Fiction: Maya oscillates between fear and superstition as the mystery of her absence heightens

In her mind, it was a year of Epic Proportions, an incredible year that could have been any other year for any other child, except Maya-then-Mia was no ordinary child. She knew this thanks in no small part to Lakshman the cop. He had made it very clear to her and to the rest of the family right from the start that Maya-then-Mia was special, very special.

And his favourite.

That was the one thing she and Gautam Bhaiyya couldn’t discuss. They discussed everything else under the sun, their stock of Phantom and Tintin comics and sweets, the large desert cooler rumbling in the background, creating a picture-perfect postcard of a memory that she would have no trouble accessing, unlike some of the later memory pebbles. A few years spent like this, and then all of a sudden it was time for matching school uniforms and getting dropped off in a Gypsy, though Gautam Bhaiyya often had to just make his own way.

“I don’t mind,” he used to tell her. “School is so close to our house.”

There was nothing missing.

Nothing.

Papa would take her out every night to point out the stars and to teach her something about something. Never about people (they’re the…

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