“And Samantha Zugara”, she said, then gently looked up, took out her reading glasses, and signed the attendance sheet as soon as she heard a faint voice from one corner of the class uttering “present”. It was the last name on the roll call. She marked the girl present and kept her pen back in her purse. “Okay guys, attendance is done, let’s move to the field. Today is pep rally. Zoe please pick up your headphones and sunglasses.” Zoe had chronic photosensitivity to fluorescent lights and noise too.

“Can’t I be excused for today”, Zoe said in a rebellious tone.

“No ma’am, I can’t leave you alone in the class”, Maya was ready with her reply as if she was prepared for Zoe’s initial resistance. The flock of students began to walk. Maya began walking with them as they laughed and rattled with each other, tramping toward the stadium. They did not witness any excitement unlike the ones in middle school kids who always waited anxiously for pep rallies at school.

The learners occupied the seats according to their grades-freshmen at the left most corner of the stadium, sophomore next, followed by juniors sprawling in the middle, and seniors straggling in the rightmost corner. The teachers were expected to stay with their classes. Maya hated walking uphill to reach the middle part of the stadium which was on quite a height. She quickly took one of the corner spaces on the bleachers next to Zoe. Zoe’s service dog was resting beneath the seat.

Maya had never been fond of entertaining or playing with pets, especially dogs, but Brook was different. He was quiet, laidback, and well behaved. He looked highly intelligent to Maya. Sometimes when she saw him sitting subserviently behind her owner, Zoe, and constantly staring at Maya, she almost felt as if she was being watched by a police officer. Maya was convinced that Brook was very good at reading thoughts and emotions. The provision of going to school with service dogs was completely alien to her. Maya got a written note from the office with the schedule for substituting in this class. It said that she had to take especial care of Zoe, a student having the Asperger’s syndrome and that Zoe will be accompanied by her service dog wherever she went. She searched up about service dogs and learned that Service dog refers to any dog trained to help a person who has a disability, such as visual impairment, hearing impairment, mental disorder, seizures, mobility impairment, etc.

“Hi Maya, how are you”, someone tapped on her back. It was one of her neighbors Sumi. Maya returned her greetings with a smile and shook her head gently in response to her presumed ‘how are you’ phrase. She could see Sumi’s lips moving, but it was not audible as it was hard to hear anything in the roaring crowd. The entire teaching staff and learners had gathered in the stadium to show school spirit and wish the best to the school soccer team which was going to Chicago for national competition. Students screamed as loud as possible to cheer the team. All she could hear was just noise. The school band was performing. Cheerleaders were performing. “Will talk to you soon”, Maya said it with her pinky and thumb spreading toward her lips and the ear as it was hard to listen to one’s own voice in that throbbing crowd.  

“And there you go”, Mr. Dasher announced on the microphone.  Her eyes met again with Sumi’s while cheering for the school principal who was ready to dunk himself in a pool of colors. Maya always wondered if there was a point in doing all that, but today she was enjoying every moment of it.

As soon as the rally was over, students began to disperse. She was fast as she was walking along with Zoe who scurried off from the stadium because of the scorching heat, along with her service dog.

“Good to see you again. My in-laws are here for two months”, said Sumi and almost darted across as fast as possible toward the main corridor to catch up with her students. Maya didn’t get the time to say anything in return. She was surprised to see Sumi in school as it was just a couple of weeks back, she had seen Sumi walking with her husband and her son at night near the park in the apartment complex with her protruding belly which indicated a full-term pregnancy. Maya felt that there was no need to give this update so anxiously but didn’t overthink about the bit of news shared with her.

Hardly a week had passed when Maya saw Sumi again in the staffroom when she went to warm her coffee in the microwave kept in a corner. Sumi had been sitting and browsing her phone. As soon as she saw Maya, she again excitedly walked toward her. “So which teacher are you subbing for today”, she asked in a very amiable tone. Maya was unprepared to hear this kind of personal talk with Sumi. She had met Sumi in a couple of birthday parties, ‘haldi kumkum’ ceremony in one of their neighbor’s house or exchanged greetings while strolling late nights after dinner in the neighborhood. Other than these few encounters, she had nothing between the two which she could call friendship.

“I’m working as a long-term substitute for Ms. Gabriel. She had some complications in her final trimester, so she had to go on complete bed rest”, Maya explained the long story in a briefest possible sentence. She did not evince even half of the excitement for the chit chat.

“My mother in law is here”, Sumi initiated the conversation in a rather dreary tone. Maya did not get why all of a sudden one has to mention her in-laws in a professional context, that too in a staff room.

“Great, then you must be getting good food and post-partum care”, said Maya. She assumed that one has guests at home, there is a copious amount of food on the table. “And if I’m not mistaken, you recently had a baby, right?”, she asked. Maya was indifferent, but she didn’t mind having a short conversation before she moved out of the staff room with her coffee. Sumi smirked.

“And you resumed your job pretty early, huh?”

Sumi was quite prepared for the expected question. She presumed, like others, Maya was also questioning her decision to resume her substitute teacher job after two weeks of delivering the baby. “I know”, Sumi paused for a while then added, “Post-delivery blues are easier to handle than to stay home and get constantly nagged for things.”

“Are you sure you really want to do this”, Maya repeated.

“I don’t mind”, Sumi shrugged. “In high-school there is any way not much to do. Students don’t listen to us, as mostly they are self-occupied with their devices when they are with a substitute teacher”.

Maya smiled. Sumi told her that during the lunchtime or free period, she walked home and pumped milk. Maya reexamined Sumi when she mentioned breastfeeding. It was the first time she noticed Sumi’s body. Her belly was still conspicuously protuberant. She could see some wetness around her nipples from outside of her top, perhaps because of the overflow of the milk. 

Maya felt a little uncomfortable. While the ladies were conversing, a gentleman with a stubble, was watching the ladies in conversation, waiting behind them to warm his box of spaghetti in his hands. She asked Sumi to move in a corner, on the green sofa, so that they may carry on their conversation without blocking others from the passage. Sumi didn’t care. She went on as if she had been looking for someone to blurt out her pangs of anger and frustration. She told Maya how her mother in law thinks its unnatural to pump breast milk, freeze it in plastic containers, and feed it to the baby later. She said she was fed up of being instructed on everything she did by someone who thought had an expert opinion for everything. Maya knew the conversation was inescapable. She got up to fetch a packet of nuts from the vending machine.

Sumi looked inexorably stressed. She told Maya how her mother in law gives her example of her my sister in law who had breastfed her both kids till they turned five. “She wants me to do the same. I can afford to go home only once,” Sumi looked at Maya for some validation about her point. “Common sense is where I differ from her”, she added when she didn’t get the expected response from Maya. The conversation didn’t really sink in Maya’s head. She had absolutely nothing to say, neither words of sympathy for Sumi nor of abuse for the lady’s mother in law. Her brain kept on toggling back and forth between Sumi’s story and the tiff she had with her students that very morning when they requested her to give them a retake of a quiz, they had the previous week. There was too much going on in school. She was still figuring out the best way to teach her lessons that made more sense to her learners.

It was in early February when Maya had been assigned Mrs. Gabriel’s World History class for the next five months. It was her second day with Mrs. Gabriel’s class which she was going to own for the next few months.

“Good morning everybody. Yesterday we discussed the basic themes of Chinese civilization. Today I will talk about Tang Decline and the Rise of the Song dynasty. Please take out your review sheets,” Maya gave the instruction and began opening the projector for PowerPoint she had to share with the class.

The students looked disinterested, but they had their review sheets out on their table.

Maya still remembers her first interaction with Zoe. “Good morning Mrs. M, here is my tardy slip”, Maya had heard the words but did not process the information as she was looking for a book in Mrs. Gabriel’s huge rack of books.

“May I have your attention please”, this time the voice went few notches higher, sterner, and somewhat ruder too. Zoe almost barged into Maya’s desk.

“Good morning. Sure, go ahead”, said Maya, as she took the pink slip from Zoe and marked her tardy for being fifteen minutes late to the class. Zoe was about sixteen years old girl, with greenish-blue eyes, curly blonde hair, tall and heavy built. She had a heavily rounded face full of innocence. Maya did notice her that day itself as she had been given detailed notice about her being on the autism spectrum. The tall girl with a service dog, she has etched on her mind. The one who addressed her as “Mrs. or Ms. M, please suit yourself!”

“Ma’am where is your review sheet?”, Maya asked looking at Zoe.

She noticed Zoe had turned a deaf ear to her. She was looking out of the window which opened to the sky visible from the second floor. “I have a problem with your accent, “Mrs. or Ms M, please suit yourself”, she said in a most disconcerted tone. Zoe’s indifference towards Maya’s lectures went on for three weeks. Until one day when Zoe decided to mellow down.  It happened rather inadvertently.

Maya did not find her presence welcoming in the class. The learners had adjusted well with Mrs. Gabriel, the young and charming teacher for whom Maya had substituted a few times last year in the fall.  Some of them laughed at whatever she said, mostly because of accent, or because of her didactic tone, which she often unconsciously segued into, while explaining the expectation she had from the class.

It was her third week with the learners. She had asked them to annotate a chapter. Despite Maya’s several caveats, students were going on chattering. Maya did not know how to control the situation. It was hard for her to remember the names of all thirty-one students in her class.

That day she lost her marbles. She decided to take stern action and make the learners sit according to their alphabetical order. As soon as she announced that, one student stood up from his seat and said in a rather satirical tone to her friend, “Who does that? I have never sat according to the teacher’s preference”, he laughed. “So true”, another girl laughed. The entire class laughed.

“Yes, still I would insist you all sit according to the way I tell you,” Maya was persistent. Aamir, Audrey, and Avery, please shift with your bags to this front table. I’ll do the roll call and you guys will get up and move.

“Cadenza is here”, Maya looked at the attendance sheet and asked. A few students in the class laughed again. “Cadenza, Daniela, and Isha move to this second table”, Maya briskly moved to the other side of the class as she invited the student to move.

“Now what is so funny in that. Have some respect for her”, Zoe stood up and said it all in her heaviest and meanest voice. An eerie silence spread in the class. Maya had never seen Zoe interacting with her classmates. Yet, that day her stern voice proved to be a game-changer. She looked at Zoe. Their eyes met, Maya blinked and thanked Zoe without uttering a word. Zoe gave her a blank look in return. Maya felt a bond being created with Zoe; without any deliberation.  The class settled with the new seating arrangement. That was the first time she noticed Zoe’s perfectly rounded face, with puffy mug, a big nose, and beautiful eyes. She wore a red and navy blue ‘north face’ jacket and black trousers. She mostly wore black pair of trousers. Usually, girls in high school either wore jeans or black tights. Unlike other girls, Zoe also had a scarf around her neck. She noticed that Zoe was absolutely glued to her iPad most of the time. She had her headphones on her head as usual.

By the onset of April Maya had begun to settle with her class. Students, after much resistance, had stopped reacting with a chuckle to her utterances. Gradually, their ‘in the face’ jeers had been replaced by slight smirks and their vague reactions to her lectures had been stifled. By the end of March, they all had settled with their new teacher ‘Mrs. M with an accent’. She had taken the challenge to make a mark for herself as a fair representation of diversity. She was running pillar to post to teach her lessons in the best possible way as it was her one chance to prove her mettle to the administration.

In the last two months she never noticed Zoe answering any of the questions she asked while teaching. Maya always made it a point to make her class interactive.  Zoe performed well on her tests, but she never saw Zoe participating in the discussions, even while doing group class projects.

That day she was discussing ‘Atlantic slave trade’ in class. Maya had learned in last two months that if she had to control her class of ‘intelligent brats’, she had to challenge them with unnerving questions to think about and respond.

“Okay, then let us discuss some DBQs today. For these document-based questions you all need to know the overarching theme well”.

“Now tell me, how did the Atlantic slave trade combine the worst elements of the previous models of slavery used by Greeks, Romans, Judeo-Christians, Arabs, Spanish, and Portuguese?”, Maya looked around in anticipation. The class went silent. Some students began browsing notes; others didn’t even care to search for an answer. Few searched on google. But it was not an answer to be found on google.

“This slavery united the African Americans because they were all in the time of adversity. And it was the first time in history that slavery acquired a racial status,” Zoe began to speak.

It was something different for Brook. His ears stood up, he stood up and looked more alert. Kept looking around while Zoe went on. She never saw any avidity in Zoe to answer her questions or participate in the discussions in the class, but when she did, for the first time in front of Maya, she knew what she was talking about. Her tone was indifferent, but she spoke like an expert with authenticity.

The class broke away for lunch. Zoe had her head down on the table. “Zoe. Are you not going for lunch today?”, Maya asked.

“I’m not hungry”

“I liked the way you responded in the class today”.

Zoe still didn’t look into Maya’s eyes. Her reticence and indifference irked Maya but she had lot of documentation to do, so she too had decided to stay back in the class.

“My mom is getting married. Did I tell you? In a few weeks is her wedding reception”, Zoe’s tone was hard-hitting, loaded heavily with revulsion.

“Oh really!”, Maya was not sure whether she should add “that’s nice” to it, or just stop there.

“I’m mad at my mom”

“Oh, I understand”

“It’s about what I’m going to wear in the reception”, Zoe added. Maya noticed the aggression in Zoe’s tone. On second thought, she lowered the seat and sat down. “I want to wear my favorite suit”, said Zoe and picked up her phone to show her photo in the suit.

Maya went next to Zoe’s seat to look at the picture on phone and said, “A navy blue suit”?

“Yes, my favorite suit”

“Nice”, Maya added.

“My mom cried yesterday. She is hellbent on making me wear a gown, which I hate”

In a few weeks, Zoe had become unhesitant with Maya. Maya was mindful to maintain the distance, but she was satisfied that she could win the trust of at least a few students in the class, ‘Mrs. Gabriel’s class’. It was the first time Zoe unleashed herself in a conversation with Maya. Maya had no inkling as to why this change had occurred in Zoe. Perhaps, Zoe did not like public conversations, but would open up in one on one talk. She told Maya about her passion for building bridges and other structural designs and how she had won several private and group competitions like ‘Destination Imagination’ and others and represented her school on the international level.

She told Maya about how her exceptional talent with structures was discovered by her teachers when she was in fifth grade when she worked on a problem for a school project. And how in her spare time she searches for engineering design problems brought in from industries and makes her own models using paper, cardboard, wood, metal wires and even with raw pasta and spaghetti. In several brief conversations she had with Zoe, she had promised Maya that she would show her some models she had made in the last year.

Maya noticed that there was an exceptional sparkle in Zoe’s refulgent greenish-blue eyes when she talked about her passion for building structures. She told her how it was her favorite pastime to touch and feel different types of material she could lay hands on and twist and turn them to see if they could be made to look different. And therefore, how she keeps researching and learning about the properties of solids like concrete, soils, rock, metals, plastics, and other materials. And her mom often took her to different hardware stores so that she could buy whatever she needed for her models. Maya could finally see how Zoe was different from her classmates for sundry reasons.

The other day Sumi and Maya met in the corridor again. After the exchange of a few niceties, Sumi again opened up her favorite topic, mom-in-law.

“She can never appreciate me for anything whatsoever”, Sumi began.

Maya looked around. The school the principal was walking towards the other end of the corridor, as if in a hurry. “Please speak in Hindi”, Sumi suggested.

“My in-laws reached Seattle ten days before my delivery. They were shocked to see that we were not teaching any ‘good habits’ to our son Parth. Every morning as he gets up, and changes for school,  his hogs his breakfast and leaves for school without taking a shower. Is there anything wrong in that?” Sumi looked agitated.

“You know about the frequently pounding rain in Seattle and the cold and windy waves”

She was so consumed in lashing out that she did not notice a bunch of students passing by. Maya kept moving with Sumi without saying a word. She did occasional nods to assure Sumi that she was with her.

“Parth had been so sick for one whole year after we moved to Seattle; therefore, I had decided that he will take bath before going to bed in the evening, not in the morning. Last night I again had a tiff with my mother in law on this”.

“I see,” Maya had nothing to reflect on.

Not inculcating good habits like taking shower in the morning was not the only allegation Sumi’s in-laws had pointed out. Sumi told Maya how embarrassed she felt when her in-laws said something to Parth in Hindi and he gave them blank looks as he didn’t understand any of the conversations. the other day her mother in law called Parth and asked to come and sit beside him in Hindi. She translated grandmother’s request to Parth and cajoled him to go to her. Parth was going out to play. It had been a sunny day after almost three weeks. “I don’t care. I have to go”, Parth yelled in exasperation as his friends were waiting outside.

“Oh, so he doesn’t understand even the simple commands in Hindi.” My mother in law always speaks in this defeatist tone.

“Parth is going to a Hindi school on Sundays after shakha, a Sunday school for teaching Hindu values”. Sumi immediately replied as she wanted to forestall any comments about her inability to pass on her native language to her child. But this time the father in law, spoke, “According to the latest research the best way for a child to excel at a foreign language is to be good at their own native language”, he consciously stopped his right hand in which he was holding a cup close to his lips and uttered in a serious mode while watching CNN news channel on TV.  

“Foreign language”, Sumi had smirked while making sure no one was looking at her.

“It’s proven research, my mother in law added”, as she walked out of the kitchen with papaya pulp all over her face. She always emphasized how she was so good in utilizing natural products.

“If you downgrade your language, you deprive a child of access to a whole lot of enriching heritage”, father in law said in a preaching tone. He was still glued to T.V. Sumi explained that her son had been reading storybooks and Indian comics like Amar Chitra Katha to her son from Indian scriptures like Ramayan and Mahabharat. Her in-laws made fun of these efforts as insufficient.  

Sumi was almost in tears now. She told Maya how her mother in law’s conversations were replete with nasty comparisons about her own household chore execution skills, child-raising skills, and even about her wifely behavior.  I start self-doubting everything I do. I find her homely and dull with nothing to her credit except her cooking skills and her command over her son and husband. But half the battle is won if you have these two skills I believe.

Maya looked at her phone. Only three minutes were left for her class. She did not want to leave Sumi. So, in a mode to wind up the conversation she continued, “But I’m sure you are trying your best to teach him Hindi”, Maya put her hand on Sumi’s shoulder and stood up to leave for her class.

“Yes, I always speak to her in Hindi but he replies to me back in English only. I have to let it go now. I need to choose my battles. I have to push him for everything, for brushing his teeth every night before bed, for eating green veggies, for doing extra math homework from his Chinese Math class, for piano, and for Sunday religious class. I have to compromise on few things.” Sumi was in a mood to say more as her next period was a conference, so she was not going to have any students in the class. “See you later”, said Maya and rushed to her class.

Maya asked the learners to pick one questionnaire, kept on the table near the entrance, as they entered the class. They were supposed to watch a movie and answer the questions as a part of their bi-weekly quiz. As Maya had put the movie on, she turned off the lights and asked students to watch the movie and work on the quiz after. Maya settled on her chair. Sumi’s musings kept on ringing in her head. She began to reflect on the idea of bad habits. Does showering late at night instead of early morning or not speaking native language call for such caustic comments? And is it even possible to control the habits, lifestyles, and behavior of our future generations, she kept mulling over it.

As soon as Maya reached her class, she checked her calendar for the day and noticed that she had B lunch duty for the whole week. Because the high school had to feed more than three thousand students, there were three different timings for lunch in the cafeteria-A, B, and C. And the entire teaching staff had to do a certain number of lunch, duty hours to have a hitch-free running of the cafeteria, disciplined the flow of traffic, and avoidance of any kind of chaos and misbehavior during the lunch hours.  She reached the cafeteria as soon as it was time for B lunch. Maya began walking around the walkway between the circular tables. Then she decided to stand in a place where it was easy to supervise the crowd. The entire cafeteria was resounding with commotion. It was hard to hear anything. Maya was not surprised to note that Zoe was sitting on a corner table with two other boys who were busy talking about the soccer game they played that morning in the stadium before coming for lunch. Zoe was listening to the two boys, holding a burger in her hands. She was also occasionally feeding some dog food to Brook.

For the entire week, Maya Zoe was found sitting on the same table, eating a burger and feeding Brook and talking to the same boys, perhaps her only friends in the school. It was Friday, her last lunch duty day for the month. Maya noticed that Zoe had got a bologna sandwich for lunch for the last four days. While moving around the tables she reached Zoe and said, “What did you get for lunch Zoe?”

“I love my bologna grilled and crispy sandwich.

“Put a nice, thick piece of Roma tomato on squishy white bread with mayonnaise, American cheese, exactly the way my mom does for me, and you will never touch anything else”

“My mother always shaves the bologna super thin then fries them for my sandwiches; when she has time on weekends, she makes it slightly smoky on a cast-iron,  which gives it a flavor that I love. Umm…blended with garlic and other spices and it is heavenly delicious.”

“I can’t live without my 'old woman’s hunchback backs,” Zoe’s eyes had brightened just by the thought of domed up bologna, heating on the pan. “You may add condiments, but the key is to fry bologna”, she had added in the end.

While helping the students clean up after lunch, Maya noticed that Sumi too was in the cafeteria for her B lunch duty. Sumi asked Maya to join her for lunch in the corridor table adjacent to the cafeteria, right after their lunch duty, as both had C lunch assigned as their own lunchtime. “You are not going home to pump milk for your baby? “I have stopped pumping”, Sumi’s voice was heavily laden with guilt.

“And please, no preaching. I’m sick of my mom-in-law's ‘breast is the best mantra”, Sumi began to sob. She told Maya how she was shamed for not lactating sufficiently and how she was forced to try different types of galactagogues from Asian to Indian, and from herbal to non-herbal, to enhance her supply of breast milk. And how every day she was forced to consume copious amount of cheese, sesame powder, all types of Indian spices as an ‘elixir’ for more supply of milk. And that magical potions of raw garlic, ginger juice, dunked with loads of cumin, fenugreek, cloves, and carom seeds had generated so much heat in her body.

“Umm… sounds toasty though”, Maya chuckled.

“Agree. The searing of these herbs and spices was okay right after delivery. But not anymore”. Sumi opened her lunch but was completely consumed by the stories about her mother in law. May was told that Sumi’s mother in law, Mrs. Leela, also commented on her small size of breast and said that her lean body structure was not good enough to satisfy its purpose to please and to feed.

“You know what, now I know why my husband doesn’t like my cooking. These people like to overcook everything. We keep it crunchy, but they like it soft and gooey”, Sumi continued. She told Maya about how Mrs. Leela added loads of ‘ghee’(clarified butter) in all the dishes she made at home, esp the sweet ladoos she made for her and insisted her to eat them for more flow of milk.

“She likes to cook everything in loads of ghee, and you know I want to avoid fat. We like to go out for dinner. She does not like this either. She will go to any extent to impress her son. Yesterday, she went to Kroger and got all the ingredients for pizza and made homemade pizza. Then she declared looking at me, “This is what you call a healthy junk food. I’m happy and so is my grandson. I used organic flour and organic fresh veggies”. There was more emphasis on ‘homemade’ and ‘veggies’.

“Is there just one way of doing things well?” “You tell me Maya”. This time she was almost in tears.

“That is why I have decided. I will never talk back to my mother, but never follow her suggestions either. Neither obey nor resist is my style. Mother in law had been the boss of the house back home and here also she wants me to take her permission for everything”. 

“You are not eating”, Sumi reminded Maya. Amidst the commotion, both the ladies were so consumed with the conversation that Maya didn’t even open her lunch. Sumi looked at Maya’s lunch bag and said, “So, you are not a vegetarian?”

“Who me, no way”, Maya denied categorically.

“Don’t you feel there is certain power and moral superiority wielded by vegetarians in India”.  “Holy cow”, Sumi laughed as she opened her ‘Whataburger’ pack and began gulping chicken pieces.

Sumi had never tasted chicken before she came to the USA. Sumi’s husband Amit came to Chicago much earlier than her as a bachelor. He used to share his room with three other Indian men who all worked in the same company. Every weekend they used to bring home different types of meat and cook it with a lot of fat and spices. Sumi also gradually was introduced to these varieties when she came to stay with Amit in the USA. They ordered a bacon, ham, hot dogs, prosciutto, salami, and all types of sausages.

Maya reflected on Sumi’s story. “Little do they understand that it is their son who has introduced me to ‘meat-eating’. Be it ‘pork’, ‘ham’, ‘bacon’, ‘salami’, ‘seafood’, ‘duck meat’, ‘beef’, turkey, pheasant, ‘venison,  ‘mutton steak’, for them it was simply the characterized as ‘meat’. They failed to understand the difference among these types of meat.

“The entire notion of vegetarianism of these people with Hindu sensibility is pretty outrageous to me”. And whatsoever…Sumi shrugged her shoulders. “Why should I listen to her. we are educated mothers, been on our own for all these years. “Throughout her life she has lived in comforts, surrounded by maids and servants. Will she ever understand my struggle? She will never understand the dynamics of living in the USA”, said Sumi about her mother in law.

“The best way to keep them under control is to keep them engaged. I give writing assignments to my students as soon as I enter the class”, Mr. Joe was telling the staff administrator. “I tell them that they have to write on every step of life, to impress their girlfriends and boyfriends, to get a job, to give instructions to their colleagues and subordinates”, he was chuckling. Two very old lady teachers were already there. As soon as one of the school counselors entered the office, the topic changed. She expressed her concern over the day before yesterday’s incident when a few boys and girls were given detention for carrying drugs in their bag packs on a random check of their belongings. Maya thought about discipline and control, about problems more conspicuous and subtle, and about the students on detention for vaping and about Zoe.

She overheard one of the teacher being friendly with her learners when the other interrupted and said that if you focus on palling around with your students, you'll end up shirking your professional duties to avoid upsetting your new friends. I found that the key was to be polite and friendly while still maintaining my authority. Use an authoritative voice to capture students' attention and to keep their attention as you explain your expectations for the day. She had worked on her delivery of a powerful voice, and confident body language. She felt happy that she had learned how to shut down any disruptions swiftly and decisively.

 “I like your nails Mrs. M”, said Zoe looking at Maya’s nails. Zoe told her that she loved beautiful nails, but she was ‘incurably ticklish’ so never allowed anyone to touch her hands and toes. She never saw Zoe talking about any such thing to her classmates, most of whom loved to jabber away about nothing. Maya never accepted such feminine beauty standards. She remembered how she took pride in herself for not being the “type of girl” to splurge on pedicures and manicures, but her smugness promptly dissipated after she got into the profession where people looked at her hands more often as she explained thing with hand gestures and wrote on white-board or pointed out places on maps using her hands on the classroom walls.

That day Zoe told her she loved anime, manga, and reading. She got paranoid when a bunch of people talked to her in a group but her own little world was very much accessible if one knew how to win her confidence. Zoe had been putting all her angst into building bridges. it had almost become an aesthetic fixation with building bridges. Maya could understand that Zoe’s behavioral abruptness was just due to social anxiety and not snobbery.

“I'm not into small talk either preferring meaningful conversation”,

Maya was surprised how Zoe talked to her at length when she was alone in the room with her. She talked, she laughed, she cracked jokes with her. Students say that Brook is her best friend. She told Maya about how Brook had been such a source of confidence and confiture for her ever since he came in Zoe’s life. She explained how Brook, the beautiful Labrador accompanied Zoe everywhere, to school, to grocery stores, and to her after school activities.

Zoe says having Brook has changed her socially, emotionally, and behaviorally. It’s an inseparable bond. Before him, she rarely went outside, fearful of the neighbor children’s teasing. But, when she started to walk him, the kids would come up to her, and they could talk about her dog. They were excited to meet him, and by extension, that made Zoe feel more accepted. Now in her sophomore year of high school, she is living a more secured life as a teenager.

“I had to wade through a lot of shitboxes before I had Brook beside me. I had to deal with myself. That’s my biggest challenge. Other things come handy, except my mood,” Zoe laughed. Sumi was not sure if the laughter depicted sadness, remorse, or her unexplained enthusiasm. “I live by days”, some days are ‘off days’ when I feel low, and some days are ‘on’ when I feel much better. Life is a war and mobility is the key, said Leonardo Da Vinci’. She burst into peals of laughter. Sumi did not know how to react. My dad gifted me a Leonardo Da Vinci’s model of a toy bridge. She told Maya that she had a college reading level by the time she was in sixth grade, and her natural talent for engineering was discovered by testing during middle school. And how she was on the autism spectrum.

She kept pursuing Maya. Eventually Maya gave in. She had ratted herself out in a relief she thought. She thought she was finally off the hook but she was wrong.       

As Sumi had her first period off, she decided to sit in the library. The librarian Mrs. McCain always offered coffee to staff members if she spotted them in the library, but only in the first period. However, that day Sumi was upset. She decided to plug in her computer and randomly surf the net. But that day was different. Although she wanted to avoid Mrs. McCain, she came straight to her. “Hello ma’am, today I not only have some coffee for you in the corner staff room but some popcorn and candies too. Please help yourself.

“Thank you Mrs.McCain”, I’ll have some coffee.” Sumi had warm coffee in her hands. Her train of thoughts began to move.

Another day when Amit was getting ready for office, Mrs. Leela came out with a bowl of hot idly in her hand.

“Amit we need to  begin shopping,” she reminded Amit while serving him idly with coconut chutney.

Sumi had few items in her mind. I suggested her some cheap inexpensive gift items like dark chocolates, multipurpose flashlights, lint rollers, kitchen knives, and peelers, etc. which we find are of better quality here as compared to what we get in India.

 “And Shoma had demanded a ‘Kate spade’ handbag”, she added while offering a cup of hot coffee to her son. She also said that she needed to buy some gifts for her people in India.

“I’ve heard Gold coins are cheaper to Buy in USA than in India”, Mrs. Leela interrupted. And so is said about electronics.”

 “How about branded watches and perfumes.

 “Amit remember Asha aunty. She got Ipads and iPhones for her grandchildren and gold for herself.

Sumi felt her heart sinking. That night she was inconsolable. Amit did not know whom to console first, wife or his baby. “You never let me buy any jewelry and always said we will buy in India as there you can get 22 k gold not 14 or 18 like we get in here. And now your mom wants to buy gold from here”. Sumi could have said nastier things, but she didn’t.

“I have always waited for sales during festivals, weekends, and end-of-season clearances, always hunted factory outlets or seconds-outlets to get good deals. Sumi whispered.

 “Does she even have a faintest idea of how expensive these things are?” Does she not know that her son is a simple IT professional like thousands of other Indians living in the USA, not a millionaire. And she should understand that they were in this country for a limited time period.

“How can she assume that we will be able to afford all this? ‘Kate spade’ purse? I could not even buy an ‘MK’ purse till now”, Sumi continued repining.

Amit could not open his mouth in front of his mom. He agreed to buy whatever his mother suggested. This was his sixth year in Dallas. His brother had a major accident in the year he had moved on to the USA with Sumi. He could not render any financial help. Then one year later, his father had heart attack, and all he could send to India was sympathy.

Amit listened to her for a while then reminded her of how in his family gift-giving has its own protocol. It’s not only the occasion but also the closeness of relationship which decides what to gift. If a child is born in the family, especially a male child, then sisters deserve nothing less than gold as a gift.

It was a Saturday morning. Maya reached ‘Costco’ for grocery shopping. She was picking almond milk from the shelf when she saw Amit waiting behind her for his turn. He was with his mother. He smiled at Maya and introduced her to his mother. “Mom this is our neighbor Maya. They are also from Madhya Pradesh”. As if being from the same state in India will give Maya an added advantage from his mom. Maya noticed an old, yet pretty looking female in saree standing behind her. Mrs.Leela wore a big bindi on her forehead, had gold bracelets in both her hands, gold ear studs, and a black beaded mangal sutra, a traditional necklace in her neck.

“Namaste aunty. Congratulations for the new addition in the family”, Maya tried to bring some excitement on her face.

“Thank you”, Mrs.Leela smiled but did not show any warmth.

“Your being here is such a big support for Sumi”, Maya said courteously.

“But the baby was born weak, just 5 pounds. My babies,” Mrs. Leela looked at her thirty-one-year-old son and said, “none of them was less than three and a half kilo.” Without much introduction, the lady began describing at length that how girls had become so fitness and figure conscious that they don’t go by traditional wisdom of Indian culture. She told Maya that she had made sweet ladoos for her daughter in law loaded with ghee and rich nuts but her daughter in law hardly touched them as she thought they were fattening and how because of that she could not amply lactate. She was not complaining, it was obvious. Her tone was disappointing and was showing concern.

“Oh I see,” said Maya and walked away briskly. She didn’t want the old lady to crib more about things around which she knew would put her in an awkward situation.

School was gradually coming to the end of the session. People were in a mood to wind up and go on with their summer vacation plans. That morning Maya was in her class before time, as usual. She had a staff meeting in the first period and just one class to teach that day. The other two periods were off as most of the students were taking AP exams except the three students who were supposed to stay back in the class for the second period. Two other students except for Zoe asked Maya if they could use the time by going to the library to get a clearance on their library dues.

Zoe looked tired and exceptionally silent. “You will not ask me how my mom’s wedding reception was?” she said breaking the long silence when she was left alone in the class with Maya. Maya was busy grading the papers. Had it been a regular day, Maya might have asked, but that day she had extra grading work, so she was immersed in her own documentation.

A long silence followed.

“Yes, how was it? What did you wear?” she asked casually.

Zoe began to speak as if she was just waiting for an outlet. “I never wanted to share my mom. But I guess now it has ceased to disturb me anymore,” she mumbled with a burst of hollow laughter. She told Maya she was hellbent on wearing a business suit, but on the wedding day morning, her ‘to be’ stepdad drove all the way from his home city, almost seventy miles away, just to have a breakfast with her. He made a special request to her that it was her mom’s very special day, so she should not ruin the day by acting whimsically. He requested her to wear the dress her mom had bought for her almost a month and a half in advance.

.

“Show me some pictures”, Maya muttered but not clear enough to be heard. Maya wanted to ask Zoe but kept mum due to her hesitation. She was still measuring the appropriateness of asking a student to share her mom’s wedding pictures. She believed it would be condescending. “So, you enjoyed the event,” a rather awkward question came from Maya.

“The party was a bit…”, Zoe paused. “Actually, it was really a loud, boisterous party with super loud music, and everyone was drunk and loud while dancing and boozing”. Her hazel eyes took three sixty-degree turn, but her facial expressions had an unusually calming effect, as if she had finally made a truce with the situation.

Zoe got up from her seat with her phone and moved to show her wedding pictures, but then she decided to sit back. Maya did not insist. It was lunchtime. The two other students came back from the library and stepped out of the class for lunch. Maya did not ask Zoe if she was staying as she often stayed back and ate her lunch in the classroom itself.

Maya could feel that Zoe was upset. In order to initiate another short conversation, she asked Zoe, while she was sorting a bunch of papers on her desk. “So, what are you having for lunch today”.

No response was received from Zoe. It was nothing new for Maya. Zoe muted herself completely whenever she wanted. Even on being directly asked asking something, at times she seemed as if she did not exist in the room. Some days she just sat in a corner at a table, twiddle her thumbs and watch her phone.

There was pin-drop silence in the room for some time.

“Now where is my frikin bologna”, Zoe raised her voice all of a sudden as she opened her lunchbox. Maya saw some packaged food in Zoe’s lunchbox. The lunchbox looked different from the one Zoe used to bring daily. It was obvious that her mom didn’t pack her lunch that day.

“So, you are upset for a sandwich?”, Maya asked smilingly as she graded one more answer sheet before opening her own lunchbox.

“Yes. I get it all the time...my beef bologna”, Zoe began ventilating.

 Have you ever smelled bologna sizzling on a pan?”, Zoe almost screamed.

“No”, said Maya. It took her few seconds to answer Zoe’s question as she went to use sanitizer kept near the main door. She was not ready for Zoe’s tangy and harsh tone.

“Then be quiet. Don’t comment bullshit. You know it’s a culinary crime not to taste my mom’s bologna sandwich”.

“I need my beef bologna sandwich”

“I need it now” Zoe began regurgitating hysterically.

Maya tried to remain normal. “It’s okay, you have something else to eat. Maybe your mom was too tired after last night’s party and she could not pack the same stuff she had been packing”

“Do you even know what a true bologna sandwich entail for me?”

Maya did not realize the gravity of the situation. She decided not to give air to the tantrums of Zoe. She had a lot of paperwork to finish. She quietly opened her own lunch box.

All of a sudden, she noticed some vigorous movement of Brook in the room. He looked alarmed, gazing in all directions, growling heavily like a lion. He was not barking though. The very next moment Maya noticed that Zoe was crunching her jaws, squeezing, and rubbing her hands vigorously. She was pulling her own hair. “Zoe are you okay, do you need anything?”

“I need my bologna, nothing but bologna”

Maya tried to calm her down. But Zoe did was in her own world. Soon she began to cry. She removed her noise controlling earphone which she had on her most of the time.

Brook kept gently interrupting Zoe’s self-harming behavior; he leaned against her, smelled her, gently laying across her lap tried to breathe deeply to control Zoe’s hyperventilation.

“My head is about to explode”, Zoe began to move briskly in the room, then stomping her feet as loud as possible. Brook looked agitated. He was constantly trying to distract her by pulling her scarf, wagging his tail, and fumbling with things around her.

Zoe was now throwing things away and banging her head against the wall as she went on rambling about things; some of which Maya could comprehend but most of her mumblings were incomprehensible to Maya. Brook kept intervening Zoe by distracting her, jumping around her, and pulling her by her shirt anxiously.

Maya was at her wit’s end. She began looking around. What could possibly calm Zoe down? Maya was shocked to witness her self-mutilating behavior; hitting herself against the wall, biting her fingers, dropping on the floor! At times, scratching her face, pressing into her eyes, then cowering on the floor. All this happened within a few minutes. Brook intervened in all possible ways to prevent a debilitating panic attack by engaging her in different ways. He tried to block the surroundings, blocks any harmful behavior. He put his nose where he could feel her breath so as to help Zoe regulate her breathing.

“Sorry for this brain fart mom. You are fucking me over every step of the way. I cannot take it anymore. I tried, believe me, I tried. I tried. I tried. I tried. I tried. I tried.”

“I wanted you beside myself, always and forever”

Watching Zoe do this, Maya herself felt a major spasm in her spine. She opened the door for help from the teacher next door. Mr. S was having an exam in his class. He suggested Maya to call the office for help and politely said that he could not disrupt his class. Maya called the office to see if someone could be sent for help. A trained special aid teacher, Mrs. Salmon, reached the class within a few minutes. Zoe was unstoppable; she became more violent when Maya and the other teacher even tried to touch her. She continued being abusive, loud, and panicky.

Mrs. Salmon didn’t budge. She was gentle on Zoe but very firm. Unlike Maya, she did not show any sign of fear or hesitance. “Where is your music, Zoe. Let’s listen to Beethoven’s ‘moonlight sonata’, your all-time favorite.” The caregiver stood beside Zoe and kept on insisting her to open her phone and open that particular piece.

Zoe opposed vehemently.

“Hello, I said put on the music Zoe” Zoe had turned a deaf ear. She began growling loudly just to barricade the melody reaching her ears to show denial. This went on for a few minutes. Mrs. Salmon kept playing the same music for a few minutes. Zoe’s inimical musings were soon converted into winching!! The nurse remained persistent with her instruction then finally put the same music on Maya’s phone, and fixed her headphone around her ears.

The room was sufficiently cold, but Zoe was sweating.  Maya rechecked the AC regulator. The teachers always left elaborate notes on how to keep the room colder when AC stopped working by facing a small lampshade close to the regulator. Practically every classroom in the high-school had a small lamp in the class. Maya turned the lamp near the AC outlet to comfort Zoe in all possible ways.

By now Zoe had somewhat drained her energy and began sobbing awfully. “I’m kicking my internal computer to get it to unfreeze”. Maya was told by hand gestures that Zoe’s favorite music will keep her from further freaking out, so there was no need to worry.

“I would never eat bologna again”, Maya uttered.

“Oh no, don’t be so harsh on yourself”, said Maya.

Mrs. Salmon hinted Maya to be quiet. Both moved out of the room. Maya briefed her about everything. “For Zoe, being a pure aspie kid, a ritual is everything”, said Mrs. Salmon in a serious tone, as if she could take. the stock of the whole situation in a moment. Soon she left the room.

Did you eat something since morning? Something clicked to Maya all of a sudden. She opened her lunch box and offered it to Zoe- it had few chickpea pancakes and some green mint chutney to eat with, a small box of cut fruits and a box of yogurt.

Zoe looked at the cold, pale, and uninviting pancakes. She picked one, dabbed it with green chutney and took the first bite. She seemed to have acquiesced to what was offered to her as she was really tired and hungry.  She kept eating silently one bite after another, without uttering a word.

Mrs. Salmon texted Maya to stay with Zoe in the room. Her mom had been informed. Students were not expected to come to the class after lunch. Both of them sat silently in the room.

“These are the caprices of aspie kids. She’ll be fine. You take care”, texted Mrs. Janet, the vice principal and she left the room, after giving a short visit to them in room E-205. Mr. S. from the class next door peeked and asked if everything was okay.

The school was over, most of the students and staff had left. Usually, Zoe used to take the school bus after school. But that day her mom was returning from work and picking Zoe. Maya did not feel like leaving Zoe all alone. She decided to stay with Zoe after school until her mom was there for pick up. Zoe looked enervated because of all the hyperactivity. Sometimes she heard Zoe take deep breaths. Maya held her hand without looking into Zoe’s eyes.

Maya had called Sumi to pick her son from the bus stop and keep him with her as Maya knew she might get late to reach home that day. 

Zoe’s mom reached the school in another twenty minutes. She had rushed to school. Mom hugged her daughter Zoe, thanked Maya, picked her backpack and left.

Maya was relieved. She reached Sumi’s house to pick her son. The entire living area had stuff all around. Packed gifts, electronics in boxes of different sizes, folded and unfolded clothes, shoes, sandals, big and small suitcases, empty teacups and sundry.

The little boys were watching TV. Father in law was busy packing and Amit was entertaining the little baby.

To Maya’s surprise, both the ladies were sitting on the sofa, watching their gold and diamond jewelry shopping. Three hot red jewelry boxes were lying on the table, half-open.

“Come and have tea with us. Mummy makes very good “ilayachi wali chai”, Sumi looked at her mom. Mother in law happily stood up and went to the kitchen to make masala tea which her daughter in law had just appreciated for the first time. Maya looked unassumingly at the mom and daughter in law, as if gauging the in-depth connotation of their conversation. The conversation of both the ladies seemed cloyingly sweet to each other as if atoning to how they had spent the past three months with each other. Maya had no clue as to how the two women were comporting so well. Sumi smiled and said in a hush voice, “They are leaving for India tomorrow.”