I can't read her mind. Not a single thing. Why?
The thought bounced in her own as she sat down on a rattan seat, which creaked softly as she adjusted herself on the flattish cushion. Ain spied the elderly woman watching as she looked around the living room. A brilliant oil painting caught her eyes, enclosed in a lacquer-wood frame and sitting between two black and white portraits of a young woman.
"The pine tree is a dead giveaway, isn't it? My late husband painted that. Took him forever to finish, and by the time he completed it for framing, the tree had grown taller," she said.
"It's very beautiful. The colors just so are vivid. If not for the tree, I wouldn't have recognized the landscape," said Ain. Arman had gone to the toilet, leaving her alone at the mercy of the woman before her.
He joined them a few minutes later, a sheepish smile on his face. Sat opposite her on a two-seater.
"How are doing, Aunt Maisara? Sorry I couldn't call, but I left my phone at home. Was praying that you'd be around so I decided to just take the chance," he said.
"As fine as an old lady of seventy could ever be, Ayai. You, on the other hand, haven't introduce me your pretty friend," she said.
"Sorry, Aunt Maisara. I thought you had already gotten to know each other, at least by name. Ain, Aunt Maisara."
"Pleased to meet you, Ain... Such a sweet name…" she said and waited, looking straight at them.
"We're wondering if we could spend the night here," said Arman, fidgeting slightly in his seat.
His auntie turned towards Ain. An inquisitive look on her face.
"We don't wish to intrude, Auntie, but to tell you truth, I have not showered since morning. Sure feels like I'm on friendly terms with even Sappee."
"That beautiful cow of Navakumaran? She's quite famous in these parts, my dear. Come Ain. Let me get a towel and show you your room then," said the older woman.
She beckoned and led Ain to one of the rooms in the upper floor of the house. Arman, they left to his thought as he feigned reading newspapers with pages yellowed, echoing the cherished memories reverberating from the walls.
****
Shivering with every cascading flow of cold water over the inches of her body didn't mask the delight and relief she felt as though she was washing away years of accumulated filth.
Aunt Maisara had earlier shown her room and then apologized profusely there was no adjoining shower. Typical of old houses for such facilities not shared, she said. At least her late husband had the foresight to have it away from the kitchen which others seemed to favor.
"We had to install a pump as the water supply isn't made for the increased number of homes. Still works to this day but it can get erratic at time," Aunt Maisara said.
A brief initial spurt of water from a possible air pocket, the shower worked fine enough. Tentative at first in taking her clothes off inside the spacious bathroom, Ain scanned the house and found Arman asleep. Aunt Maisara was still invisible to her, but she didn't feel concern. Not with her first bathe waiting. Ain figured out the hospital did the minimal in cleaning them up regularly.
The towel Aunt Maisara gave her earlier hung on a piece of wire stretched across the bathroom, an arm's reach away. A bar of soap and a bottle of shampoo sat on a semi triangular, wooden platform jutting out from the wall.
She kept track of Arman. Knew those who had followed them to the roadside restaurant had bookmarked him. Ain erected a wall inside his mind where she too became an outsider with the most minimal access. She sneaked a peek, saw Arman dreaming of Sappee. Not surprised to see she, too, was in his dreams, a vision she quickly replaced with the boy Navakumara. He had not told Aunt Maisara anything, his mind a mess of several permutations on the difficulties they were in.
Just this one time, girl. Remember, you're helping him.
Accessing a bit of his older memories, Ain drew out his much-cherished childhood experiences. Playing kites in the open fields of the village. Splashing around catching fish in the muddied waters of the paddy fields. She smiled as his thoughts left the murkiness of their quagmire to the more wondrous side in his mind.
Comforted by the cold shower, Ain began extending her scan to the whole neighborhood, moving from house to house. She found it populated by mainly the elderly, a handful of young adults and a smattering of teens and young children. They lived simply, the rice harvested sold to a nearby rice mill twice a year, reared chicken for eggs and goats for milk, and grew vegetables for their own consumption.
Reconvening her mind scan and feeling more in control of herself, Ain sought again to read Aunt Maisara's mind.
Could it be she is also a telepath? Is she reading me while shielding herself?
For the first time since her awakening, Ain felt an intense sensation that rivetted her whole being. She had felt omnipotent with her abilities and had begun to fear losing her humanity for a while. The deep sadness she had experienced following the death at the bank had long disappeared. As did the act of pulling the plug of another telepath. She remembered the calmness within her then. Sheer callousness that frightened Ain. Questions in her mind as to the kind of person she was before.
Their arrival at Arman's childhood playground was well-timed for her sanity.
A village so nondescript Ain's mental scan was filled with murmurs that mattered little to anyone else yet shone like beacons for everyone there. The serenity of the village's mindscape tugged at her heartstring and drew out from within her a deep longing of something sorely missed.
The cool shower helped her relaxed tired limbs. Their patter on the tiled floor delighted her other senses and put her at ease with what she could do. Under the mist of the water droplets, Ain discovered she was able to also pull her mind scan inwards, exploring new nooks and crevices of her own memories.
Recalling voices of children playing around her. Splashing water amongst themselves. She was with them. Joyous laughter tapering off to deathly gurgle and complete silence.
When was this?
A soft knock on the bathroom door startled her, a quick scan discovering nothing, a void both surprising and enchanting. Ain knew it was Aunt Maisara and her voice confirmed it.
"My dear, I've put your change a of clothes inside the room. Did you just buy them this morning? Smelled like they were straight from the racks. I'm preparing an early dinner. Can you take spicy food?"
"I think so, Auntie. Thanks."
"Poor Ayai is knocked out, I'm afraid. The journey must have really taxed him. Do you need anything else, Ain? Shavers, talcum powder?"
"I've got everything I need. Appreciate the thoughts though."
"Okay, dear. Do join me in the kitchen when you're done. I've so much to ask you…"
"I've so much to ask about myself too, Aunt Maisara," she murmured, her voice soft, masked by the trickling drops of water.
Accept it Ain. She's invisible to your reading. You do have limits after all.
She turned off the shower and reached out for the towel, its fluffiness providing her with another delight as she wiped herself dry. The door of her room partially opened. Ain walked in to see a single bed, flanked on each side of its steel headrest by an open, two-tier wooden cabinet; the duvet, turquoise blue in color, with matching pillowcase and bolster propped just below it. She saw the Supermarket's plastic bag on top of the mattress and next to it, a prayer gown, pure white with thin yellow ochre borders, sitting soft on a prayer mat.
She stood facing a dressing table with a tall mirror. Her reflection stared back at her, hair wet and tangled. Lithe body wrapped from the top of her bosom to slightly above the knees inside a light green towel. Eyes, hazel.
Who are you and how will you explain your being here to the woman waiting in the kitchen?
Ain started to get dress, fishing out a red sports bra and matching undies from inside the bag.
One thing at a time, Ain. Let's see how things go from here on.
****
A waft of the most enchanted aroma enthralled her the very moment Ain stepped into the kitchen. She saw Aunt Maisara standing at the sink, washing something, the tap's gushing water flow broken by the quick movements of her hands.
"What are you cooking, Auntie? Smells so good…"
Hearing the question, the old woman turned off the water, turned to Ain. In her hand was a bowl with what looked like catfish.
"Do you city folks eat freshwater fish? These were caught this very morning. Still flapping around when the boys dropped them off at Pak Mat's," she said.
Maisara set the bowl down on the countertop. Next to a blender half full of light reddish paste, and a plate of brinjals, condiments, uncut onions.
"City folks, Auntie? What makes you say that?"
"You are way too pretty to be anything else. Come help me prepare this. You can slice the items for sautéing," she said, working on the catfish.
They worked in comfortable silence for a while, then came the dreaded moment she had nervously anticipated as she heard Aunt Maisara's question.
"So how did you meet Ayai? Are you a close friend?"
"Truthfully Auntie, I don't really know Arman. This is the first time I'm with him. Urmm, I don't mean with him, more like …." she paused, unable to proceed.
The expected question still caught her off balance. Ain heard a chuckle from her host, and then a soft, soothing response as though it didn't matter she couldn't come clean.
"Calm down dear. Let's just starts with introductions then, shall we?"
"That's the thing, Auntie. I really don't know who I am. Ain was the name I woke up to," she answered, stopping as she saw a surprised look on her host. A whisper of sadness.
"Oh dear…. I am so sorry, Ain. My apologies. Here I am going all gung-ho about getting to know you better. You poor girl…"
"No apologies necessary, Auntie. I don't feel lost. Excited, more like it. I feel like a child reborn. Learning and making new discoveries every waking minute. It's as though I'm being given a second chance."
"You're a patient from the hospital Ayai works at?"
"Yes. Woke up last night from months long coma."
Ain pondered opening herself up to the graceful woman standing before her. Then deciding the less she knew, the safer it would be.
"He thinks he knows the place where I could probably get some answer as to who I really am."
"So like Ayai trying to be everything to everyone," she said adding, "He's a good man, Ain. Where are you headed? The capital, I suppose?"
"Not really. We're headed to Putrajaya. It is kind of a longshot as Ar… I mean, Ayai, said he could only recall that reference point in my case. The people who sent me to the hospital apparently wanted to keep my identity a secret."
"Really? Such a cloak and dagger situation. Are you some sort of a spy, my dear? The female Bond, perhaps?" she chuckled, added, "Never mind me, dear. I'm afraid I've been watching way too many movies."
Maisara paused her preparations to get some turmeric powder from a shelf which she dabbed on the cut fish.
"Do you remember a loved one? A husband, a child? Are you married?"
Moving to Ain's side, the old woman took her guest's hands in hers.
"If you're looking for any ring marks, I'm afraid there's nothing," said Ain, smiling.
"Yes, I can see that dear. You do have the hands of someone who went through tough times. The hands of a fighter. My late husband had them as he was into martial arts. Practices the moves every moment he could. Do you feel any sense of loss, Ain?"
"I do, Aunt Maisara, but not in the way you might be thinking. More like taken away from a place of solace. Awakened when you're at peace with yourself," she said.
Ain withdrew her hands from the older woman, uncomfortable with the prolonged intimacy.
"And your feelings towards Ayai? None?"
"I'm… comfortable with him. He is the only other person I met after waking up, and the one who's been helping me since."
"Ayai's a good man. I've been forever trying to match make him, but the village is… Well, only us old folks and the young ones around nowadays. Too few in young women for me to introduce."
A sigh came from Aunt Maisara, as her right hand, in a deft, swift move, removed a few strands of hair covering Ain's eyes.
"The moment I saw you, I thought, well, finally he got lucky. I felt so glad for him. I suppose I'm hoping to see him married before I die. Do you know his parents both died in a crash? Terrible day…. Such a tragic loss," she said.
Ain said nothing, just a slight nod. She moved on to the ginger and galangal, finding a comfortable rhythm in her slicing them. Saw Aunt Maisara glancing at the way she's treating the condiments and began to wonder if she was doing it wrong.
"I'm not supposed to slice them, is it?" she said, stopping momentarily.
"No, no, no…. Goodness me. You've doing fine, Ain. I'm just admiring your handiwork. So natural. It's a lost skill, you know. People are now blending everything. Shortcuts. I look at you and I see myself years ago, helping my mother. Those sure were fun days..."
"It's the pressure of modern-day living, I know. Even here, where the pace is slower, the hours just rush past you. Sometimes too fast you're gasping for breath," she said, motioning Ain to hand over all she had worked on.
Again, Ain tried to read her host's thoughts. Hearing then the softest of murmur emanating from Maisara. It dawned on her that the old woman was in a similar state of nothingness she herself had been in before waking up to existence.
Ain almost blurted out a squeal in delight to elicit a bemused look from her host, bewildered on the reaction from the young woman who for a few seconds was seemingly lost in her own world.
"Day dreaming, Ain?"
Smiling broadly, Ain stood up, walked over and hugged Aunt Maisara, her eyes welling with joy. A wave of warm emotions she thought she had lost rushing through her mind. For once, the old woman was taken aback by how things turned out and didn't respond, Ain not letting go her embrace. Right on cue, in walked Arman.
"Wow. Can I join in?" he asked, grinning.
Ain finally let go, wiped her eyes, beamed at Arman.
"Of course not. Women's only moment."