The Ride

The weather kept calling her to the bed.
‘Is it the monsoon?’

Mehak put on her black jeans and a periwinkle tee, both of which she'd borrowed from a friend a couple of months ago. ‘Great! Just what I wanted!’, she sighed, seeing the rain stop through the window. She put on her favourite jumper, hoping it'd make her day better. It didn't work out the last two times she’d worn it. Maybe this time's a charm?
She couldn't afford to miss another day at the college. She packed her bag reluctantly. As she put the last book in, she reminded herself how miserable the last two days were. She got two new zits on her left cheek. Mom wasn't in town. She was constantly reminded by herself that she's nowhere close to being good in making Dal and Rice. She got her period. The cramps were excruciating.
‘Ugh, I hate it.’
She looked at the mirror. She smiled. ‘Put your game face on, bitch!’, she sneered at the reflection. She decided not to say that ever again. Atleast, aloud. The zits were still there. Her voice, surprisingly, didn't sound raspy. Her mascara wasn't perfect. Her jet black eyes, however, made up for it. She smiled. She looked at her watch while she did. She stopped smiling. ‘Fuck!’

Mehak had been raised by her mother alone. Neerja was in her late forties. She was a strong woman. Mehak admired her mother. But she doesn't remember seeing her dad. Her mother wouldn't talk about him much. She would say that they had different interests. That's why they parted. Her mother was always vague about why they split.

Sometimes, she'd start crying. So, Mehak eventually stopped asking.

“I'll just book an Uber”, she concluded. With her tiny fingers, she managed to book a cab within a minute. It took another, for the Uber to arrive.
But as she stepped in, the driver shouted in his impeccable Bihari accent, 'Madam, you are fine with waiting for a couple of minutes na? Another customer is just a few miles from here.’
‘What? Why?’
‘Obviously,if you book an Uber pool, you…’
Great! More humans.
‘... also she drops right after your stop. So…’
A woman? Better than a thirty year old techie who can't afford a deodorant. Way better.

Mehak had always been an asocial personality. She couldn't tolerate people. Especially chatty ones. She hated small talk. In simple terms, she was an introvert.

'Ugh, I feel dead without my earphones!’ she cried. ‘My chances of avoiding a conversation are destroyed.’

The car came to a halt.
A drop dead gorgeous woman got in. She looked like she was in her thirties. Her caramel curls were tied in a messy bun. She wore a blue saree with a bubble gum coloured blouse. Her make up was flawless. The woman wasn't surprised the driver was checking her out. But she was struck seeing Mehak’s face. Like she had seen Mehak before. The silence in the cab made it more awkward to handle.
‘Mehak’, she introduced herself finally.
The woman, still in awe, spoke in a smoky voice, ‘Aaliyah’.
'Brijesh!’, the driver shouted.
‘Bhaiya, can you please go fast? I can't miss my classes.’

Aaliyah kept staring at Mehak for about half of the journey. She finally started a conversation, asking about Mehak's day.
‘Okay.’
‘Just okay? Honey, you should be enjoying your time with some boys. Get in a relationship. Get some perspective.’
Okay, stranger!
‘I'll try.’

Apparently, Aaliyah was a forty three year old journalist. She's divorced. She had a pet cat named Bubbles. Bubbles ran away from her house when it was two. Aaliyah is single.
Aaliyah began to ask some personal questions about Mehak's life. But she avoided them coyly.

As the ride ended, Mehak got down hastily.
‘Bye, Mehak.’ Aaliyah's eyes glistened.
Weird.
‘Bye.’

Mehak started to run. She was already late.

‘Thank you, Bhaiya!’, Anup said.
As he walked into his office, he teared up. He met a special person. After fifteen years. Someone whom he never thought he'd meet.
He wiped his tears from his cheek, and put on his badge with a smile.

It read,
Aaliyah.A
Reporter
Age: 43
Sex: Transgender