Truth or Dare E-Book

Nadia Kabir Barb

• Herausgeber: Renard Press
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 279

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023

Beschreibung

'Right now, someone else's life was in his hands. He couldn't say whether it was a few seconds or minutes that they both stood staring at each other, but he had never been so scared in his life.' In Truth or Dare we follow, spell-bound, as chance encounters bring violent pasts roaring into the present; we wait on tenterhooks as a woman sits by her husband's hospital bed as both their lives hang in the balance; we watch anxiously as a homeless man begs a woman with her life and career stretching ahead of her not to jump to her death. By turns comedic, heart-wrenching and moving, these stories paint powerful pictures of pain, love and empathy, and celebrate the power we have over one another. From the rain-soaked waterways of London to the bustling streets of Dhaka, Truth or Dare is a stunning collection that spans two continents and sees the best and worst in both.

Leseprobe

Truth or Dare and other stories

nadia kabir barb

renard press

Renard Press Ltd

124 City Road

London EC1V 2NX

United Kingdom

[email protected]

020 8050 2928

www.renardpress.com

Truth or Dare first published in Bangladesh by Bengal Lights Books in 2017.For dates of first publication please see p. 205, which forms an extension of this copyright notice. This expanded and revised collection first published by Renard Press Ltd in 2023.

Text © Nadia Kabir Barb, 2023

Cover design by Will Dady

Nadia Kabir Barb asserts her right to be identified as the author of this work in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental, or is used fictitiously.

Renard Press is proud to be a climate positive publisher, removing more carbon from the air than we emit and planting a small forest. For more information see renardpress.com/eco.

All rights reserved. This publication may not be reproduced, used to train artificial intelligence systems or models, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted, in any form or by any means – electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise – without the prior permission of the publisher.

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Contents

Truth or Dare

Can You See Me?

Inside the Birdcage

Living with the Dead

Truth or Dare

Don’t Shoot the Messenger

The Truth about Sam

Broken

In Case I Die

The Enlightenment of Rahim Baksh

My Father’s Daughter

Over the Edge

The Lives of Others

Let Me Go

The Descent

The Connoisseur

When Crows Come Calling

Stranger in the Mirror

The Skin You Wear

Acknowledgements

Dates of First Publication

truth or dare

and other stories

for amma

can you see me?

The chicken sandwich looked just as unappealing as it had done when the lady in the black-and-grey chequered coat had given it to him in front of the bus stop. The lettuce had that wilted ‘I’ve seen better days’ appearance, and Alex didn’t much like raw tomatoes – all they did was sabotage the sandwich by making the bread soggy. A prawn one with lots of mayonnaise would be nice for a change – or even better, a tasty roast-beef sandwich with a dollop of mustard. What he wouldn’t do for a hot meal right now! Sadly, wishes didn’t fill bellies.

Not that he wasn’t grateful for the food people gave him; it was just that they always seemed to opt for variations of chicken sandwiches. Was there some unwritten code out there that said being homeless meant you loved chicken?

The sandwich was rejected for the apple juice she had given him. He opened the bottle and took a long gulp. It had come as a meal deal with a packet of salt-and-vinegar crisps which he was saving for later. He wished he hadn’t opened the sandwich, as he could have eaten it when he was really hungry. He hoped it would keep till then.

At this time of night the bridge was usually quiet, and he liked sitting and gazing out on to the water. It was peaceful. There was something mesmerising about the London skyline reflected on the Thames – the lights shimmering like fallen stars. It took his mind off having to worry about when he was going to get his next meal or where he was going to end up sleeping.

Two men stumbled past him, talking and laughing loudly. He could hear them swearing at each other as they walked past. They barely looked at him. But he was used to that. His mate Jack, who had lived on the streets for more than a decade, liked to joke that they were invisible – it was their superpower. Unlike Alex, Jack was prone to sudden fits of anger, and sometimes, as if to prove a point, he would shout, ‘Can you see me?’ at passers-by when they refused to make eye contact with him. More often than not it had the opposite of the desired effect.

Click, click, click – the familiar sound of heels on the pavement. He turned his head to get a better look, and saw a woman walking towards him. Maybe he could scrounge some money off her for a cup of tea.

The woman stopped a little further down the bridge and stood perfectly still. The moon was almost full, and it bathed her in its pale silvery light, rendering her as a slender, ghostlike figure gazing across the river. It was strange for someone to stop and take in the sights, especially this late – usually people hurried by with their heads down, tapping away on their mobiles. A few moments later, she started walking again. She didn’t appear to have noticed him sitting a few metres away.

Alex surveyed her with curiosity as she stopped once again and stared out on to the water, immersed in her own thoughts. He watched, open-mouthed, as she put her bag on the ground and bent down to take her shoes off – there was no accounting for people’s eccentricities. When she stood up her face was visible, and the light from the lamp made her appear ghoulish. It didn’t help that she had black smudges around her eyes. She looked as if she had been crying.

It was only when she climbed on to the railing that Alex realised with growing dismay and a sense of panic what she was about to do – enjoying the view was definitely not her intention. For a moment he thought of slipping away and disappearing into the night. She probably wouldn’t have realised he’d been sitting there in the first place. But instead he got up, the chicken sandwich falling to the ground. He tried to be as quiet as possible and slowly made his way up to her.

He wasn’t sure what he was going to do once he reached her. He looked around hopefully, but there was nobody else on the bridge. The two men had disappeared into the night. Where were the nine million Londoners when you needed them? He really wasn’t equipped to deal with this.

‘Hey, lady, I wouldn’t do that if I were you!’ he called. His voice sounded high-pitched, and he winced at its shrillness. His heart was pounding.

The woman turned her head sharply at Alex’s sudden appearance and her foot slipped, throwing her off balance. His hand shot out instinctively, but she grabbed on to the lamp post. The last thing he wanted was for her to fall in because of him. He cleared his throat.

‘I really wouldn’t do that if I were you,’ he repeated. He sounded more like himself this time.

The woman frowned as she peered down at him. She reminded him of a sad panda. Her eyes were sunken, and there was a lost look in them – a look which was familiar to Alex.

‘It’s filthy down there,’ he said, pointing at the murky water. ‘Full of piss and shit.’

Her frown deepened.

‘I’d know, cos I’ve pissed in it – a couple of times,’ he said, trailing off. He wasn’t sure why he had felt the need to fabricate this additional piece of information.

‘Please leave me alone,’ she said, her voice barely audible.

Alex shrugged. ‘I can’t do that.’

‘Just go away!’ She looked out on to the water, as if willing him to disappear.

‘I’m not goin’ anywhere. I was here before you, so you should leave,’ he said, blurting out whatever came into his mind. He noticed she was still holding on to the lamp post.

‘Listen, lady, if you were to go and jump,’ he gestured to the river, ‘I’d have to try and save you. And I can’t swim. Well, I can, but I’m a bit rubbish… I’d probably drown and… and the water’s really cold, too.’ His voice sounded pleading at this point. For a moment he contemplated whether he would actually jump in after her if she did decide to throw herself in. He hoped he wouldn’t have to find out.

She didn’t say anything. She just stood there, balanced precariously, staring into the water.

‘I’ll have to report it to the police, and then they’re gonna think I had something to do with it, and they’ll haul me in and question me and God knows what else… that’s not right, is it?’ he rambled, hoping that if he kept talking someone else might pass by and help. No such luck. There was the option of running to the main road and asking a passer-by for help, but in the mean time he was worried she might jump.

Suddenly her face crumpled and she started crying. Alex was at a loss as to what to do. They stayed where they were for what felt like a long time. Her tears rolled down her face and on to her clothes. He stood there trying not to make any sudden movements.

‘Come on down,’ he said. ‘Maybe you can call someone to come and get you?’

The crying turned into great big sobs. Alex wished he’d walked away when he had the chance.

‘Wha’ever it is, it’s not worth it. Please, just get off there.’

Another few minutes went by. She remained stationary, standing on the railing, holding on to the lamp post.

‘Please!’ Alex held out his hand. He was sweating despite the cold. Living on the streets wasn’t easy, but at least he only had to look out for himself. Right now, someone else’s life was in his hands. It was an overwhelming responsibility.

He couldn’t say whether it was a few seconds or minutes that they both stood staring at each other, and he realised he had never been so scared in his life.

Then she reached out, took his hand and clambered off the railing. Alex’s shoulders sagged with relief, and he wiped his sweaty hands on his oversized jacket. Everything looked oversized on him.

The woman slumped on to the ground and wiped her face with the sleeve of her coat. It left a black mark on the tan-coloured fabric. He wondered whether he should pat her shoulder, but was worried about how she might react. He seated himself on the ground beside her, but not close enough to frighten her.

They sat quietly for a while. All she did was stare at the pavement and twirl the ring on her finger. Round and round. It was almost hypnotic watching her. She wasn’t sobbing any more, but the tears were trickling down her cheeks in black rivulets and she kept biting her lower lip.

Alex suddenly felt an odd sensation in the pit of his stomach and wondered whether it was hunger or relief. ‘I’ve got a chicken sandwich if you’re hungry…?’ he said, remembering too late that it had fallen on the ground.

She glanced at him and shook her head, which was a relief, as he had a vision of himself saying, ‘Hey, here ya go – it’s freshly scraped off the ground!’

He reached into his pocket and fetched out a small bottle of whisky. He had found it on a wall near a pub, and had kept it for when things got a bit rough. This was unquestionably the time for a swig or two or three. The liquid was fiery as it slid down his throat, and he sent up a silent thank-you to whoever had left it on the wall. He offered it to the woman. She wrinkled her nose distastefully at the bottle, vigorously shaking her head, her long black hair swinging from side to side.

‘Suit yourself,’ he said, taking another gulp. ‘I’m Alex,’ he added.

‘Nina,’ she responded, her gaze fixed on the ground.

Silence.

Alex felt the warmth of the whisky spreading through him. It was a good feeling.

‘Why are you out here?’ she asked after a while.

The question caught him off guard and he paused for a moment before saying, ‘Just enjoyin’ the view.’ This was accompanied by a forced laugh. He wasn’t sure how else to answer.

She ignored his attempt at humour. ‘Shouldn’t you be at a shelter or something?’

‘Nah,’ he said, ‘don’t like ’em.’

Nina turned to face him, a furrow marring the smoothness of her forehead.

‘Better out here than in there with the druggies,’ he went on. ‘You gotta be careful, cos they pinch things when you’re sleeping. They can get a bit rough. When they’re high you don’t wanna be around. It’s better off out here.’

‘Oh, I didn’t realise…’ she said, and pulled up her legs, resting her chin on her knees.

‘It’s not all bad,’ Alex said. ‘I just don’t like ’em much.’

Silence.

Apart from during the summer, the bridge was never an ideal place to sleep, but Alex liked being by himself, and a few hours of quiet contemplation every now and then made a difference. The nights were already getting colder, and he and Jack would have to try and find shelter in the doorway of one of the bigger shops. At least that would give them a bit of cover from the wind and the rain – although these days, some of the stores had taken to installing retractable metal posts which came out at night to stop people like him sleeping in their doorway. ‘Fucking antisocial,’ was Jack’s take on it.

Alex picked at a piece of thread that was coming loose from his jacket and sat quietly next to Nina. The jacket had been given to him by the owner of an antique shop. The elderly gentleman was a regular at the Tesco Alex used to sit in front of when he was trying to sell copies of The Big Issue. One day the owner had suggested Alex come to his shop (one which, in Alex’s opinion, looked like it was full of junk) so that he could give him an old jacket and some gloves. The jacket had been a little too big for him, but it was in good condition and, more importantly, warm. He had accepted it gratefully, along with the bowl of soup and hunk of bread he had been offered. The owner had died soon after, and the antique shop had become a hairdressing salon.

‘So, what’s your story?’ asked Alex, not looking at Nina. He wasn’t sure he really wanted to know, but he felt like he had to say something. The silence was making him uncomfortable.

‘My husband left me…’ she said, with a hint of a tremor in her voice, making it crack.

It was Alex’s turn to frown. So some bloke had dumped her and she was thinking of ending it all.

‘Sorry ’bout that,’ he said. He hoped she wasn’t going to cry again.

‘You must think I’m stupid,’ she said, looking down.

He stopped himself from nodding in agreement.

‘We’d been married for ten years and he leaves me for another woman. Just like that. The worst thing is I was pregnant when he told me. We’d been trying for years to have a baby and he tells me when I’m pregnant. Who does that?’ Her voice was shaking, the sadness replaced by anger.

He wished she would stop talking. He didn’t need to know all this. It wasn’t his business.

She echoed his thoughts. ‘I don’t know why I’m even telling you.’

Silence.

‘I lost the baby. I think he was relieved when I told him.’

‘Shit man, that’s harsh,’ was all Alex could say. He was totally out of his depth.

‘The divorce went through today… lost my husband, lost my baby, didn’t know what else to do. Sat in the car for hours, then drove here.’ There was a flash of anger but it was fleeting. ‘He proposed to me here – right here,’ she said, pointing to a spot near where they were sitting.

More silence.

‘Don’t you wanna call your family?’ Alex asked cautiously. The last time he had mentioned calling someone it had brought on a deluge of tears.

She shook her head again.

He thought it wise to refrain from asking why not.

‘What about you?’ she asked. ‘You didn’t run away or anything, did you?’

‘Nah.’

She looked at him enquiringly.

‘My mum kicked me outta the house when she moved in with her new boyfriend. Didn’t have anywhere to go, so started sleeping on the streets.’ He couldn’t remember the last time he had been honest about anything with anyone – even with Jack. Theirs was not a sharing-of-life-stories kind of relationship. They just kept an eye on each other and made sure no one stole their belongings or tried harassing them.

It was a strange feeling telling her about his mum. The pity in Nina’s eyes reminded him why he didn’t like talking to people about himself – not that there were many people who asked, or cared.

‘It’s not so bad,’ he lied.

‘How old were you?’

Alex took another swig from the bottle. ‘Seventeen when they decided to kick me out. My mum gave me fifty quid and told me to stand on my own two feet and stop being a waste of space. Been two years now, and I’m better off without ’em.’

‘You look so young.’

Alex heard that quite frequently. His inability to grow any substantial amount of facial hair and his slight frame made him seem younger than he was.

‘What about your dad?’

‘He died when I was a kid. Don’t remember much about him.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that.’

More silence.

‘Well, we’re quite the pair, aren’t we?’ said Nina, the ghost of a smile playing on her lips.

‘Yup. We should go in for a “whose life is more screwed up” competition. I think I’d win,’ said Alex, letting out a deep sigh.

‘I really am sorry,’ said Nina. This time the sadness seemed to encompass them both. ‘No one should have to live out here.’

‘It’s all right. You get used to it after a while.’ He smiled a tired smile – one that didn’t reach his eyes. ‘You know, you remind me of an Indian presenter on telly. She was on a show called East meets West.’ He tried to recall the name of the presenter. Each episode was filmed in a different countryaround the world, with the host showcasing the culture and cuisine of the various places. He’d never been anywhere interesting in his life, unless Brighton could be considered exotic, and for an hour he had felt like he was part of their journey.

‘Bangladeshi, not Indian,’ she said, almost mechanically.

‘You’ve seen it too?’ he said. ‘It was a good show. Shame they stopped it.’ He still couldn’t remember the name of the presenter. Mandy something. ‘I didn’t know she was Bangladeshi. My dad was from there.’

This time it was Nina’s turn to look at him with interest. ‘You’re Bangladeshi?’

‘Well, my dad was,’ he said. ‘Worked in a restaurant here, met my mum and ended up marryin’ her. She’s English. They had me and then he died.’

‘Don’t you have any relatives you could have stayed with? You know, on your dad’s side?’

‘I don’t think he had any here. His family disowned him when he married Mum, so – no.’

He heard a noise and saw a couple walking towards them, holding hands. They passed Alex and Nina. The woman whispered something to the man and he glanced back at them, but kept on walking. They must have looked incongruoussitting on the pavement. He felt a poke in his arm and saw that Nina was pointing at the bottle of whisky. He passed it to her. She smiled at him, and it changed her face completely. She was a nice-looking woman. He wondered how old she was. Maybe in her thirties.

‘Getting a bit chilly,’ she said, wiping the mouth of the bottle and taking a sip. It made her cough and she grimaced. She didn’t look like the whisky-drinking type.

Alex took out a well-worn beanie from his pocket and offered it to her.

‘No, thanks,’ she said, smiling at him, flashing a row of perfect white teeth. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been to a dentist.

He pulled the woollen hat over his mop of dark, curly hair. The weather had turned over the last few days and it was starting to get cold.

‘So you have no relatives on your dad’s side, but couldn’t you have stayed with your mum’s relatives – or friends – while you found your feet, instead of… well, here?’ Nina gestured with her hands to their surroundings. She looked concerned.

‘I don’t think my mum ever really wanted me, so she dumped me with my gran after my dad died. I think I was four. Lived with her till I was sixteen. When she died I had to go back to my mum. Stayed with her till a boyfriend came along.’

A few of his friends had let him crash on their couch for a while, but it had only been temporary, and before too long the offers had stopped coming. The fifty quid hadn’t lasted very long. His first night on the streets, he had sat on a bench outside King’s Cross station waiting for the morning to arrive. He had never realised how long a night could be.

The best thing that had ever happened to Alex was being sent to live with his gran. She had been the only one in his life to truly care about him, and made him feel as if he actually mattered. Though money had been tight and he had wanted to drop out of school and get a job to help pay the bills, she had made him stay on to finish his GCSEs. As far as his gran was concerned, an education was something no one could take away from you. So he’d studied hard and done well at school. But that was then. Her death had created a hole somewhere deep in his chest. It was a void he never managed to fill.

‘I’m so sorry,’ said Nina. ‘It’s so unfair that someone like your mum gets to have a kid who she doesn’t even want – and here I am, desperately wanting one.’

‘Life’s a bitch!’ said Alex.

‘Indeed it is. Talking about bitches, did I mention I introduced my husband to the woman he’s run off with? An ex-colleague of mine.’ The anger was back in Nina’s voice, but sitting there, hunched on the ground, she just looked vulnerable, and in pain.

‘Well, one day a bloke pissed on me when I was asleep, and another time they set my sleeping bag on fire,’ Alex said, grinning at Nina. She looked genuinely horrified.

Was the presenter called Marina Shah? It was going to bother him until he remembered it.

‘You know, I didn’t come here to… but then I…’ Nina said, looking across the water, unable to finish.

Alex nodded gently in acknowledgement.

‘What the hell was I thinking…? He’s not even worth it,’ she said.

Once again the silence.

Alex wasn’t sure how long the two of them were sitting under the night sky looking out on to the water, both deep in their own thoughts. Only this time it was a comfortable silence.

‘OK, that’s it,’ said Nina, decisively. For a moment Alex was worried she was about to climb the railing again, but she was reaching for her shoes. ‘I think you should come home with me.’

He frowned at her. ‘What? Why would I do that?’

‘Have you got anywhere else you need to be, Alex? I have a flat with a spare room, and right now I could use the company. You can come back with me and have a hot meal and stay the night.’

Who in their right mind would offer to take someone like him back to their home? ‘You’re havin’ a laugh!’ he said. ‘Or you’re bonkers. What if I’m a serial killer or something? You can’t just ask people to go back home with you. It’s bloody stupid!’

‘Well, if you are a serial killer, it saves me from jumping into the Thames – into all that piss and shit, some of which is yours, I believe.’

It was Alex’s turn to smile.

‘Seriously, it’s the least I can do. You did kind of save my life. You’d be doing me a favour… I don’t want to call my family – or anyone – yet.’

Manina Shah – that was the name. ‘Manina Shah, Nina!’ he burst out. ‘You’re her!’

Nina raised her hands in the air. ‘You got me.’

‘This is crazy,’ Alex mumbled, feeling a little star struck. He’d spent many an hour at his gran’s watching this woman on television. She used to have short hair on the show, and her face wasn’t as thin – otherwise he might have recognised her.

‘I only stopped working on the programme because that bastard wanted me to,’ she said. ‘He complained that I did too much travelling. Told me if we were going to start a family I needed to stay at home. Being a complete idiot, I never went back. Can’t believe I gave up my career for him.’ For a moment Nina was lost in thought, but then she snapped back to the present. ‘Anyway, come on,’ she said, ‘let’s go.’

Alex still didn’t move. She couldn’t seriously be asking him to go home with her.

‘Look, the bed is there if you want it… and not that I mean to be rude or anything, but you could probably use a shower…’

Alex took a deep breath. The thought of sleeping in a warm bed was tantalising – and a hot shower? He hadn’t had one in – well, a long time.

‘I don’t know if you like rice and curry, but I think I have some leftovers at home,’ she said.

Curry? He definitely liked curry. ‘Is it chicken curry?’

Nina looked apologetic. ‘Sorry, it’s beef – do you not eat beef…?’

He definitely liked beef.

‘So are you coming?’ she asked again.

He could almost hear his gran telling him not to look a gift horse in the mouth. He got up and walked back to where the chicken sandwich was lying, and grabbed his tattered backpack. It only had his sleeping bag in it, but at least it was his.

‘Is your name really Alex?’ she called, bending to pick up her bag.

‘Alexander Ahmad,’ he said, pulling a face. It was a name he kept to himself.

‘Actually, hang on a second, Alexander Ahmad,’ said Nina, climbing up on to the railing.

‘Hey, what are you doing?’ said Alex, aghast.

‘Hang on!’ She was tugging her wedding ring off her finger. She took a deep breath and threw it into the belly of the river.

He wondered how much the ring had cost. He looked down and saw the chicken sandwich splattered on the pavement. He leant down to pick it up, and, just like Nina had done, he hurled the offending object over the railing to meet its watery grave in the murky depths of the Thames.

He turned to smile at Nina. She smiled back and started to climb down.

As if in slow motion, he saw her heel catch in the metal balustrade. As she tried to yank it out, she lost her balance. Her hand reached out for the lamp post, but she was too far from it. Her body lurched forward, and her scream was one Alex would remember every time he closed his eyes. Her arms flailed wildly, then she disappeared over the side of the bridge.

Alex’s heart was beating so hard he could barely breathe as he ran to the edge of the railing. He shouted her name, but there was only silence. All he could see was the reflection of the lights twinkling on the water.

inside the birdcage

The onions made her eyes water. She chopped them into small pieces, threw them into the hot oil and watched while they sizzled and popped. Tears ran down her cheeks and fell unchecked on to the folds of her sari. If anyone walked in she could blame the onions.

Shabana felt like the walls of the tiny kitchen were closing in on her, as if the room was becoming smaller with every passing moment. The ache in her chest made it hard to breathe. Four walls didn’t always make a home – they could also create a prison.

Gradually the tears turned to sobs and she pressed her hand against her mouth to stop the sound escaping. Her mother always said that keeping secrets was one step away from telling lies. Ma was a wise woman.

The secret she had kept from everyone had given her more joy than she could ever have thought possible. Joy and a sense of power. The baby had been hers – all hers. She hadn’t even told her husband. It had been her secret, and she had wanted to savour every moment of it. It would only have been a question of time till she could no longer hide her growing belly, and she knew that the moment her mother-in-law found out, the baby would belong to everyone else, and she would just be the vessel – a means to an end. Maybe she was being punished for her selfishness.

She could hear coughing nearby, and wiped her tears with the anchal of her sari. She added the remaining spices to the onions – turmeric, chilli, coriander, salt. The smell was familiar and comforting.

Shabana’s mother-in-law was always there, watching, waiting for her to make a mistake – any mistake – so she could run to her son and tell him how unlucky he was to have been saddled with a gadha like her for a wife. Even if breakfast was ready on time, Amma would find something else to berate her about.

She would wait eagerly for the times that both Amma and Abba left the house for a few hours to visit relatives. Those were the times she felt alive – the door to her cage would open, and for the briefest of moments she felt free.

She cut up the vegetables and tossed them in the pot with the spices, then reached up to look through the plastic containers cluttering the shelf. Rokeya chachi, their landlord’s wife, had told her that a pinch of panch phoron added to the bhaji would give it that extra flavour. She found a little left in one of the smaller pots and, heating a small frying pan with oil, added the panch phoron, waiting till she could hear the sputtering before tipping in the mix. The aroma filled the kitchen.

Karim chacha and Rokeya chachi had always treated her with kindness, and on the rare occasions when she was alone, Rokeya chachi would call her over to sit and watch television with her. Those fleeting moments spent watching a film, listening to the latest Hindi songs or just whiling away time talking made her feel like a person. Her kindly and overly nosey landlady appeared to know all the gossip and neighbourhood politics, and relished filling Shabana in on all the goings-on.

Shabana could hardly believe her luck the previous week when her in-laws had gone out of town for a relative’s wedding. They had stayed for three days – three whole days! It felt like Eid had come early.

After finishing the washing and cooking food for the evening, she had gone over and spent an hour with Rokeya chachi, enjoying the drama of a soap opera unfolding on her television screen. They had been munching away on some homemade samosas while discussing where to purchase cotton saris at the best price when she realised that something was wrong. There was an ache in her belly, making her feel sick. Rokeya chachi readily accepted that the pain was from an upset stomach and sent Shabana home.

By the time she walked across the corridor and stumbled through the door the pain had become unbearable and she could barely stand. It had required all her strength to get to the bathroom. She had been helpless, unable to stop her body from rejecting her unborn child. After cleaning up after herself she lay in bed, crying until her tears ran out. She felt like an empty shell. Her husband had believed her when she told him that she was suffering from one of her headaches, and had left her to rest.

A week had gone by, and it was her fault that she was the only one grieving the loss of her baby. How strange that everything could change from one breath to the next.

Another cough. She looked up to see Amma sticking her head through the doorway. Her hair was scraped back into