Rakti sat on the bed of her two room dingy and moist house, folding up a betel leaf, when she heard the incessant knocking on the door. "Who might this be? What do you think, Mithi," she wondered.

The white and orange feline stared at the plump old woman and went back to licking her belly. Rakti Amma shook her head and smiled lovingly. She grunted as her worn out knees complained and got off the bed, placed the betel leaf inside her mouth, and hobbled towards the door.

"Who is it," she called out.

"Amma, open the door!"

It was a woman's voice, a woman Rakti did not recognise. She glanced at the crooked wall clock. Half past eight. Rakti had grown accustomed to living alone. Her daughter was married off to a shopkeeper in another town and it was unlikely that she would send some unknown woman instead of calling her mother. And then an ugly thought entered her head. Was Parvathy alright? Did she run into trouble? Rakti grabbed the hooped doorknob with her wobbly fingers and whoever was outside, knocked impatiently once again.

"Wait," she rebuked and reached for the latch at the top.

Towering over her stood a young woman. She looked familiar and yet was a stranger to Rakti. The old woman squinted her eyes and peered intently at the younger woman for a couple of minutes.

"Who are you," she demanded shakily.

"Amma, can I come in?"

Rakti could see that the woman was in distress but she did not like the idea of a stranger inside her house. "Why? Who are you?"

"Amma," she sighed. "I know it was a long time ago but it's me, Maria. Maria D'Souza. And I need your help."

Rakti gasped. Of course! That's why she looked so familiar. "You look just like your father," she breathed.

Maria chuckled, "I've been told." And her face fell. Gonsalves would have noticed it too, wouldn't he?

"Is everything alright, child," asked Rakti with concern.

"No. Can I stay here tonight, Amma?"

Rakti stared intently at her. To her, Maria was still a little girl in pigtails. She took her by the arm, pulling her inside the house and latched the door. "Sit somewhere."

Maria looked around and picked out the worn-out wicker chair to sit on.

"So, are you going to tell me what's wrong?" Rakti hobbled back towards her bed and sat down heavily. The bed creaked and she patted on its mattress as if to calm it.

Maria began. Elbows resting on her knees, she told her story, uninterrupted, her voice breaking a few times. And she told her Amma everything, to the last detail. In the end, she stopped and buried her face into her palms, weeping softly. She was sad, angry, and frustrated.

Rakti wanted to hug Maria and reassure her that everything would be alright. But Maria wasn't a little girl anymore. She would eventually find out.

"You know," she said softly, "I never imagined this moment would come but now that it has, let me tell you something. It's time you knew."

Maria looked up and stared at her Amma, wiping her tears and sniffling. "Wh-what do you mean?"

"Your father had made a will before he... It said that in case he did not die a natural death, the house should pass to me and once you are twenty-one, to you."

Maria furrowed her brows. "But... I took the keys from my mother's drawer!"

"That is because I never took her copy of the keys. I didn't have the heart. She'd just lost her husband, was utterly shocked by the will. All Annie wanted to do was leave the city with you! And she never contacted me once you did turn twenty-one. I tried to find you and your mother but I didn't even know where to begin. But, now you're here."

A deep silence followed the revelation. The cat noticed it too and she stared at the two emotionally charged humans. As for Maria, she had some thinking to do.


© Tejaswinee Roychowdhury