These three mini-chapters are how I intend to start a novel I've been planning to write. I want to get off to a good start so I would love suggestions on how I could Improve them. I've written and rewritten this part at least five times and I'm still not quite happy with it, so I thought I'll get your opinion. THANKS!
[1]
Today morning you would find her squatting in the corner of what that used to be her room, sobbing. There had always been something about an empty house that haunted her. Empty, as in, devoid not only of people, but of everything. No furniture, no curtains, no refrigerator or TV… nothing except stark white walls and a roof.
The house hadn’t always been empty. Only five days ago, it had been a typical home, her home. But then all of its contents were carelessly stuffed into large wooden boxes and were sent hundreds of kilometres away via big bulky trucks. They would have reached their destination by now, and tomorrow she and her family would join them. Then, they would have to start all over again.
She looked up to where all her stuff had been only days ago, although, to her, it seemed like a century … another birth perhaps, another life. She had watched with a lump in her throat while the components of her everyday life were being treated as expendable luggage. Her parents never understood why moving was so traumatic for her. It wasn’t even as if this was the first time, they had moved eight times in her lifetime of fifteen years. This was normal for the daughter of an officer of the Indian Army; for God’s sake, she was born while they were shifting, from Amritsar to Kolkata. This nomadic lifestyle shouldn’t have been such a big deal for her, she should have got used to it by now. And yet, she stayed transfixed tenaciously in the corner, weeping with her head between her knees.
You see, while she had become used to this nomadic lifestyle, she hadn’t become indifferent to it yet. It caused her unimaginable pain to leave everything behind. She had always been the kind of person who fell in love with the people around her within days of knowing them, the kind of person who never forgot how dearly she loved her friends, the kind of person who found it extremely painful to part with them. No matter how much she tried she couldn’t be the emotionally detached person this lifestyle required her to be.
And so she cried, fully aware that she could not stay in that corner forever, no matter how much she wanted to. Her parents were waiting outside, ready to go to the railway station as soon as she came out. They were trying to be supportive and understanding, they were trying to give her as much time as they could, but after a while, they decided that they had waited long enough. Quiet footsteps traversed the lobby, a tender hand opened the door slowly and the cautious voice of her mother said, “Riya, beta, it’s time to go.”
[2]
Sitting in the back of the olive green gypsy, while the wind swept her long hair across and away from her tear streaked face, Riya tried not to look at all the places they were driving past, places she would be seeing for the last time. However, she couldn’t help herself. She saw her school, Army School Siagunj, as its buildings whirred in and out of sight. On any normal day, she, like any normal student, would not have felt any particular fondness for her school; but you could call it one of life’s cruel ironies that Riya’s school had become incredibly dear to her the day she found out that she would have to leave it soon. It wasn’t the best school in the world, but it was the place that had given her priceless memories over the past three years. She caught a fleeting glimpse of her classroom. Today IX A lacked its usual hustle bustle, its excitement and its boisterous pin-drop silence. The school was closed for summer vacation, so today the classroom was just a lifeless and bleak structure. Today, as Riya bid farewell to it, it looked almost as despondent as her. The wind was whipping her hair across her face frantically now, as if trying to wipe away the tear marks. Riya forced herself to turn away.
“Riya, roll up the window, your hair is going to get all tangled,” said her mother sitting beside her on the backseat.
As the tinted glass replaced the view outside, Riya could see her reflection in the window. She almost smiled at her blue denim jeans and black T-shirt. When her mother had asked her to get dressed today, she instinctively reached to the oldest clothes her closet had. She knew she would need old friends to get through this day. These ones had gone through thick and thin with her. Riya felt comfortable in them and in them, she found solace.
Driver bhaiya drove past the officers’ club. Riya remembered how she used to go swimming and to play badminton there with her friends. Friends, friends I would never meet again. The tears came back and began to stream quietly down her cheeks. As the droplets appeared in her reflection on one side of the glass, the sky sent down droplets on the other side as well, as if on cue. Today, she and the sky wept together.
“What a sudden downpour! I hope the train isn’t delayed,” said Riya’s mother.
“It won’t be,” came her father’s answer, “I called the railway station half an hour ago, the train’s on time.”
Riya’s father was sitting in the passenger seat wearing the uniform and the austere expression that were customary with him. Colonel Rakesh Sharma was born to be an Army Officer. He fit the cliché too perfectly. A neat black moustache always adorned his stern face and Ray Ban aviators accompanied it whenever he went outside. He dealt with all situations methodically, whether they were at home or in the battle field. Today he wished he could console his daughter who had started crying again, but he knew he lacked the emotional skills. Therefore, he let his wife handle it. By a single look through the rear view mirror, Col. Sharma signalled his wife to try to cheer Riya up.
Riya’s mother acknowledged the prompt and said, “Oh come on Riya, stop crying now. Siagunj isn’t that a great place, it’s just a small town and the closest city is Dehradun. You’ve only been here for three years, your friends can’t be that close to you. And besides, Banoli is a wonderful city. You’re going to love it. It’s so beautiful and it’s near the coast, so there are beaches and coves. And you’ll go to a new school and make new friends. You’re not going to miss Siagunj one bit.”
Riya’s mother’s comments did nothing but hurt her even more, but she wiped her tears and gave her a little smile nonetheless. She knew she couldn’t be mad at her parents for being insensitive. Riya didn’t really mind that her mother didn’t know how much she loved her friends even though she didn’t know them since the day she was born. It didn’t bother her that her mother was unaware of the fact that a place doesn’t have to be a metro for someone to love it dearly. There are some things that parents never get, things that they will never understand and things you have to forgive them for.
The gypsy pulled into the parking lot of the railway station. The rain had stopped along with Riya’s tears. Arriving on the platform they were greeted by many of Col. Sharma’s colleagues and their families. All of them had come to bid the Sharmas farewell. Walking through the crowd and wishing all the uncles and aunties she met a good afternoon, she finally saw Nikita. Riya smiled genuinely for the first time today. She rushed up to her best friend in the whole wide world.
Nikita was looking in her direction too now. She was smartest person Riya knew. She was tall as Riya at 5’2” and two months elder to her. Their fathers were in the same unit so she had known Riya her entire life. This had been the second time they had been posted together in one place; the last one being in Amritsar for two years when the girls were in 3rd. Nikita could take one look at Riya and know what was up with her. Today was no different.
“Why the hell have you been crying? I told you that there was no reason to,” said Nikita even when Riya was still two meters away.
“Ummm... Hi?” replied Riya with a heart that had instantly warmed up. Nikita always made her smile, especially when she was trying to be patronizing.
“Yeah whatever,” said Nikita turning away from Riya.
“Fine I’m sorry for being so sad. Excuse me for weeping because I’ve lost the right to call my home, home. Forgive me for loving my friends and school and for thinking about how much I’ll miss them,” said Riya, feigning anger too.
“Fine!”
“Fine!”
Nikita was trying hard to maintain the pretence but a grin had already eluded her. Facing Riya again she said, “But you still don’t need to cry. You know that the friends who really are your true friends will remain your friends forever, and the friends who don’t remain your friends just because of physical distance were never really your friends at all.”
“Okay now you’re just confusing me,” said Riya grinning too.
“Look at you, you’re such a mess. Tell me Riya, when will that day come when you throw away these clothes? You’ve had them for three years! And why is your hair down? You know you have to travel today, the wind will ruin them. Here, take this,” said Nikita handing Riya a rubber band from her pocket.
“You’ve let your hair down too and even you are leaving for Nagpur today,” said Riya indignantly as she tied her hair in a loose pony.
“Can you see the length of my hair? They barely reach my shoulder unlike your elbow-kissing never ending tresses.
"Besides, our train will arrive in the evening and we’re not leaving until then. My pesky little brother is so excited about us getting posted to Nagpur because there will be McDonalds and Pizza Hut there. Urgh!! Can you believe how MNCs are encouraging the contagion of consumerism amongst the younger generation?”
“Ah....” Riya sighed. Typical Nikita. If you ever asked Riya to describe her best friend in three words, she would instantly say the words erudite, fanatical and loquacious. “I’m going to miss you. Promise we’ll keep in touch?”
“What?! How could even doubt something like that? I’m affronted Riya Sharma, thoroughly affronted. You’re talking as if this is the first time we’re getting posted, heck, this isn’t even the first time we’re getting posted away from each other after staying in one city together.”
“Ya...” Riya conceded, “But that was like four years ago, we were little kids then and we hardly ever called each other.”
“And yet, when we met for the first time in Siagunj we remembered each other perfectly. We were best friends before we even said ‘Hi’”
“Riya!! Come on, let’s go!” It was Riya’s father, waving to her to go and board the train. Riya and Nikita hadn’t even noticed that while they were talking, the train had arrived on the platform and her parents were already loading their luggage onto it.
Nikita hugged Riya. “We’ll be fine. I promise I’ll call you. Email me your mother’s new mobile phone number when you reach Banoli.”
“Okay,” replied Riya, “Are you sure you don’t want to join Facebook? I mean, I know about your viewpoint on social networking sites, but it is a convenient way to keep in touch...”
Nikita smiled. “Yes, I’m sure. I’ll call you na, or I’ll send you Emails.”
“Okay, fine, done.”
They walked together till the train and Riya got on it.
Nikita smiled at her and said, “Bye for now, Bubbles.”
Riya laughed. One of the very few things that Nikita and Riya had ever agreed on was that Powerpuff Girls was the best cartoon ever. They had watched each episode repeatedly since they were three; and when its timings got shifted to the wee hours of the night, they had stayed up till three during sleepovers just to watch it. They had even nicknamed each other after the characters. Riya was Bubbles because her favourite colour was blue, and Nikita was the Powerpuff girl whose nature was just like her.
“Bye, Blossoms.”
[3]
Once the Sharmas had settled into their berths and put away their luggage in the AC sleeping class compartment of the train Riya had forgotten to notice the name of, she climbed onto the upper berth to spend some time with her iPod. She had always preferred the upper berth to the lower one. You could have it all to yourself, even in the morning, and it ensured so much more privacy. Listening to Avril Lavigne and Atif Aslam, she started thinking about how life in Banoli would be. She hadn’t even heard its name until her father had come home one day and told them where they were getting posted. All she knew about it was that it was a very small town near the western coast somewhere and it had a large secluded cantonment which made up at least four-fifths of the town. Thinking of all the stuff that lay ahead of her made her want to throw up and jump out of the window at the same time. Going to a place where she didn’t know anyone and going to a new school were not her favourite pastimes. It wasn’t meeting unknown people that intimidated her, she had become accustomed to making new friends by now, and even become good at it; it was the sheer awkwardness of it all. It was so cumbersome saying, “Hi, I’m Riya, what’s your name?” over and over again, having to introduce yourself repeatedly, having to remember everyone’s names and having to ask them again what they were when you forgot them. And then there was unpacking, the large wooden boxes would be opened and the family would have to find a place for the all the things they had accumulated over the years. Riya groaned at the very thought.
A pat on the shoulder brought her back from the arms of her thoughts. It was her mom. Riya took off her earphones to hear her say, “Riya, come down and have something to eat.”
Riya went to sit with her parents on the lower berth and started munching on the cucumber sandwiches her mother had packed in a lunchbox before leaving. Her father was having aloo puri while reading the newspaper. Looking up, he said to Riya’s mom, “You know Rekha, Jassu’s posted in Banoli. You remember Jaswinder Mahani? From Hisar? He’s going to be there.”
“Major Mahani? Yes, I remember him, and his wife Anita. Good, at least we’ll know someone there.”
“Well, he’s Col. Mahani now. He’s commanding his unit there.”Riya’s dad turned to her, “Do you remember Mahani uncle and aunty, Riya? We were posted together in Hisar.” Then lookin at Riya’s mom again, he asked, “How old was Riya in Hisar?”
“She was two when we got there, turned four just before we left. I don’t think she would remember them, do you Riya?”
“Not really,” replied Riya.
“Wasn’t their son her classmate in nursery?” asked her dad.
“Yaaa... Arre, what was his name? Starts with an A I think... umm... yes! You remember Angad, Riya?”
Riya thought hard. Then, it came back to her. “You mean, Chunnu?”
Riya’s mom chuckled, “Yes, that was his nickname then.”
“Hmmm... I don’t remember much, we used to play in the sandbox in the park, right?”
“Oh, for hours. You would refuse to come home and I had to drag you home sometimes. And you would be so dirty, I had to lay down newspapers on the floor before you entered the house and I would bathe you for hours. Some days, I would hose you down in the lawn...”
Sensing her mother getting lost in reminiscence and her father in the newspaper, Riya took two more sandwiches and clambered onto the upper berth again. After finishing them up, she started listening to music again. After a while though, she felt fatigued and switched it off. She lay down to rest for a minute or two. Next thing she knew, her mom was patting her on the shoulder again, saying, “Riya! Riya! Wake up, come on. We’re here.”
If you feel like it, please answer these questions along with your review/comment:
1. Were you bored? Is it too stretched? Do you feel like you can read more? Do you wanna read more?
2. Are my dialogues realistic? Is the grammar correct?
3. Have I used the tense correctly? Are there any grammatical mistakes?
Thanks for reading and sorry for wasting your time if you didn't like it.
