No Turning Back - Part 1: A Tale of Memory and Myth | Thursday Tale No. 12

  The past never truly stays behind; it lingers in our stories, reshaping itself with every retelling. What once terrified us becomes a tale we tell with a smile, until the telling reminds us how real it once was. 

  No Turning Back – Part 1 dwells in that space where memory becomes myth, and storytelling becomes a way of remembering what refuses to fade.

No Turning Back - Part 1

Photo by Nathan Marcam on Pexels.

  “She ran without turning back…asherfusheg…” 

  Miranda’s chill feet sought for a blanket. 

  “Next morning…clit srops…” her stomach held an unanchored bobbling feeling. 

  “Her lock of hair…mouth of a pot…” 

  Miranda’s fluttering eyes opened to the view of the LED light fixtures on the clean white ceiling. Blinking, she scanned the room; she saw her mother and aunt sitting on the red sofa, a few feet beyond her dizzy head; to her left, another aunt, sitting on the spiral stairway that led to the second story of the house, was comfortably assessing a bundle of exam papers. To the right, her eyes distinguished the flushed cheeks of Kaveri (the youngest female in the house that vacation); the long plait of Nadia (Kaveri’s sister), whose backs were turned to her; the terrified eyes of Veda (the favourite cousin), who was covering her gasping mouth; the curly black hair of Brinda, (Veda’s older sister), and the talking lips of Joyce (her very own sister).

  Miranda became aware that she had fallen asleep mid-way through their conversation. She felt a mild sense of blank guilt dawn upon her when she realised that she had slowly begun becoming the first one to fall asleep during get togethers. 

  Attempting to avert her gaze from her cousins, who had paid no attention to her awakening, looked at her reflection on the flat T.V centred between the wooden shelf on the front wall, adjacent to the doorway of the room that led to the ground floor. She saw a dishevelled self, and, balancing herself up, she rubbed her eyes, and straightened her hair into a neat ponytail. Looking at her enhanced features on the screen, she dumbly looked at the colourful lights neatly outlining the seams of the wooden shelf. 

  The left and right slabs of the shelf proudly displayed several medals and trophies secured by Nadia and Kaveri. On the top slab were a row of statues: beautiful maidens, peacocks and elephants, and at the centre was a bronze statue of Ganesha… “No! not a statue, only Lord Ganesha… only LORD Ganesha.” Miranda was always cautious not to call her aunt’s dear Ganesha a statue. Above Ganesha was a single green light, shining steadfast.

  Having fully awakened, and also intrigued by the gory topic of discussion, she rose up, walked into the bathroom, washed her face, and returned with her gleeful, chatty demeanour, and walked straight into the conversation asking, “Was I asleep for too long?” 

  “Nahi,” came her sister's reply in an unsynchronised chorus with her cousin who said, “Yes, for a bit!” 

  “Did I miss too much?” 

  “Not much I guess, babi. Come sit here.” Nadia tapped the space beside her, indicating Miranda to join. “Veda babi is going to narrate an incident from her childhood.”

  Miranda felt a sense of joyful nostalgia remembering how Veda had always had plenty of stories to share. If a poll was to be taken to determine the best storyteller among the cousins, then it would be Veda. Thinking back to her childhood spent around Veda, and her stories, and especially Veda’s version of Rapunzel, she sat down, adjusting her shorts that had curled up as she sat. 

  Veda began, “It was midnight, twenty years ago. I was smaller than Kaveri, perhaps eight or nine years-old. I was wearing those white frock-type petticoats,” she smiled, probably having seen an image of her younger self in her mind’s eye. 

  “It was a vacation, just like now. But there was a wedding,  and many of our distant relatives stayed at our place. It was the night after the wedding. Having been tired, everyone dozed off soon after reaching home. But you see… baking cakes with orange cream biscuits and water didn't make Sakhi and me tired!” 

  Everyone chuckled imagining Sakhi, a mother of their two-year-old niece, and Veda as toddlers playing house-house in the corner of Mrs Sarita’s balcony. 

  “But where was Brinda?” asked Kaveri, not having found her in the pictures of Veda’s narration. 

  “My sister? She was always this old. She always found herself a corner, and prepared a nest for her everlasting thirst for slumber, just like this,” she pointed to Brinda who was arranging three cushions under her head, unwinding her bun and letting it cascade on the other slope of the cushion stack. 

  Smirking, everyone glanced at Brinda who was all set to drowse, claiming the space Miranda had a while ago captured. Playfully agitated, she smiled and nudged Veda. All broke into a chuckle, capturing glimpses of the “now” to carry on their hearts for a lifetime. Miranda felt a little relief at acknowledging that she was not the bearer of the title ‘first-to-sleep-at-sleepovers’.

  “Then?” asked Nadia, who was the spark for this conversation, and remained determined not to let it flow off track. 

  Veda, getting back into her narration mode continued, “The floor of our hall, kitchen and bedroom was packed with sleeping relatives. You see, parents those days forgot about their playful children in the hospitality of others. So Sakhi and I found a tiny space between my aachi and the foot of the sofa at our house, parallel to the door leading to our kitchen. You know how congested the entrance to our kitchen still is, right? So, we had left a decent gap for people who wanted to soo and shi at night. All night, with sleepless eyes, we both whispered ideas on what to play the next day, what to become when we grow up, how to spend the money we get from the fairy we had written flower letters to and so on. Slowly, we dozed off. I can't remember which of us passed first…” 

  “I did,” added Sakhi as she emerged from the adjacent room, joining them after an hour of labour putting baby Saanvi to sleep. 

  Feeling more confident with her childhood confidant, Veda proceeded, “It was midnight, I clearly remember,” looking at Sakhi for acknowledgement who affirmed it with a nod. 

  “Because I was not put to sleep according to my night routine, I felt a tickle in my stomach. I wanted to pee. With my eyes wide open and a bladder slowly getting heavier, I laid there unsure of what to do. I tried holding it in for as long as I could, but after a point I was left with only two options, wet the mat and bear the shame in the morning or wake a peacefully sleeping Sakhi.”

  “Why didn't you go by yourself,” asked Kaveri, who always posed critical questions which had obvious answers. 

  “I was as scared as I am now, Kaveri!” she shyly answered. 

  “And guess what I did?” 

  “Sheeee!!!!” eked everyone, interpreting how crazy their playful Veda could have been at nine.

  Laughing at the absurdity of their assumptions she indignantly clarified, “Wait! I did the latter, okay! I woke Sakhi up!” 

  “How mean y'all are!” Veda playfully frowned. 

  Relaxing, everyone listened intently to her telling them the rest of the story. 

  “‘Sakhi! Sakhi! Wake up!’ I had whispered, ‘I need to pee.’ And she rose with me. We both, holding each other's hands, traced our way across my aachi, through the kitchen door and through the narrow passage holding our toilet and bathroom.”

  “Was the ghost there in the passage? Must admit that the passage scares me a little every time I visit your place.” 

  “Shh! Don't interrupt, just listen,” said Brinda, having heard it a million times from Veda's mouth, and waiting to assess the reactions of everyone when the crux of the narration would be delivered. 

  “I was done and I waited for Sakhi to use the restroom, because I didn't want to set off on another adventure to the toilet. Standing on the other side of the closed toilet door, a cold sweat dripped down my spine when I realised that I was standing alone, in our passage, without its lights turned on, for the first and only time in my life. It would have been impolite to do so when so many were sleeping at your place. At that very moment, Sakhi opened the door, every movement making more noise than ever. It intensified my chills. But showing just a bit of it, we both held each other’s improperly wiped, wet hands tightly, our finger bones rubbing each other’s through our skins, and we traced our way back through the passage, door and across my aachi, and to our spot. Feeling safe amidst the sleeping relatives, I turned around! I turned around to boldly face the dark alley of night, just to prove to it that I can be brave sometimes. And then, I saw her…” 

  A dread ran through her eyes, Miranda quickly glanced at Sakhi tai’s eyes which reflected the same terror.

- Mercy Rebonica