Under The Mango Trees

Chapter Twenty Four : In Between Light And Shadow

I saw Lila's white dress billow like a flurry of cloud as she sat in her Audi before I could inform her that my relatives were conservative and her strappy dress was oceans away from their standards. I saw her unwittingly settle in, tucking a stray, wavy strand behind her ear and opening Instagram on her phone. I had watched her empty half a bottle of hair cream to tame her hair which had poofed up due to humidity. I was pretending to sleep then, just to see how she acted when no one watched her, no one to please. It was funny to see how long the carefree Lila stared at her reflection until she caught my stare in the mirror and threw the half-empty bottle at me. And I found myself saying (to which she giggled hard), "If life was always this beautiful, I would never dream."

She had said, "You mean sleep."

"Ready to go?" I heard Manu approaching me, he was absently playing with the keys of the car.

"Sorry, I just remembered that I forgot to carry some stuff. Give me a second." I rushed back into the villa, grabbing the bags of snacks that my mother had prepared for her siblings. She would deep fry me if she found out that I forgot to hand those precious goods to my uncle and aunt. Just as I emerged out of the room with the two, stuffed plastic bags, I saw Raul walking from the opposite end of the corridor . . . Oh, God. For the first time in my life, I had woken up early with Lila so we could abscond to my relatives' place without Raul or Anthony's interference. I became aware of my thumping heartbeats as the distance between Raul and I closed, so much so that the plastic bags rustled against his legs. But that was it. Neither did he ask me anything nor did he spare a glance at me. That was his way of making me feel insignificant as if I was always the shadows thrown by Lila's blazing light.

But soon enough, I felt my insides function normally again as I passed him safely, pitying that he didn't know light and shadows went hand in hand.

"Not that song again!" I let out a false exasperated sigh, watching Lila's shoulders shimmy at Ik Junoon song. "I will be so sick of this song by the end of this trip."

"All your songs just makes me cry! You have the saddest playlist ev-ah!" She dramatically tossed her head back, her hair spreading like waves on the cushion behind and her eyes connecting to me. I had this sudden urge to bend down and lightly kiss her lips, but Manu was right behind me. She noticed me standing in conflict too because a naughty grin quickly made its way across her lips. And she scooted to make room for me and the snacks. "Let's hear what Manu has in his playlist. Play the songs that you like, Manu! Tulsi and I can never agree on this topic." First, Manu shook his head from embarrassment, but Lila persisted, "I'm dying to hear some different songs!"

In his early thirties, Manu played the Bollywood songs of the '90s, a strong reminiscence of his youth. Adults generally tended to listen to the songs of their youth as if after one crossed youth, they surrendered their entire being to nostalgia. The finest example was producing children and living vicariously through them. And narrating their instances from childhood to their bored offsprings, not wishing for heaven after their death, but for childhood. I wondered what it would feel like, decades from now, listening to the stupid songs that Lila liked now with hair greying on our heads, hers a little frizzy.

We arrived at my relatives' place in less than an hour, the house where I spent my summers since childhood. It was nothing grand like Lila's villa, but the simple two-storey concrete house with a terrace was nestled among a thicket of mango and cashew trees. It was freshly painted in a pumpkin orange colour except for the white, plain cornice. The cloth and beads toran that my mum had gifted years back still hung over the door and the tricycle which was too small for my eleven-year-old cousin seemed to be permanently parked right below the doorbell. I rang it, looking back at Lila who was wandering under the mango trees, her lips slightly parted in awe at the ripe mangoes that were at an arm's length from being plucked.