Aunty: (she was in shock): Where is your shop? (I think she wanted to make sure that shop is not nearby)Salesman: Our shop is in Chennai. Looks like your husband got that when he came here for the trip.Aunty: Okay. Saree was nice.Salesman: May I ask few more question madam, feedback from the customer.Aunty: I am busy now. Do not disturb. (She didn’t like to continue the conversation).(I thought that I need get her attention now to continue chatting)Salesman: Did the 34 size bra fit you well madam.Aunty: What are you asking? I know that he didn’t buy any bra from your shop.Salesman: Madam, you look sexy in yellow blouse.Aunty was shocked to read that text. She didn’t reply.Salesman: It’s okay Kavitha, don’t feel shy. (By mistake I mentioned her name).Aunty: How do you know my name, who are you, you are not salesman?Me: *sent her one pic*. (In the pic, she was standing in front of Prasanna with her pallu down, Her huge melons were trying to get out of her yellow blouse).Me: I know more. In desperation, her parents even brought in an Evangelical Community Behaviour Prayer Specialist.When all available behavioural, perceptual and spiritual therapies failed, the adults settled for a chemically-induced faux normality. Through the numbing flatness, Anamarika still suffers the tearing pressure, with no ability to fend it off. She sensed madness and death to be just around the corner. Yet the adults did no more than push more pills at her. One night, after palming her meds for three days, she slipped out the kitchen door to thumb a ride to Vancouver. She disappeared into the seediest part of town, where she fared better than most sixteen year olds. Neither stupid or vulnerable, Anamarika just wanted the elbow room to apply her sharpie without interference.She left behind a confounded family, their church, a creepy boyfriend who stayed only because “everyone knows crazies are great humps”, and all the other aspects of small Valley town clingy closeness. She found her place.
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