Tanya Tania by Antara Ganguli

soft and secret and dreamy. I imagined a gentle knight and a sorrowful princess and he was smiling at her with all the patience in the world. The knight was my father and the princess was my mother. They began to touch each other and did not notice me hiding under a rosebush. And I, absorbed as I was in watching them did not see you, writhing with a snake in a pit right next to me. The snake rose up and struck you and you fell forward dead in the sand, looking straight at me with a smile on your face.
    This is a nightmare I’ve had for three and a half years. Well, there are versions. Sometimes there’s no snake, it’s a gun. Sometimes there’s no noise at all as if it’s happening in mute. Once, in the dream, I was blind but I could still feel you fall. Every time you fall with a smile on your face watching me.
    It didn’t just happen to you. It happened to me, Tania, it has never stopped happening to me.
    Love,
    Tanya

    February 25, 1992
    Bombay
    Dear Tanya,
    Okay that was less weird than I thought it was going to be. You sound a lot more normal on the phone. Except you have a weird accent. But I’m glad I called.
    It was pretty crap that you didn’t write and tell us that Chhoti Bibi was back. You know I made the maid wait outside for the postman for two weeks. And it’s like really hot outside. You’re INCONSIDERATE.
    Chhoti Bibi sounded fun although I didn’t understand a lot of what she said. You know what Tanya, I think inside, below the crappy stuff that comes from being poor, she’s actually cool. Cooler than you. It makes me sad actually. There are so many people who would have been total social rockstars and they can’t because they’re poor. It’s over for them before they even have a chance.
    It was kind of tough for Nusrat. I kept trying to give her the phone because you know she can like make some noises but she wouldn’t take it. She can be shy. She does sound weird so maybe it was good she didn’t. I’d be pretty mad if you said the wrong thing to her.
    So anyway the big update from my side is that Sammy has a girlfriend and she’s BLACK. She’s from NIGERIA. Yeah. Insane. I mean I think it’s weird that he couldn’t get an American black girl to date him. My mom forbade him to go to Nigeria because it’s like super dangerous. He told my parents that she’s super smart and is at Princeton on a full scholarship. He told me she’s hot like a model.
    If I wasn’t so short I’d be hot like a model. I have the Bengali eyes you know? Except they’re normal big on me not like protruding big like they are on some people (my mom).
    I have a nice ass and REALLY hot legs. My problem is my boobs. They keep growing man. I mean I know it sounds sexy and stuff but I don’t want it to get to the point where they are like Anjali’s, I mean she can’t even run and she can NEVER wear tank tops. I already can’t wear tank tops without a bra which is so sexy you know. Like a plain simple white tank top over jeans right after you’ve shampooed your hair and your skin is soft and shiny and just slightly sweaty, I mean sometimes I look so hot in the mirror I can only imagine what it does to guys.
    How much hotter do I have to be for Arjun to love me in public? He was mean to me today.
    Do you think it ever gets simple? I think it used to be simple at one point for my parents. My dad has told me stories about how they met and how they fell in love. You know my mom like totally stood up for him to her parents. They wanted her to marry someone rich like them. And my mom was like I’m going to marry this guy or no guy. And it worked.
    I mean I think that’s cool but I wonder if she would have married him if my grandparents hadn’t been against it, you know. What if she was trying to prove to herself that she was powerful, that what she wanted mattered more than what they wanted? What if