Silent Whispers

Chapter 1: A Strange Family

"JAYAAA!!"

"J...Ji Madamji?"

"WHO THE HELL CAME INTO MY ROOM?!"

Jaya fumbled as she watched the towering form of her Madamji. Being just a girl of eighteen, she was taught from the time she entered the house almost ten years ago now, to never interrupt her masters, especially when they were angry. And she learned quickly after, never to interrupt her Madamji if she ever had one of her episodes of rage.

"ANSWER ME!!"

Jaya gulped as she shakily replied, knowing her answer would bring a terrible fight into the rather quiet household. "M-maaji..."

And she was right, for what followed next was something that was both expected and fearsome. Her Madamji's expression turned hard, as she pursued her lips in anger. No doubt, a million curses were probably running through her rather intelligent mind. And without another word, she stormed out of the room and barged into her brother's across the second floor landing.

"Good m- what happened?"

Jaya watched quietly from the doorway, wondering how on earth her Bhaiyyaji, a kind man with a handsome face, was going to pacify his sister. But she knew from experience, that he could. He was the only one in the entire house who knew exactly what to do in the time of crisis, and to Jaya he was the only one who was worth all the troubles she went through everyday serving his family.

"Why are you pissed?" came Bhaiyyaji's voice.

"That's an understatement! How many times do I have to make it clear that no one is allowed to enter my room?!"

Jaya pitied the man, as he closed the file he was reading and turned his utmost attention to the problem at hand. She knew he was a tough man – not because of the solid mass of muscle on his arms that she often guiltily appreciated, but because of all the cases he won in the court. Or at least that's what the news reporter said every time she chanced upon watching TV. And yet, at the same time she also had a distinct feeling that he was helpless when it came to matters at home.

She let out a sigh as she let her mind be flooded with her first memories of this strange family. It was a bright morning in Delhi when she stepped into the house with her mother, but she was greeted with a loud silence that seemed to slap her senses awake. She looked curiously around the room to notice that it was poorly arranged and dusty to say the least.

However, it wasn't the unclean situation of the house that caught her off guard (what was she there for, if it wasn't?), but the adolescent boy standing beside his heavily bandaged mother and solemn sister. Despite being very young, he looked nothing less than a man who stood the test of time. And even at the tender age of eight, Jaya knew that he was the one in charge.

Of course, her mother didn't quite agree with her judgment.

"Don't ask silly questions Jaya!" she said to her once. "You are here to serve them, as we have been doing for years now. Sahib has done enough favors for us already. The least we can do is take care of his daughter – why she is hurt or why her son looks like that is not important. And remember, people don't like to be asked questions. You better do your work silently!"

Jaya obliged to her mother's orders.

However, as the years passed by, she couldn't help but see things that she was sure didn't happen in other households, not that she had friends outside of the small village she was from. For one, Bhaiyyaji's mother, or Maaji as she began to address her, did not get better. She would always stay locked up inside her room, often ignoring the meals placed obediently outside her door or the persistent knocks of her son. Jaya also distinctly remembered occasional visits from various doctors, all who were trying to fix whatever that was wrong. Of course, it made no difference then.

The next thing she found strange was Bhaiyyaji's sister, who grew up to be quite the opposite of the quiet girl she was as a child. For one, she always spoke her mind. Whether it was as simple as how morning tea was made, or how quickly the shares at the stock market plummeted, she had an opinion. And it never changed. She was stubborn and determined to say the least, and not to mention ambitious. Her dreams touched the sky, though of course, no one was allowed to know. She kept everything to herself in one tight little box and threw the keys far from anyone's reach.

Jaya vaguely wondered how her Madamji did it – how she kept herself from falling apart. Never in her entire time as the maid, did Jaya see tears in her eyes. It was as if nothing in the world could hurt her, or as if everything around her stopped holding any importance. Nevertheless, to Jaya she was soul of the house, who despite being a bit too harsh sometimes had a golden heart, except for one big exception.

And it was that Madamji hated her mother.

Jaya deliberated if there was a word stronger than "hate", for she definitely would have used it to explain Madamji's relationship with Maaji. The two ladies did not have a single conversation ever since she stepped foot into that house. In the beginning it was Maaji, who ignored her daughter and now, it was Madamji's turn. And to this day, Jaya didn't know the reason for it. Or that's what she liked to think because at the end of day, as much as she found the house strange, she loved the family that dwelled within it.

Her thoughts were cut short, however, by the situation at hand.

"Meeti you are making no sense," she heard Bhaiyyaji say. "Who entered your room?"

"Who els-"

A new voice interrupted the siblings. "Why is there so much noise early in the morning?"

Jaya gulped, knowing that a fight was now inevitable. She cowered behind the door, closely watching her Madamji who wore a loathsome expression upon seeing her mother enter. It was Bhaiyyaji who spoke first.

"Nothing Maa... Meeti was just asking who went in to her room."

"It looked messy as I was passing by last night, so I cleaned it up a bit."

Jaya could almost feel her Madamji trying to rein in her anger, as she spoke next.

"Khushi Kumari Gupta can take care of herself. I don't want or need random people cleaning up my room."

"But-"

"Bhaiyya, I'm getting late."

"Am I not even allowed to talk to my own daughter?"

"I think you are mistaken Ms. Garima Gupta, but I have no mother."

As Jaya had predicted, it was Bhaiyyaji who interfered. "Meeti!" she heard him exclaim.

"It's true," Khushi replied nonchalantly. "So please, stop trying make me feel bad for someone who means nothing to me."

"Meeti-" It was Garima, who appeared to be struggling to hold back tears.

"Don't call me that! And stop pretending you care, okay? Because we both know how much you give a damn about this family!"

"Of course I care M-"

Khushi let out a sarcastic laugh. "Really? Wow... then tell me where were you when I used to show up to school alone and everyone used ask me why my mother never dropped me off? Where were you when I had to make up excuses to stop my friends from coming over? Or even better, where the hell were you when I used to stay up all night, scared of the dark?"

Garima lowered her eyes to the floor

"That's what I thought," Khushi answered bitterly, a strange satisfaction falling on her face. "So next time Ms. Gupta watch what you say to me. I am not Bhaiyya to get carried away by your tear-"

Jaya peeped in through the open doorway to see her Bhaiyyaji glare at his sister. "That's enough! Meeti you are getting late."

Khushi didn't need telling twice. She gladly stormed out of the room, without another glance, followed by a downcast Garima, who Jaya knew would spend the rest of the day crying.

"Jaya?"

She jumped upon hearing Bhaiyyaji's voice beckoning her. It seemed that he knew she was hiding behind the door, but was in no way angry. In fact, when she nervously edged into the room, fearing retribution for eavesdropping, all she got was,

"Bring my coffee."