Short Story
Maya stole out of the flat sneakily, careful to close the door softly to make sure her brother didn’t hear her leave. He was in his room, listening to podcasts with headphones on, but she wasn’t taking any chances.
She needed the leaf, she needed it bad.
She knew her brother was baffled by her addiction and with good reason, she had spent all her life as an upper-class city girl, but she couldn’t help it.
Too young, he said, too cute, too susceptible.
Too deadly, he would tell her. Way too deadly.
Bhaiya, she always tried to counter, literally no one has ever died from these.
Yeah, he would say, but you’re too young, there’s just too much time left for it to wreak havoc. And besides, it’s awful, and really, what the he-
And on and on he would drone.
Maya didn’t mind him though. He was too dear to him, and his heart was in the right place. He was looking out for her, and rightfully so. Even rebellious Maya was aware that her addiction was worsening.
She didn’t care though, not right now, and she tiptoed down the staircase to the tenth floor, praying that she could be out and back before her brother noticed her absence.
And mouthwash, she said to herself, don’t forget the mouthwash. You gotta mouthwash before he sees you.
The lift arrived at the tenth floor and there was no ding-dong. The lift’s bell for the floor had a blown fuse or something, and that’s why she preferred it to her 11th floor lift when sneaking out. No noisy bell to announce her departure.
Maya waited out the agonizingly slow lift ride and sneaked out through the garage door. She was sure her brother had tipped the guards off about her leaving, and they might call him on the intercom if they thought she was sneaking out.
As she powerwalked to the market two blocks away, her brother’s incessant voice played in the back of her head, guilt-tripping her. And she did feel guilty. Her brother didn’t know, but her little addiction was on its way to becoming a Problem. One with a capital P and written in blood-red letters.
She sneaked a lot in between classes (her school’s security was a joke) and she sneaked a lot more when she was with friends or over at someone’s house. Some of their parents found out, and complained, but they were too kind to stop her, and she wouldn’t let herself be stopped that easily.
Still, her brother’s reproachful voice did make her feet falter once or twice, yet she maintained her swift pace.
“I just don’t get it,” he would say over and over again.
“At least it’s not cigarettes,” her father (her ever-loving, all-spoiling, dear old father) would defend her.
“Well, if it was cigarettes I would’ve understood. But this, this I just don’t get.”
She didn’t really get it too, and she didn’t really care either. It was awesome, and it helped with the little stresses in her life, and that was enough for her.
And she particularly felt the need for it today. She had been squabbling with her best friend for a week, and Rokeya had said something particularly mean today. She needed an outlet.
When she finally reached the grocery shop, it was almost closing time, but the bearded old man sitting in the shop allowed her to buy the last betel leaf of the day.
“Mama, give me a paan, please, go heavy on the jorda.”
The vendor huffed at her amiably, and snapped the stem off a large betel leaf, rubbed quicklime on it with his fingers, added a pinch of chopped betel nuts and jorda (probably a bit excessive for a child) and wrapped it the way she liked. She was a regular customer.
She put the whole thing in her mouth with the ease of a veteran paan eater and chewed.
“There you are, I knew it.”
She turned around to see her brother and smiled a guilty, red smile, but he was not happy.
“I just don’t get it with you, where did you even catch this habit, even people in our village don’t do it.”
“Grandma ate them,” she replied, the inside of her mouth already a luscious red.
“She stopped before you were born! And she only had a few when dada had his open heart!” She could sense he was an inch from screaming at her.
“That’s it.”
“Do you even like the taste? I hate it. And you’re only fourteen! That paan will destroy your teeth, just you see. And you are so cute, too.”
Maya walked up to her brother, wrapped her arms around him, and looked up lovingly at him.
“I know bhaiya, I will stop. Promise.”