Summer afternoons at our boarding school were blistering—dry heat and sharp sun, in a rain-shadow pocket of south-eastern India. We’d gobble down lunch under the loud whirring of dining hall fans then run back to our dormitories to observe “silent time”. It was an hour-long break—sometimes two during the really unforgiving times of the year—when everyone read, napped or wrote in perfect silence.

In the senior girls dormitory, silent time was sacred and strictly enforced. The only sounds you would hear were the soft turning of pages and the purr of overworked fans lulling us to sleep. And in the first few minutes, you’d also hear the shuffling of Apoorva’s feet as she ran up to my bed to tell me something exciting that had happened in her day.

She’d try—heroically—to contain her giggles, then narrate the whole thing in a rushed whisper. She’d then run back to her home—the home of our warden, our “house parent”. The fact that Apoorva’s mother taught at the same school made little difference to how rebellious, angsty or fun her teen years were. Maithilee and I grew up with her, watching over her like big sisters do, no matter how little we ourselves were.

Today, Apoorva is a lawyer. Still giggly. Still full of heart. It’s hard not to laugh with her when she whips out her quick wit, her long-winded analogies (which somehow make sense in the end!) and her unmistakable Banarsi turns of phrase.

When you first meet her, it’s hard to imagine she has ever been anything other than herself—funny, confident and the kind of go-getter you want to place your bets on. But life is tricky even for the best of us. Her coming of age, though, is a story of reclaiming herself: relearning that she’s strong, smart, and good enough.

As she approaches her thirties, Apoorva stands where many of us do — testing newly found solid ground, learning how to build up.

She tells us about finding agency and power at her place of work, now that she’s no longer a starry-eyed junior. She talks about “settling down,” as per the standards society has set. She says that it has given her a freedom to explore who she is, now that the inherited checklist of life is mostly complete. Her eyes shine when she tells us that, like an explorer standing before uncharted waters.

Then, because we’re two women cut from the same chatty cloth, we talk about marrying our opposites: how the differences drive us insane, and how they also steady us in small, life-affirming ways. She also tells us about the challenges of loving in a language other than the one you speak in your heart, and the beauty of finding a new language together anyway.

Apoorva wondered whether she would have anything interesting to say in this episode. “I saw the other episodes. These are interesting people. They seem to have lives,” she said. I couldn’t believe she’d ever had a moment of doubt.

Because the truth is, Apoorva has always been life itself. Even on those blistering summer afternoons in the late 2000s, she was already curious, tender, fierce, funny.

She just doesn’t have to whisper anymore.

PS: My dear Dash Sister Blue sits this conversation out, as she nurses herself back from a flu. We await her longingly.

Love,

Dash Sister Red

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