The call I did not answer

Maa called at six. I was on the stairs. The same ones from last time.

Tanvi is getting roka'd. August eighth. Papa has to bring me home.

I said okay. Three times. Like a stupid parrot.

Maa asked, are you eating. Are you in the studio. Is the piece good. I said yes, yes, I am making one. What does that even mean. I am making one.

Then it went quiet. Four seconds maybe. I did not say yes. I did not say no. I just sat there on the cold step and held the phone.

My hands were shaking. I do not know why.

Tanvi has a ring coming. I have a piece no one has seen. She is twenty five and I am twenty six and somehow she is ahead.

That is so mean. I know. She is my cousin. I love her. But it hurts somewhere I cannot scratch.

Maa will call again tomorrow. She always does.

I have to say something by then.

Yaar, why does going home feel like going backwards.