It was the third loud knock on the locked wooden door, through which a long and deep crack ran.
I dragged a sharp breath in, before folding my hand into a loose fist to knock on the door for the fourth time, when the clicking sound of the door emerged. "Hold on!", a muffled voice exclaimed from inside, and I dropped my hand down. Moments later, the main-door oscillated backwards in slow motion, revealing a girl with a pair of gray eyes, who wore an oversized Panda-printed t-shirt and a wide, welcoming smile; one so wide that her eyes shrunk, forcing her eyeballs to disappear. "Hi! Welcome home!", she announced, loudly, and dragged the main-door behind. Awkwardly, I flashed a decent smile at her and stepped foot inside the pin-drop silent apartment, dragging my trolley luggage with me.
For once, Shashi Auntie's choice was somewhat bearable. It was a compact-sized one-bedroom apartment on the tenth floor of an old building, with a mini kitchen and a small balcony which opened to the bustling city of Mumbai. The balcony was definitely the highlight and the most captivating part of the apartment; it exposed the tall buildings and narrow roads to a great extent. I couldn't wait to spend the night in the balcony, gazing at the city; I had a thing for views from the top. The living room was a crammed, four-by-four space, where there was hardly any room to move around because of the huge sofa set arranged right in the middle of the living room, around a rugged carpet, which consumed over half of the space. A 32-inch television was firmly nailed on one side of the white walls, and a set of three floral frames hung and adorned the plain walls; that was it. The living room defined simplicity, still it looked suffocating but it was tolerable; the balcony and its priceless view made every little disaster tolerable.
"I'm Vaishali! You can call me Vaish", the girl, who had chubby cheeks I desperately wanted to pull, introduced herself, and forced me to turn around in her direction. "I'm Dityaa", I said back softly and calmly, in comparison to the volumes of excitement Vaish bubbled with, God knew for what reason and joy! "That is a beautiful name", Vaish was kind enough to compliment it, probably for the sake of formality or whatever. "Come, I'll show you around", Vaish said, and without wasting another second, she wrapped her hand around my forearm and tugged me with her. "This is the kitchen", Vaish said, pointing at the kitchen. "...which needs to be cleaned", her voice dropped in embarrassment. "But that's okay, I'll do it!", the excitement in her voice returned and I smiled. Sets of unwashed plates and dishes filled the sink, and empty boxes of food piled up on the counter; bottles of mineral water and crushed balls of tissues were thrown on the floor. I wondered how the girls survived in that space, without feeling the urge to throw up. Standing midst the disastrous kitchen with Vaish, I felt the need to toss my hair into a top-knot bun, snatch a broomstick and tidy the whole place. But I stood still to my ground, next to Vaish, with a kind and forced smile stretched on my lips, pretending like the dirtiness in the kitchen didn't bother and disgust me at all.
"I'll explain the rules about this fridge, okay. Listen carefully", Vaish dragged the fridge door open, and it was packed with food; ranging from all sorts of vegetables I'd ever heard of to slabs of branded chocolates. "The chocolates, vegetables, plain yogurts and basic food items are accessible to all, alright?", Vaish looked at me, expectantly, and I nodded in agreement. "The lactose-intolerant milk wholly belongs to Chanchal; you'll meet her in a while. Don't touch this carton at any cost; not that it's going to be a big deal, or something, but if the milk in the carton finishes before one week, Chanch will start whining. Poor thing", Vaish sympathized, and I simply listened because I had absolutely no idea where the conversation was heading to. "Oh, if you're wondering why Chanch drinks a special kind of milk...", Vaish paused and looked around, before shuffling towards me. "She ends up with a bad stomach and diarrhoea when she drinks the normal milk because she's lactose-intolerant", Vaish whispered, and it took all I had to hold the smile which itched to stretch on my lips; I didn't know why but it sounded a little funny. "That's too bad", I said, pretending to be worried for Chanch, although I had no idea who she was. "It is, but I think, it's hilarious, at the same time", Vaish said, and I broke into a small smile.
"Anyways, now unless and until you're in the state of mind to suicide, do not touch the crap and poison on this side of the fridge...which belongs to Nash", Vaish shifted her focus back to the fridge, and pointed at a set of bottles; starting from Aloe-Vera drinks to tomato juice and flavoured green-tea. It was the zone I wouldn't even dare to breathe around, let alone touch! "Now, Nash would definitely attempt to encourage you to live a healthy life, she would talk about the importance of exercise and morning walks and yoga, she would even try to feed you poison...", Vaish pointed at the bottles in the fridge, and I giggled. "My advice is, don't listen to her, Dityaa; she'll ruin your life", Vaish jokingly warned, and I smiled. "Nash is an extremely dedicated fitness freak?", I questioned in curiousness, while Vaish slammed the fridge door shut. "She's on the extreme end, I swear! I don't know what she tries to cut-down, though, because trust me, she looks like she's on the verge of dying", Vaish commented, and I couldn't hold my laughter in.
Vaish and I strolled towards the shut bedroom, and she barged inside the bedroom, seconds after violently pushing the door open; I didn't know how Vaish was that energetic early in the morning. She was witty, energetic and radiated good vibes; I loved her already!
The bedroom was slightly bigger than the living room, thankfully, and it was far more spacious. Two bunk beds were nailed on either sides of the wall, a dressing table stood tall in one corner of the bedroom and a gigantic, mahogany wardrobe filled one side of the room. The walls were painted in white, which allowed the maroon curtains to stand out glaringly. I scanned the bedroom in silence, when my eyes fell on a collection of pictures taped on one side of the wall, beside a lower-bunk bed. The face was familiar, extremely familiar; it was Darshan Raval...captured in three-sixty angles and framed on the wall with much love! I studied every picture on the wall closely, when I laid my eyes on one picture where Vaish right next to Darshan, and hugged from tight from the side; both of them had the widest of wide grins, which stretched from Asia to Africa, literally. "Are you Darshan Raval's fan?", I turned to look at Vaish, and the second the words left my mouth, Vaish's jaw dropped. "Oh my God! Oh my God! You love him, too?", Vaish gasped. "Aloo, you misheard her question. She asked if you are his fan", a tall and thin girl, who struggled to wrap her Hijab around her head, turned around. "She is a die-hard Darshan Raval fan; sometimes, it becomes hard to live with her", the girl with the Hijab rolled her eyes and I simply smiled. "Oh, by the way, I'm Nashiha; Nash, in short. You must be Dityaa", she smiled at me, and I answered with a nod of my head. Vaish was right about Nash; she was someone the wind could blow away, conveniently.
Unlike Vaish, Nash had extremely plain and simple features, but there was something about her – that I couldn't exactly point out – which made her look different; maybe it was her raised cheekbones, or flat nose, or Chinese eyes! "And that's Chanchal, our baby, literally!", Nash pointed another girl, who curled up into a ball on the bunk-bed and soundly slept, hugging a fluffy cushion against her chest. "Chanch is running on high fever. Make sure she eats something when she wakes up", Nash instructed Vaish, and picked up a stuffed black backpack. "And you make sure you eat something on your way, Cuddles. Don't stay out for too long, come home before ten", Vaish said back. "Not happening today; I have truckloads to do", Nash informed, unplugging her iPhone from the charger. "Hey, we'll catch up later, alright? I'm running late. Make yourself comfortable at home. Oh, arrange your clothes in the wardrobe; I have made space for you. And, welcome home!", Nash held her breath, and uttered at once, before hurrying out of the bedroom, leaving me alone with Vaish and Chanch.
The novelty in the air was exciting and terrifying, satisfying and consuming; all at once. I didn't know what Mumbai held for me, but the sense of belonging which my roomies radiated was strengthening. I simply didn't move into an apartment; I found home. Maybe, they were just roommates; they were my family, I thought that moment.
YOU ARE READING
Attachments
Teen Fiction[COMPLETED]. When Dityaa moves to Mumbai with big dreams and a vision, things don't quite go her way. The struggle to survive in an unknown city is real. Living up to her expectations becomes a battle, coping with her worried mother becomes difficul...
