so...... i feel like some sentences are a bit.. let's just say they're a bit too reliant on the reader's ability to read. help me out! please T-T...
I peeled away the crinkling foil from the candy, the sweet, pink jewel revealed itself which soon made its way to my mouth.
“Amritah! Don’t eat these!” My father strided towards me, his white pants being covered in mud as he walked through the wet soil. Anger and fear hardened his face. “Where’d you get these? Spit it out!” He yelled as he grabbed my jaw and pried the sweet out of my mouth.
The taste was still in my mouth; I savoured my own saliva. My tongue roamed around every part of my mouth looking for a remnant of the taste while my father shouted at me, his eyes filled with fury.
“Never eat anything from them.” He whispered meekly, but his words seemed to be outlined with venom. He took my wrist and dragged me inside our home. He pushed me inside our bedroom; the smell of turmeric and cumin filled the air.
My mother was laughing as my brother ran around the room with a wooden horse. “Sonam! Look after your daughter. I am going out.” My father spared me a glance before leaving, a small smile on his face as he bid goodbye.
A quiet sense of warmth filled my heart. I sat on the wooden ground, letting the aroma of the khichdi engulf me, the warm taste of nuts and rice already filling my mouth. I thought back to the taste of the sweet I had savoured a while ago; it held no place against my precious yellow rice.
My mother placed plates of rice on the table, a warm smile on her face as she sat down on the floor while I and my brother sat on the chairs. “I tried something different today; I hope you both enjoy it.” She mentioned before standing up and opening the steel wardrobe that was adorned with scribbles from my brother and stickers I found on the road.
She took out a charkha; it was fitted inside a neat box. She said it was called the peti charkha. She had a smile on her face as she placed it on the floor. “You two need new clothes. We must work faster this time.” She grinned before sitting on the cold floor, a dedicated look on her face as she spun the wheel.
I was more immersed in eating, the hot rice and nutty flavours melting on my tongue. It had a taste nothing could ever replace. My brother devoured his plate, a small smirk on his face as he teased me. “Amritah Di lost! I won!” In an attempt to shut him up, I curled my fist and hit his head.
He ran away laughing. My mother furrowed her eyebrows at my action. “Don’t hit your brother.” She quietly said her eyes were more focused on maintaining the decorum the charkha required. I nodded as my eyes went towards my plate, pouring my attention on the warm food on my plate.
“Di! Who are these people? Why are they yelling at Chachi?” He asked, his tiny feet trying to support him as he tried to peek over the windowsill. My mother almost stopped breathing. “Might it be that they are relatives of hers?” I replied, a logical explanation in my mind as I continued swallowing.
“Amu, Raju, come here.” She said, a sense of fear dripping from her words. She quietly closed the peti charkha and closed her eyes before cramming into the deepest parts of the wardrobe and locking it. My brother ran towards her; she embraced him into a tight hug before loosening her grip and looking at me. “Amu.” She called out; a weird feeling of melancholy filled my heart as I wrapped my greasy hands around my mother.
"I love you, Amu. I love you, Raju.” She kissed me and my brother on the cheek; tears slowly filled her eyes. I couldn’t understand why my mother was crying, but all my heart wanted to say out loud was express how much I loved her too. No words came out of my mouth; any that tried melted on the tip of my tongue.
Our wooden door burst open, pieces flying onto the bed, and men in khaki swarmed the house. “Woman! Are you hiding any articles of rebellion?” My mother was illiterate in English; all she could do was shake her head while holding her children close to her. The older man with a grey moustache stared at her figure before whispering something to a nearby man.
“Woman, what is in the closet?” A man asked as he pointed to the wardrobe. My brother burst out crying; he couldn’t handle the overwhelming sense of authority the men upheld. “Woman! Answer!” He yelled as he grabbed her shoulder and pushed her aside. She shouted in despair words of fear and hatred at them in a language they couldn’t possibly understand, as she always told us. Was she talking about our mother tongue or the language of love? I couldn’t possibly know either.
They ripped apart the clothing, bright sarees and pants cluttering the room. My brother leached onto my mother as she slumped into despair, her hands still holding us together. “Khikdi, right? Ah, so disgusting. So uncivilised. " A young officer said condescendingly, a small smirk on his face as he pulled out a candy from his pocket and threw it at me.
The same candy I put in my mouth, whose taste I still remembered. “You’re disgusting.” I said. The man stopped laughing, his pride trampled on. My mother stared at me, whether with astonishment or pride, I wouldn’t know. I wouldn’t know what the man would’ve done, as in the very next moment, an officer yelled out, “You bloody rebel, you dare oppose our words!” as he threw the charkha on the floor, breaking it. I stared into his eyes that lacked soul and said one word: "Disgusting". The candy lay on the floor along with the broken charkha.
