No Time for Goodbyes Read Online Free PDF

seconds and I finally pluck the courage to ask her, ‘How old are you?’
    She looks surprised by my question. ‘Fifteen,’ she says. She’s a whole year younger than me. Ha.
    â€˜You don’t have school?’ I ask her and she scowls.
    â€˜We’re on Christmas leave,’ she says. Aah. So this must be December. That’s why it’s so cold. Knowing that this is the best chance I have to know her as she was a teenager, I start asking her questions. Well, nothing serious. Just like which her favourite subjects are. Now I’ll know for sure if Maths indeed was your favourite subject, mom, I think with glee.
    â€˜Chemistry!’ she says with a sparkle in her eye. ‘And Physics.’
    Well, she’s definitely Raina’s mom. ‘What about Maths?’ I ask her cautiously.
    â€˜I love it!’ she says hugging her pillow and I’m actually disappointed. ‘But to be honest,’ she goes on and I’m all ears. ‘To be honest, I hated it all these years. It’s only for the past couple of years since Manoj moved in and started teaching me that I’ve started liking it.’ She looks down as she says this and I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Ah. No wonder.
    â€˜You really like him?’ I ask before even thinking that this is my mother . She turns completely red.
    â€˜No!’ she protests loudly. ‘He’s just got a great way of explaining things. And he’s a lot of fun. Life can be pretty dull otherwise, you know?’
    I remember how mom has told me that after her father died, their lives had changed completely.
    â€˜What does your mom think about him?’ I ask.
    â€˜Amma? She thinks he’s the son she never had. She’s so happy when she sees him,’ Suma starts gabbling and I listen quietly. The other two wake up and Suma falls silent.
    Listening to my mother talk about some guy she’s had a major crush on, who also didn’t end up being my father is surreal. To keep my mind off these disturbing thoughts, I fold my blanket and put it at the end of the bed neatly and then straighten the pillow. Giving in to some of my OCDs helps sometimes. When I look up, the girls are staring at me. Obviously I’m the only nutcase in this family who’s a neat freak.

Eight
    â€˜W HEN EXACTLY DID YOU say you came from?’ Manoj asks me, the moment we’re out of the house. I don’t hear his question at first because I’ve stepped outside the house for the first time since yesterday and it feels wonderful. Bangalore in 1982 is simply beautiful. There’s no other word to describe it. I can understand what my mom means when she laments about how much this city has changed with all the concrete apartments coming up taking the place of all these lovely trees.
    â€˜Tamanna?’ Manoj says and I turn to look at him and beam a smile in his direction. He looks taken aback.
    â€˜What?’ I ask him, for the first time not feeling upset about having travelled back in time. The air is cool and sweet even at 10 am and I feel so fresh and clean. That’s also because Ajji has insisted I take a bath before leaving the house. Pouring mug after mug of hot water on my body after soaping it down with sweet smelling Cinthol soap is a lot different from taking a five minute shower which is what I normally do. I’m not even annoyed at the clothes I’ve been given to wear. A slightly tight maroon kurta that is paired with deep blue flared pants. I only mutter something about people being colour blind back in the 80s before donning them, and here I am walking with Manoj, going to meet his grandfather.
    We haven’t discussed anything in the house and I wave a bye to the girls as I leave with him. If all goes well, I might be back in my own house and will have a lot of explaining to do to my mom about my clothes. I already feel slightly nostalgic about leaving these people and all the lives they