Dear Mrs. Naidu by Mathangi Subramanian

Author:Mathangi Subramanian
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Young Adult, Fiction, education, Friendship, Secret, school
Publisher: Zubaan Books
Published: 2015-03-02T00:00:00+00:00

August 6, 2013

Dear Mrs. Naidu,

Honestly, Mrs. Naidu, it’s a miracle that I’m writing to you right now. Because for a minute there, Amma was so furious I thought I was going to die she was going to kill me I would end up in your condition.

Yesterday I came home late, partly because I was helping Deepti catch up on everything she’s missed in science classes and partly because I was avoiding a certain eyebrow-raising lawyer’s house. Amma was already home when I got there, but instead of making dinner like she usually does, she was scrubbing the floor.

When I came through the door, she didn’t look at me and she didn’t say hello. Instead, she scrubbed faster, and said, “Hema asked if I was going to the meeting at the school after the holiday.”

“What holiday?” I asked.

“I asked her, what meeting is that?” Amma said, like she hadn’t heard me. “Hema said, the one your daughter is organizing.”

“Oh,” I said, really quietly, under my breath.

(Except I didn’t say “oh,” Mrs. Naidu. I said something much worse.)

Amma didn’t hear, because she was saying, “I told her I know that can’t be true, because I strictly forbade my daughter from wasting her time like that.”

I didn’t say anything, mostly because the only words I could think of were ones I had learned from Deepti. Which, as you might imagine, Mrs. Naidu, were not the right words for this particular moment.

When I didn’t answer, Amma said, “I told you to stop this nonsense.”

(She really did say nonsense, Mrs. Naidu. Amma’s not like Deepti. Or like me.)

“Sorry,” I said, softly.

“Sorry?” Amma asked, finally turning around. Laser beams shot straight out of her eyes and into my growing heart. Or maybe they went into my stomach, because my insides started to feel like they were being fried. “Sorry? I didn’t tell you to say sorry. I told you to stop. Stop creating trouble. Stop lying. Stop all of it.”

As it turns out, Mrs. Naidu, there is a word that was more wrong than any of the words Deepti had taught me. And even though I knew it was the worst possible thing to say, I said it anyway.

“No.”

“What?” Amma stood up and punched her hands onto her hips. She’s not very tall, Mrs. Naidu – in fact, I’m already taller than her. But when she stood like that, she looked twice my size.

In my whole life, I have never talked back to Amma. I have always done what she asked me to do, because I thought she was always right. But even though I am only twelve, and even though Amma has always taken care of me, and even though I trust her and love her more than anyone in the world, I had to talk back.

Because today, for the first time in my life, Amma was wrong.

“I’m not stopping,” I said, my voice growing louder, like someone was slowly turning up the volume dial in my throat. “You’re right, my plan might not work.

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