When I exited the room, I didn't anticipate to see Lila's father's face buried in his wife's chest as he broke out in tiny sobs. Lila didn't too as both of us stilled in the passage, hearing his shallow breaths like a drowning man pulled out of water. Her mother stood and held his head with a vividly distressed look on her face, trying her best to soothe him while her father sat on a chair at the dining table. And her quick instincts made her notice us, two girls awkwardly frozen like ice sculptures. She tore away from her husband whose bloodshot eyes then averted to the table, not daring to look up.

Lila strode to her mother and without sparing a glance at her father, she kissed her mother's cheeks like she always did. I trailed indifferently after her like a train-bearer holding the delicate train of pretence. From the corner of my eye, I saw her father's slumped figure and his red ears, reminding me of all the times when I stayed at Lila's place late and spotted him sitting right there by the dining table. He would wearily come home after work, pour himself a half glass of whisky and swirl the golden liquid without ever drinking it. At least, I had never seen him take a sip. The house would be ghostly quiet in the night like an empty vault made of gold, Lila and her mother's cheerful voices reduced to cautious whispers. Even their normal talks about 'what's there for dinner?' would be hushed like they were exchanging nuclear power secrets.

"I'll come back soon," Lila said, her light voice felt like a misplaced beam of sunlight struggling to find its way out of dense, dark clouds.

Her mother didn't fuss over her and in her silence, Lila and I stealthily slipped out. I pressed on the elevator button because whenever Lila was disconcerted or dolorous, she did the least amount of physical activity. But she launched herself towards the stairs and started sprinting down, seemingly impervious to the strange environment of her house. Startled, I ran after her, both of us madly racing each other. My longer legs enabled me to overtake her by the time we arrived at the fourth floor and laughingly, she tried pulling me back by my arm, shoulder, whatever could reach her desperate, flailing hands.

The sound of the slapping of our flip-flops against the concrete stairs and our childish giggles echoed in the vacant stairwell. We arrived at the bottom and with my leftover energy, I sped to the car, halting instantly when I couldn't hear Lila's short steps after me. I turned around to find her exasperated in a hands-on knees posture. I advanced towards her and hesitantly placed my hand on her shoulder since she was gasping for breath. "Lila . . . Are you okay?"

Suddenly, she swatted my hand away and dashed towards the car, shouting, "It's so easy to trick you!"

Manu was befuddled to see well-bred girls of eighteen running around like wild horses. Lila flashed an unapologetic grin, conveying that it was her, Lila, a girl who made eccentricities seem normal. Because it was normal to desire to play like a kid and fulfilment of that desire was also normal, had it not been for the standards of normalcy defined by societal expectations. We were all unconventional- unconventionally beautiful, smart, what not, pretending to be conventional. To pretend to be normal was to confine oneself. To pretend was to not live. This was the philosophy of Lila, yet here she was, pretending that everything was alright as she sighed- almost longingly. Longing for what?

After our little game, she quietly gazed out of the window of the car and sighed. Lila had never uttered a word about her father in our four years of friendship. On the other hand, she would talk garrulously about her mother, right from the new chic saree she bought to the peach pancakes she made. Perhaps, there were problems in his work life that she didn't wish to share . . . I never shared the amount of debt that my family carried like a row of ants marching with food. It was absurd how protective we could get about our families, trying to bury our failures deeper than personal ones.

I didn't broach the topic about her father either, making peace with Lila's silence. Fortunately, Manu had switched on the radio and pop Bollywood songs played one after the other, preventing any of us to want to speak. It took us an hour through the Western Express Highway to reach South Bombay and Manu dropped us at Churchgate Khau gali because Lila had the sudden urge, in her words- an emergency, to eat street food.

I wondered if her capricious behaviour was all because of hunger and not her father since she happily put one pani puri in her mouth, showing no remnants of earlier sadness. A few stubborn strands of her hair kept flying in her mouth as she ate with difficulty, a plate in one hand and the other occupied with food. I brushed back her hair and held it together in my fist, the slight frizz was surprisingly soft. A bit coarse, but fluffy.

With her mouth full of pani puri, she spoke guiltily, "I forgot to ask. You don't want it?"

I shook my head, quickly catching another strand which escaped my fingers and aimed straight for her mouth. "The parathas and pudding were a lot even for a week." I had eaten that at her place for lunch which Lila barely ate, claiming to be full from 'brunch.' "Your mum will be so mad that you're eating this and not her parathas."

Instead of a playful remark, she continued to stuff the Pani puris with more vigour. "Let her be mad, I don't care."

"You don't care? About your mum?"

She shrugged and I knew this had to do something with the earlier incident, so I didn't pry. Especially in this narrow, busy street with the throng of sweaty people bumping each other and crowding around sweaty vendors, I couldn't risk to provoke her to burst out. After she finished eating, she resumed behaving in the same woeful way as we headed towards Marine drive in silence like strangers. Each step beside her, inhaling her father's woody scent and hearing her breathing waver heightened my agitation. I was losing my patience for staying in my lane and not asking her. All I wanted was for our lanes to intersect and branch out into smaller, undiscovered ones, both of us completely knowing and understanding each other and exploring together different newer places.

We sauntered on the promenade till Lila found a perfect spot which wasn't occupied by smooching lovers and both of us sat on the embankment, overlooking the black tetrapods and the greyish blue sea. She impetuously swung her legs over the embankment, her flip-flops perilously slipping from her feet. I sat cross-legged and scrutinised her, the wavy hair that I held before was now dishevelled and she didn't bother to sort it out. On the other hand, my straight hair remained unaffected by the wind or the heat, resembling the same horsetail as in the morning.

Her slightly poofy hair made her heart-shaped face appear smaller and delicate and I could no longer watch her downcast eyes and her downward-turned lips drawn into a grim line.

"Lila?" I called out and it was so unlike her, to not turn and grin in response. "Are you okay?"

She sighed again, her shoulders sagging. "She just doesn't leave him." She was contemplating whether to tell me more, I could see the internal conflict on her face like she was made of glass, unabashedly revealing her true, inner self. "She wants to prove to her family that her interfaith marriage worked. Her family, my nana and nani, had opposed the marriage and ostracized her after she eloped. She says she can't divorce him now after all that struggle. Tulsi---" She brought her legs up and sat cross-legged like me, facing me with a grave expression. "Religion had nothing to do with their marriage. They just outgrew each other over the years. But if they divorce now, she says that they'll win!"

"That's not true. Hate never wins."

"That's what I told her!" She leaned closer to me. "Why care about them? They'll never let her live. She doesn't regret marrying him, but she'll regret not divorcing him. She's so unhappy these days."

"How long has this been going on?"

"Over two years . . . When I was little, their marriage was perfect. Some years back, they started having problems, but they never talked about it. And soon, they stopped talking about anything. I realised in Italy when we booked separate rooms, one for mama and me and the other for him." She leaned back and slowly stretched herself, her head tilted up to the sky. I knew this entire affair drained her because of how much she loved her mother. I reached out and touched her hand and her startled round eyes were on me. She broke out in a short giggle. "Our trip wasn't that bad. Mama and I went shopping all day- I showed you the dresses?"

"No- I mean yeah, you did. That's not what I . . . you can talk to me about all this stuff, okay?" I didn't like imagining Lila crying alone about this, the thought of it made my insides revolt. "I haven't been hanging around you just for your jokes."

"My jokes aren't funny enough?"

"That's not what I meant---"

"I'm joking." And she burst out into fresh giggles, her soft head on my shoulder and I mockingly rolled my eyes, unable to resist a smile.

"I know that. We were having a serious talk, but never mind."

"Go on." She encouragingly punched my arm, once again swinging her legs over the embankment.

* * *

Glossary

Khau gali- a street dedicated to selling street food.

Pani puri- a type of street food with chickpeas, sauces, flour, etc.

Nana and nani- grandparents.

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