The Wrong Woman

1. Mouna

"And how long does it last?"

My grandma said, "I can't say exactly. It is different each time."

Dr. Arshan got her to walk, rate her pain when he squeezed a particular area and then leaned back in the other wooden chair opposite us. The nurse had to stand since we didn't have many chairs. It looked uncomfortable. "Make sure you massage the area around the knee and her calf, as well. The pressure from there as well as her thighs seems to be stressing the muscle."

"What about medication? She relies on it too much," I said, trying to ignore the brief sensation of pain as she pinched my leg.

Dr. Arshan chuckled. "I think your daughter's right with this one, Mohini." He got up. "Try not to rely on pain medication unless you really need it. A few exercises—when Mouna is around—and massages should be enough for the time being."

As I paid him and saw him out, I went to go back to our shared room to study when my grandma began her antics.

"Mo." My grandma groaned, rubbing her aching knee. The actors were still on screen crackling with every dialogue, except the volume was turned down very low.

"What's wrong, Mohi?"

"The knee again. It feels like someone's tearing my leg apart."

A small grin shook the corner of my mouth but I kept it down. I got on the floor and massaged the area around her knee, most especially her leg, just as Dr. Arshan had instructed me. After a little bit more satisfied groans, her tense shoulders relaxed back into the wooden bench.

She waved her hand in the air. "Much better. Thank you."

"Don't thank me like I'm your helper." She rolled her eyes and I studied her. "I know that was just an act, Mohi. You can't fool me."

"An act? Pfft. Never!" I tried not to laugh at the way her owl eyes were intentionally trained on the TV.

"Admit it—I know you only fake your pain sometimes to get massages."

"I don't know what you're talking about, girl. Now go do your homework."

I got up. "Make sure you keep your leg elevated and you don't sit in one place for a long time."

"All right, all right. You are so dramatic."

"Who do you think I got that from?" I grinned.

"Your grandfather, probably. That man can fake tears like no one else." I giggled, but the sound was very brief. The mention of my grandpa, and the fact that, like my parents, he had passed on, too, wasn't a very pleasant thought. The only reason I hadn't broken down was that it had been years since I saw them alive. My grandma reached out and grasped my hand, squeezing tightly. As if she knew what I was thinking and feeling. I squeezed back and leaned down to place a kiss on her wrinkled, dusky brown forehead.

"I'm going to go study before I leave. If you need me, I'll be in my room."

"You don't want to finish Devdas?"

"Of course," I said in a voice that meant obviously. "It is our favourite movie! But first, work. Can you wait until then?"

"Did you forget who you're talking to? Of course I can wait. I've done it before." A grin passed across her face and at that, I laughed out loud. My grandma really knew how to make me feel like I was missing nothing.

That there was no void in my life.

"Don't forget I'll be late. Raj wants me to stay a little later than usual."

"But why? The blood moon isn't until next week."

The blood moon wasn't a topic we talked about too much, but my grandma had a fascination with it. Ever since she was a little girl, these were stories that her grandma used to tell her. It was passed down for years, from my mom and now to me. I'd loved it when I was a child.