Six

It was the face of a worn-out teenager. The dark circles round her eyes were too shocking to see - she never had any lack of sleep. Yet, the face in the mirror said otherwise. The eyes were red too! Then there was none of the usual light makeup she used. Her face was looking more haggard than she could have ever imagined.

The bindi in the middle of the forehead, the single plaited hair, the under nourished face characterized by the protruding cheek bones that made her look unattractive, the false jewelry in her neck, the plain half saree she wore, everything pointed to one thing - her poverty.

'Mom said something about bringing a salary.' She thought. 'Does that mean I'm working somewhere instead of studying? If that is the case, where am I working and what kind of job is it?' As she set about cleaning the room, she looked for clues that could help her grasp the situation. Because everything about this home was seriously wrong.

As she rearranged the books in the shelf, she found a thick, worn out, faded red color diary. She opened it and found her name and other details written in her mother's neat cursive handwriting. As she read the details, she was surprised that her bank account number had changed as had her contact number.

"What are you doing?" she turned round to see her elder sister standing near the door. This girl was not the sister she had known. She stared at the newcomer and her clothes she wore.

"When did you start wearing such clothes?" she asked staring at the short one-piece dress that was too short and too revealing. The broad U-neck cut revealed her cleavage while the skirt reached just below her hips showing her legs more than necessary. The black heels she wore completed the outfit.

"You should open up and you will earn more." Mounika stared at her sister who was looking more like a fashion model or a glamorous Bollywood star rather than a middle-class girl. Somehow, she didn't like this sister at all.

"I don't like revealing anything except to my husband." Mounika answered in a low voice than she intended to. "How can you even suggest something like that?"

"My dear silly sister," Harshini replied looking at Mounika with pity. "That's why people like me a lot and I am rich!" her words sounded hollow to Mounika.

"Then why is the family so poor?" she asked fixing her sister with a stern gaze. "Why should mom suffer if you are rich?"

"She chose to be poor." Harshini said nonchalantly and blood rose in Mounika's veins at those cold words. "She refused to take the money I gave her."

"How do you earn the money?"

"Does it really matter?"

"Are you doing something illegal?"

"Do you think I am stupid?" Harshini took a deep breath. "I only use men to fulfill my needs."

"What needs?" Mounika suddenly disliked this careless Harshini who appeared to think only about herself. "What exactly do you do?"

"Why do you even care?" Harshini walked to the dressing table. "I assume you cleaned this?"

"Yes. But how do you earn money?" Harshini stared at her image in the mirror admiring her curves and then did the unthinkable - she discarded whatever had been keeping her modest till then and Mounika almost screamed with embarrassment.

"Hey! What are you doing?" she quickly closed the door, her cheeks turning pink at the fact that her sister was standing in her birthday suit admiring her beauty. "At least you could have closed the door."

"Who cares?" Harshini turned around and faced Mounika, looking as serene as if she were fully dressed. "He never gets out of his room at this hour - even for eating." Mounika looked puzzled.

"What do you mean?" she asked making her sister look at her in surprise.

"Well, don't you know that he comes home completely drunk and rarely gets up? Mom takes his dinner to him and gets beaten for making him eat."

"Why is he drinking?" Mounika found all this difficult to digest. "Why are we so poor?"

"Ask him! Why do you ask me?" Harshini was irritated. "Ask him why he resigned to his job!" Mounika was stunned by this news.

"What! He resigned to his government job?" Harshini looked at her suspiciously for the first time.

"Did you bang that silly head of yours somewhere?" she asked Mounika looking into the latter's eyes. "Why do ask as if you don't remember anything?" Mounika had a flash of inspiration and knew what she needed to do to find out more. She thanked God for giving her this opportunity.

"Yes. Someone hit me from behind and I fell down. All I remembered was the way home." Harshini didn't appear convinced.

"Do you know who I am?" she asked, her eyes boring through Mounika's eyes and into the depths of her soul.

"Yes. You are my elder sister, Harshini." Mounika tried not to look at her sister as she came closer to her. Harshini held Mounika's hands and stared deeply into the latter's eyes.

"What is mom's name?" Mounika felt a bit afraid that her plan would fail. She gulped in fright but managed to get a hold on herself.

"Anjana." Harshini still looked suspicious.

At that moment there was a loud thud as if someone had fallen and Mounika ran out of the room forgetting that Harshini was yet to be dressed. As she went to the master bedroom, her steps slowed automatically as it was the room used by her parents. Though she was anxious she hesitated to go inside as she did not know what to expect.

She knocked the door loudly and there was a sound of shuffling feet - moving unsteadily towards the door. Her father opened the door and glared at her with blood shot eyes.

"WHAT?" he shouted scaring Mounika. She stepped back in terror at her father who looked drunk. She had always been afraid of him when he was angry and today, he was looking even more terrifying despite being drunk.