Gaya loves how the cool air mixed with the scent of sandalwood, lavender and chamomile washes over her senses, how the air and aroma wrap around her damp body, erasing the dull, drabness of the days, how entering the Total Beauty Spa and Salon feels like entering a whole new world. How it finally feels like summer! Like hope! Like happiness finally kicking at the door. Too loud, actually. short story
Frowning, Gaya opens the door of the changing room and finds Kanika standing with a fiery look. short story
‘You are late, again.’ Kanika says. ‘One more day late, and I am cutting your salary. Go to the spa section. Hurry!’
You keep finding ways to pick on me. Don’t you dare cut my salary, Gaya says in her mind but to Kanika she apologizes, she says it won’t happen again. She has no intention of upsetting anyone, let alone the manager of the salon. short story
She left the mountain where the river flows between the rocks like a snake coursing its way, where good fortune was supposed to come but never did. short storyshort story short story
She changes fast into black trousers, a red striped shirt and a high ponytail; she sprinkles powder on her body, sprays deodorant under arms. She looks up at the girl in the mirror, she doesn’t recognise her. No longer the naïve mountain girl who trusted every flawed person.
A good life, love or no love, sugarcoated sanity, loads of money are the things that brought her to this curiously unfamiliar city. short story
Gaya says namaste with a smile, with both hands pressed against her chest tilting the head forward a little bit. The lady looks at her, says nothing. They never do. short story
‘Would you like to have a cup of green or perhaps ginger tea?’
‘Green tea.’
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Gaya brings a cup of tea and a wet towel on a tray. She places the tray on a small tea-table. The lady sips the tea, wets her face with a towel flipping through the pages of a fashion magazine while Gaya patiently waits at a distance.
When the lady is done, Gaya takes her to another room and brings a bowl of warm water with scented oil and floating rose petals on it.
The lady places both her feet in the warm bath. Gaya takes out one foot and scrubs it with foot file. One foot is done, she does the same with the other. She cuts toenails, she shapes them with a nail file. She takes cream and messages her legs for a while. She washes her foot, rubs it with scrub and leaves it to dry for a while.
Twice Gaya changes the warm water. Twice she hopes the lady will give her a good tip. Twice she almost snoozes but stays awake, alert.
Gaya has not seen this woman before. A new client. Amongst the regular ones, some give handsome tips. The girls are happy to see them. Some are hard to please who find fault in everything. They stare at the mirror with their eyes half closed inspecting harshly:
I think the right eyebrow is a bit thin. The two don’t match.
I told you to cut the hair short, not too short.
There is a strict rule here. Whatever the clients say, you can’t talk back, you can’t confront them. You must accept whatever they say, no matter how stupid they sound. Smile and serve. Serve and smile. That’s the rule. short story
After a client lured two skilled girls out of this salon to work for her, a new rule has recently been set up. No close contact between the girls and the clients will be tolerated. No exchange of phone numbers.
Rules are like monsoon rain, once it begins, there is no end.
A mobile ringing startles Gaya. The lady speaks softly, Yes, I’d love to join. Thanks for inviting me. Don’t tell me? Did she? What? When? These women, I tell you …
Gaya listens to the lady but pretends not to. While Gaya’s hand softly rubs the fine lady’s feet with message cream, her mind travels far, far away.
To the mountain where the Krishnachura trees line the paths and red fiery Krishnachura flowers carpet the ground. To the bright pink and purple Jarul flowers. The small hut on top of the hill. Her home.
As soon as the word, home, pops into her mind, a small one-bedroom flat with a big television she has recently bought with her hard-earned money flashes before her eyes. short story
And she smiles. And she stares wide-eyed as the fine lady gives her a handsome tip. And she presses her hand against her chest and says namaste, with a smile as broad as the mountain she has left behind for the city where Spring comes early this year.
Image Courtesy: Pinterest
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Marzia Rahman is a fiction writer and translator. Author of two books, Dot and Other Flashes and The Aftermath, her flashes and translations have been widely published in both print and online journals. Her novella-in-flash If Dreams had wings and Houses were built on clouds was longlisted in the Bath Novella in Flash Award Competition 2022. Her work has been nominated for Best Microfiction 2023 and Pushcart Prize 2024. She has recently co-edited a flash fiction anthology Flashlights.
