Seema is glowing different these days. With both daughters back home- this was almost the first time in three years that all three of them would be together for long. She hadn't realized how much she'd missed her daughters and how incredibly proud she was of them until she saw them that morning. It wasn't anything spectacular in particular. Shweta looking all groggy and sleepy still in her pyjamas, Shruti with her hair (thankfully black) and a little messy, lounging on the living room sofa.
With Shweta draping her legs lazily on the centre table- a habit Seema never managed to scare her out of. They had grown up to be such different women from what Seema had hoped they would be-but somehow, she realized she wasn't less proud of them. She was worried- without a doubt. Her eldest seemed so confident to spread her wings and land in a foreign nation, continents apart. Seema wasn't sure she shared Shruti's confidence.
All she saw was a skinny little girl whose image overlapped with her vision of her daughter now. Maybe it was a mother's vision- may be a mother's vision is always faulty. And then there was Shweta, her little rebel- her once extremely angsty teen who has softened down so much. Seema wasn't sure if she should celebrate Shweta turning mature or lament losing her fieriness.
When she realizes that the girls have no intention of going to a yoga class before she pushes them to do so, Seema sighs. Carefully she arranges her expression to look slightly stern and says, "So, no plans for exercise today, then?"
"Maa." Shruti drawls. "Sit down, na. Let's hear what's going on at the hospital."
"Shruti," Seema says, with a little smile and shake of her head but then catches herself softening. "What's going at the hospital is sickness and death! Two things I wouldn't want my daughters to have. So, will you go to the yoga class now? For god's sake, I've already registered you both and paid for it!" She manages to guilt them effortlessly; the Asian parent in her rising.
"We will, maa." Shweta smiles lazily. "Why don't you join us?"
"And who will put the bread on the table if I loiter around in yoga classes?" Seem asks and Shweta laughs. "Maa, don't you want to join us?"
"Stretch around in different asanas?" Shruti adds along and Seema laughs, despite herself.
"No." She says, after a while and shakes her head. "Get ready, girls. If I don't get you out of the house myself, you both never will."
Sighing, Shweta and Shruti get upstairs. There's a little bit of drama that unfolds right after Shruti dresses up for her yoga class as is prone to happen when you mix words like pink sport bras and mothers. When Shruti walks downstairs only in her sports' bra and yoga pants, Shweta's eyes widen and Seema almost faints. "You're not in Europe, yet! And no, my daughters are not going to walk in the streets in their underwear!"
Shweta muffles a laugh as Seema admonishes Shruti- it felt nice to not be at the receiving end of her mother's scolding for once. She herself was clad in an oversized t-shirt that covered her buttocks and was clothed enough to go for a walk in a conservative regime.
"Are you happy now?" Shruti asks, a little miffed having changed into a t-shirt similar to Shweta's.
"Very happy. I think I've received enlightenment now." Seema says, sarcastically and Shweta giggles.
"Have a great day ahead. Here are the keys." Seema says, as she gets into the car. The girls had decided to walk to the yoga studio. It wasn't very far and they had decided they wanted to become 'healthy'.
"Don't stop for juices and street food." Seema warns and the girls nod their heads. "And Shruti, please keep your t-shirt on!"
"Maa!" Shruti exclaims and Seema laughs as she revs up the Chevrolet and heads for work.
"Shruti." Shweta says, after their mothers has driven away and the dust is collecting around them.
"Yeah?" Shruti asks, unaware of the mischievous glint in her sister's eye.
"You shouldn't strip in front of us like that! Save that for your soon-to-be-husband!" Shweta practically squeals, very proud of her joke.
"Shweta!" Shruti glares at her and huffs. "Shut up, okay! It's not like that. We're going to focus on yoga today!"
"Yoga, of course. Learning how to be flexible and all!" Shweta giggles.
"Shweta, shut-up I swear!" Shruti admonishes her and tries to change the topic.
"So, tell me." Shweta says, finally getting serious as they walk towards the yoga studio. "Aren't you scared about going to Belgium?"
Shruti sighs and she shakes her head. "I don't know. But the more real it gets, the more I worry if I can handle it."
"I think you can." Shweta says, confidently.
"Yeah?" Shruti asks.
"Yeah." Shweta affirms. "What's work going to be like for you?"
"It's kind of an unconventional position." Shruti says. "There's this Indian MNC established there. I am supposed to help the employees to transition easily and such."
"What about your transition though? Who's going to make that easy for you?" Shweta asks.
"Exactly." Shruti says. "There have been people that I've been associating with at the MNC. They have offered me a three-month window for me to travel and learn about Belgium."
"Three months!" Shweta says, her eyes widening. "It's a country, not an examination with a crash course."
"I know!" Shruti says, furrowing her brow. "But I'm excited about it, you know. It's going to be very challenging. But within a few years' I will be better at it."
"Few years?" Shweta echoes. The part about Shruti being gone for longer than a year hadn't occurred to her. She felt stupid because who even takes a job abroad for less than five years?
"Yeah." Shruti says, averting her gaze from her sister's eyes.
Maybe its' the years of sisterhood- the fact that they shared the same womb. Maybe it was just intuition. But something about Shruti's expression, made Shweta stop for a minute. Her heart beating crazily and goosebumps rising on her flesh.
"You do intend to come back, don't you?" She asks her sister quietly.
Shruti doesn't break into an effervescent laughter and thump her sister's back with an "Of course, I do!" The silence stretches between them until Shruti breaks it with a little, strained laugh.
"Ninã." Shruti says, using the tenderest nickname she had for Shweta. A nickname she had coined for Shweta when their father had left. It meant little sister in Spanish- the word she'd learnt from a Spanish song that she hummed to Shweta when their mother was incapable of tucking them into bed and Shweta kept asking for papa. She hadn't used the nickname for so long that Shweta cannot remember the last time she'd used it.
"Nina." Shruti smiles at her sister, "Do you remember this name?"
"Of course, I do." Shweta says, stunned by everything she remembered.
Shruti shakes her head and launches into a monologue about some Spanish singer she had been listening to lately. The conversation somehow turns towards Billie Eilish and oysters; Shruti throws one question after another at Shweta.
Did Shweta know what mussels were? Apparently, they were consumed in Belgium. Did she know that the Okra was an American name for bhindi? Did Shweta know how to prepare hummus? Shruti had been dying to have some. Maybe they should go for pizzas after yoga? But that would be unhealthy, wouldn't it? And so on.
Shweta hums and haws at the right places, playing along with her sister's charade of normalcy. When the reach the yoga studio, Shweta is well aware that Shruti had deflected her question. And somehow, without answering it, Shruti had given her a better answer than a direct one.
***
The yoga studio is just as Shweta and Shruti would have expected Ritika's studio to look like. The upper half of the door is made up of glass and the lower half of wood. The glass is frosted and nothing can be seen of what's going on inside. The glass has a painting of 'The Sun'- a tarot card that symbolized happiness, confidence and clarity. The door leads to a large balcony- an unconventional entry point. There are so many plants in the balcony, with two large leather sofas.
Later, the girls learn that it is faux leather and that Ritika is vegan. The plants are all grown in different looking pots- they've been shaped to look like tortoises, extra-large mugs, kettles and such. There are two large windows opposite to where the brown sofas are kept- they are covered by light ivy vines allowing the light to fall into the actual studio. There's a mauve watering can seated at the other end of the balcony. There are paper lamps hanging from the ceiling and Shweta wonders how beautiful the entire set-up must look in the evening.
"Maybe we should enrol for the evening classes." She whispers to her sister. "Can you imagine how gorgeous the whole thing looks?"
"I know." Shruti whispers back. "Why are we whispering?"
"I don't know." Shweta says in a voice of equally low decibel. "I don't want to disrupt the peace."
The music playing in the background is a Kabir hymn. Its' a modern adaptation that flows mellifluously singing praises to the saint Kabir while sounding like a mix between rock and country. It was from a band called Kabir café- one of Ritika's favourites.
"Shruti and Shraddha, right?" They hear a voice say and they can see Ritika advancing towards them from a door, that lay covered with vines as well. Blue haired, tattooed and the onyx gemstone on her nose ring catching the morning sun. Her voice is slightly raspy and hoarse- like she'd just screamed her head off the night before in a concert.
"Shruti and Shweta." Shweta hastens to correct and Ritika apologizes.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. There are four Shraddhas in my class right now."
"That's a lot of Shraddhas." Shruti says, and Ritika looks at her. "Didn't you have pink hair?"
"I did!" Shruti exclaims. "But I decided it was time to go back to black."
"Whoa." Ritika says, "I still have to get a few colours out of my system before I go au naturel, again!"
"Which colour are you thinking of next?" Shweta asks, the conversation between the, flowing very easily.
"I'm thinking orange and gold. But I'm not done with blue yet." Ritika says. "You got a great nose, you know. It's tiny and perfect." She adds, looking at Shweta.
Shweta laughs, the sudden compliment surprising her and pleasing her. "Well, thank-you. I love your hair."
"Maybe you should dye yours too." Ritika says, "Find a colour that makes your features pop out! Like your sister with her pretty green eyes and pink hair."
The conversation continues between them and it surprises them how easily Ritika slides in compliments in her sentences. It wasn't just the two of them- when other students start coming in, she stops and talks to all of them. She compliments a young mother dying to reduce her belly- tells her how luscious her hair looks.
The mother practically glows- you could see she hadn't felt attractive in a long time. She talks about protein shake brands with a gym buff and compliments him on his discipline. And for this reason, people practically flock around her like moths drawn to fairy lights. She's got a kind word to say to everyone and even the grumpiest looking Shraddha has a smile by the time the class starts.
The interior of the class is just as pleasing as the outer is. There is a huge, circular painting of sun salutations on an entire wall. It looked like a labour of love by a modern Michelangelo. The sun pours through the little pockets of space between the vines- its' enough to light up the room but not enough to be a hindrance. And when they've rolled out their yoga mats, Ritika starts the session.
She starts it with a few sun salutations to act as warm up- by the time they're done with their surya namaskarans, they're already sweating. With each pose that they fall into, she elaborates on the benefits of the pose. It seems crazy how flexible Ritika is- her body bending into unfathomable shapes. It seemed especially surprising because she wasn't lithe and petite like one would expect a yoga guru to be. She was curvy, with ample bosom and waist. However, she seemed so comfortable and confident in her body- moving it with an intuition that surprised them.
Midway through the class, they slip into camel pose- stretching both the spine and the pelvic region. When they open their hips for the butterfly pose- good for menstrual issues- Shweta realizes how stiff she is. Her thighs barely sit on the mat while Ritika is bending over hers. A quick scan assures her that she isn't the only one- most of them were struggling.
By the end of the session, all of them are sweating. The rolls of fat on their body has perspiration beads on it- yet the room doesn't stink. Human sweat by default isn't smelly- its' only when we sweat out of stress or fear it triggers the smell. When all of them lie on their mats for shavansana, the final corpse pose, Shweta can physically feel the relief in her body.
Its' only long after they thank Ritika for her class and assure her that it was wonderful, midway on the walk towards home with Shruti, does she realize she is happy. And that she hadn't thought of Vaibhav even once.
A/n: Interesting energy Ritika brings in, don't you think?
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shortgirlbigbook ❤️