Tricked into Being by Maffy Vaz

Author:Maffy Vaz [Vaz, Maffy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: FICTION / Romance / General; FICTION / Historical / 20th Century / Post-World War II; FICTION / Women
Publisher: MoshPit Publishing
Published: 2023-09-15T00:00:00+00:00

2.10

Four hours later, having stopped midway for a short break, we arrived at the facility.

We parked beneath the shade of a big neem tree where a few cars had already been parked. It was a bright sunny and hot, dusty day. It hadn’t rained in this part of the town and there were visible signs of a stressed environment where every little green leaf had dust settled on it, even before it uncurled.

As we got out of the car, stretching our limbs, I looked up at the neem tree. It was dense, and the smallish green leaves covered every tiny branch, which accounted for the denseness and the shade underneath.

‘It has medicinal uses,’ Fehroza said to me, looking up the tree. ‘Some use its twigs to brush their teeth with. It’s very bitter though. And they say some of the neem’s properties include contraception too,’ she whispered.

The huge deep-brown painted corrugated iron gate to the facility was closed. A side entry showed people could walk in, and that was where we were headed.

I’d come face to face with my great grandmother and that made me both excited and nervous. After all, I was instrumental in finding our maternal side of the family here. How I’d love teasing Kevin about it!

I shared this with Benny, thanking him, for it was all happening through him.

‘Maybe, it was written in the stars. Maybe, like Fehroza, your mind also works towards solutions,’ he said.

Huh? Could it be true that I didn’t park potential problems? I smiled.

‘At last,’ he said.

‘What?’

‘You smiled. You don’t dislike me anymore.’

‘Too early to decide,’ I said, but I didn’t hide my smile.

‘Ah! You’ll keep me on my toes.’

‘I intend to.’ He raised his eyebrows.

Led by Zubin, we followed through the side gate and walked into a compound. There were a few tall trees, shady ones too, and little garden beds and pathways. These would have been continuously watered, as they looked green and fresh with no dust on them as the ones outside.

There were a couple of marques around with a table and bench and several canopied wooden swing chairs. Some people were on these swinging, staring steadily into nothingness — moving from a high to a low but nowhere in between.

The main residence was a pink-coloured, single-level building, which had a corrugated iron roof, and it occupied half the area. A dozen steps led to the main entrance. On either side were small rooms, some with open doors and windows. It was no modern building but clearly had been repaired and repainted over the years and belonged to a different era — pre-Independence days, as Zubin informed, British influence.

‘They grow vegetables on the land behind the building,’ Fehroza said as we began to walk along the pathways towards the main entrance to the building.

The place looked neat and well-kept, and there were no immediate signs of neglect or unhygienic conditions. That was because the facility was privately managed. I was told that it made a lot of difference, as there was no government interference.

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