Finding Me Again - Part 2

Pakhi was eating her morning cereal when Trisha came down from her bedroom, ready to leave for Home Décor Depot. Trisha took the car keys off the kitchen hook and was about to leave when Pakhi spoke suddenly. “Where are you going this early?” Trisha stopped in her tracks and looked at Pakhi with wary eyes. She was sick of her family ignoring her.

“I am going to Home Décor Depot and it’s not that early,” she said with eminent irritation. “I might stop at Target later. Do you need anything?” Old habits die hard. She always took care of her family’s needs whether or not they acknowledged her. “No, but thanks for asking,” said Pakhi watching Trisha button her jacket.

Pakhi walked into Ashok’s study, cereal bowl in hand. “Dad, did you try talking to Ma?”

Ashok nodded his head. “She does not want to talk about dimma.”

“But you must keep trying. I think she needs counseling,” said Pakhi with a lisp, her mouth full of chocolate cereal.

Ashok looked up from his laptop with a frown. “This is the problem with your generation. You would rather talk to a psychiatrist than reach out to family. We will help her, she needs no professional.”

Since Trisha had left earlier and finished her work she was to do along with Ashok, she had time to make it to Target after all. She thought of giving Rina a surprise and headed towards the Starbucks inside the Target store. She was yanking open her jacket when she heard familiar voices speaking in Bengali. It was always comforting to hear her mother tongue, but this time something caught her ears that made her stop in her tracks. They were talking about her.

“Did you talk to Trisha after she came back from her Vegas trip?” asked someone. “Yes, I spoke to her this morning,” said Rina.

“I saw her post like fifty pictures of their vacation on Facebook,” said someone else. There was silence for a few seconds and then peals of laughter.

Rina intervened. “You have to realize that she is going through a difficult phase in life. Call it mid-life crisis or her mother passing away so suddenly or her problems with Ashok…I don’t really know! I am thinking of talking to her but I wonder how I can do that without offending her.”

“Come on, all this crisis tactic is just to get attention. Trisha should really work on toning down the “show-off” dial,” said another familiar voice.

“It’s like she wants everyone to look at her all the time!”

“And how she overdoes everything. Does she want to win the best socializer of the century award or something?”

Rina intervened again. “It’s sweet Trisha you are talking about. Why are you all so mad at her?”

“If she has psychological issues she should go for counseling. We all have our problems, don’t we? She will not get any better by shaming us into activities, saying that it is the Bengali way of living!” said another voice.

“I know, I am sick of her ordering me around. Do you know, she forced me to invite a family I barely know, just because she had bumped into them somewhere and didn’t have time to include them on her list?”

“Yes, she can be overwhelming.”

The cruel words spilled out of her good friends like puss from a long-infected wound. Her head felt heavy with the accusations. Did she appear as horrific as they described her? She took a few deep breaths to steady herself and slowly walked back to her car.

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