Voices

Sejal kicks an empty coke can against a wall until a soiled sweatshirt stops the can’s predictable path. She sees the words “D lce Ga ana” poking out on eyeglasses underneath the grimy sleeve.

“Pick them up.”

She squints to hold the tortoise shell temples up to the sunlight. One of the glass bifocals is shattered, though the frames are in decent shape. A rodent makes a modest whimper close by, and her stomach mutters at the scent. Gauging by the echo, it’s not big enough to change her plans. With clenched fists, she walks the reverse direction, moving past an empty gas station and down a vegetated embankment. She slips the eyeglasses into her dress pocket.

Her light pink cotton dress falls to her ankles without ever touching her hips. She folds it methodically and places it aside. Tall buildings peer disapprovingly at her meekness as she navigates rocks to the gray river’s edge. A cold bite shivers up her legs with each step, and her belly button turns inside out. Going under is the only escape. Water rises up her waistline and fills her ears like gasoline into a machine. She flips onto her back and spies on the birds perched atop an empty skiff boat. The rhythm of her heartbeat rattles in the river. They’ve learned not to eat the floating fish.

Her body relaxes under the mossy exterior and into the scent of an acidic fertilization. The familiar Hindi tune of “Luka Chuppi” occupies her mind as she descends deeper.

“You won’t feel a thing.”

A rush of emptiness multiplies from her stomach to her head. Without any pause to convince herself otherwise, she swims up to the surface and coughs up her own suffocation. Mud fills her toes on the way back to a rocky river’s edge. Her knees fold dutifully towards her chest while she rocks herself side to side. The dirt on her skin will dry heavily in the heat, and sweat will soon streak her olive skin like paint dripping from a canvas.

She weaves her brown hair effortlessly into a knot as she climbs up the embankment. She walks back towards the metallic scent, while her shadow disappears quickly on the broken asphalt. The only sounds she hears are her own.

“Try again tomorrow.”

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