The Bougainvillea of Summer
A Short Story of a Suburban Misfit
“Bye, Ma!” yelled Maya as she cycled her way outside the quarters compound. “Come back soon and don’t drink the tap water,” said her mother sprinting to the door.
Maya wouldn’t miss her volleyball summer camp for the world. She had gotten so fervent about the sport after watching her brother, Sathya who played for the state-level volleyball team and was her paramount source of inspiration. She went around telling the other kids, “See that guy over there? That’s my brother!”
The way to the playground was scenic; with lush green canopy overlooking her exhilarated smile, clouds of thick white flamboyance, barring the prickly sunrays. The smell of summer flowers arousing the holiday essence in the kids and setting the right tone to the beginning of eventful summer evenings. Come summer, she looked forward to watching the flowers decorate the neighborhood. Purple bougainvilleas were her favorite.
Maya had always been the popular kid in the block. Barely had friends but always surrounded by people. She hated those who made fun of her hair or clothes. She would go to great lengths in calling out the bullies — like hitting the ball at someone deliberately and pretending to be innocuous. Or getting the older Annas (brothers, in Tamil) to chastise them. The Annas adored her and would miss her if she didn’t show up at the ground. She would referee their matches standing on the referee’s tall stand and would penalize the team that gave her fewer chocolates. Life was good.
Now and then, Sathya would accompany her during the ‘beginner’s time’. He would hang and chat with his friends while we boring beginners finished our training. Sathya was not particularly proud of Maya. He did love her but never wanted to be seen with her. It was her boyish facade that he despised the most. All was fair in the process of growing up, this grudging detachment didn’t bother the two of them much, and they lived in their little worlds.
Soon, it was the end of camp and summer vacation; and school would take over life again. Maya, no matter how many years went by, had a very discernible struggle in breaking the summer camp routine. Sathya had the advantage of being in the school team that let him play volleyball every day after school but not Maya.
After every annual camp, a friendly match was held between the kids and was the most looked forward to event. It was customary to let the kids go home on a high note, to show that they had learnt something in the camp.
In this match, Maya’s nemesis was in the opposing team. A guy who she threw the volleyball at and pretended to stay oblivious. He was the one who had always picked on her, called her a “boy,” and threw little pebbles at her. She hated him also because he was older and played better too. It did not deter her; she knew what she was doing. The match began and the air was tense. All the Annas and Sathya were seated, waiting, as their ‘proper’ match would be held next.
It was the nemesis’ turn to serve and Maya was the center back. Caught by curiosity, the ground became silent. Maya could at no cost be inflicted by the shame of losing to a boy, not in front of Sathya and the other Annas.
He served. Maya imagined the boy flying towards her, holding a fist. She looked at Sathya, he gave her a ‘you can do it’ nod. She tackled the ball, fell and dropped it. The whole ground hurled a sigh.
Embarrassed, she got up dusting her brother’s shorts. The opponents were celebrating. Maya walked up and congratulated the boy.
“Hey great match, keep it up,” he said.
With that done, she just wanted to head back home.
Standing by the cycle stand, she witnessed something strange. She saw Sathya telling his friend, “See that kid over there? That’s my sister.”
Unable to emanate a suitable reaction, she pedaled her way towards the setting sun. Smiling with tears, she noticed the purple petals that adorned her path.
Vaishnavi is a writer, self-taught filmmaker among other things. You can read all of her work by signing up for her newsletter.
© Vaishnavi Sundar 2020
