, soft and kind student. Ashna always got saved on her accord.
And now there were them. Ivanya frail as a flower withering slowly to death. Ashna, a silent and saddened human at most.
"I miss those days,'' Ivanya whispered.
Ashna sadly hummed in agreement.
No one more than her missed those days. No one more than her wanted those days back. No one more than she knew they were gone.
Lost, to be never found.
"Ashna?" Ivanya called, wanting to say something. It seemed throughout the call, she wanted to say or tell something, but thought better than that. Or worse, maybe.
"You are okay, no, Ivanya?" Ashna asked, for the first time in the almost an hour call, which was just a dream maybe. She could not believe it.
Ivanya's guts twisted inside her, her stoned heart melted. She wanted to run into her arms and cry. But only a weak humm she whispered, followed by a sigh so loud Ashna could hear it on the phone.
"I-" Ivanya tried.
Ashna held onto her phone. She must have hated, detested Ivanya but she was so happy, so relieved she called. Her eyes were aching and she did not want to let go of Ivanya, if she could. But she always felt helpless.
"Ashna, " Ivanya took a long breath as she spit words she had not said for so long, words that needed to be said. Words which meant the withering flower desired to save herself.
"I want to get out of this—", there was a pause, a thoughtful pause.
She said the last word as if it took all of her to say it, for all it was to her, "-- marriage."