Dear Diary,
The doorbell rang.
This was it—her first knock in a city that didn’t know her name.
“Coming… just wait!” a voice called from inside.
The door opened.
A woman stood there, taking in the sight of a girl weighed down by heavy bags, exhaustion on her face, and something unspoken hiding behind her eyes.
“I’m Pashria, from India,” the girl said softly. “I think my mom spoke to you.”
“Oh… you’re her daughter!” The woman’s face lit up.
“Come in, come in. I’m Driya. Give me your bags.” She paused, then laughed lightly. “Actually, a lot of Indian people live here and keep coming and going, so I got confused for a moment. It’s okay.”
As the door closed behind them, Driya’s gaze dropped to Pashria’s leg.
“Wait… what happened to your leg?”
“Ah… it twisted when I suddenly stopped while walking. It happens sometimes, but today—with these heavy bags—it’s really painful.”
“Ohh, don’t worry.” Driya’s voice softened. “I’ll take a look. First, drink this glass of water. Please—sit comfortably.”
“Thank you, Driya aunty,” Pashria said, then smiled shyly.
“Can I call you Didi instead, if you don’t mind? You look so young and nice.”
Driya laughed.
“As you wish, dear. I don’t mind at all. You can even call me Dariya—everyone here does. And speak in Hindi or our mother tongue if you like. It feels relaxing. All day I speak English, sometimes Hindi… I’ve almost forgotten our language.”
She sighed softly.
“It’s been nearly twenty years since I came here. Life happened—marriage, a child, responsibilities. I never really went back home. Leaving family behind is the hardest thing.”
She smiled faintly. “Now my son will turn seventeen this September. After that, I plan to go to India and take a break—from everything.”
Pashria listened quietly.
“That’s a really long journey,” she said.
“When you go to India, please meet my mom too. She would be very happy. And her food…” She smiled. “It would make you very happy.”
“Aww, of course I will,” Driya said warmly.
“You’re as sweet as your mother. I hope you achieve your goals and build a good life—for yourself and your family.”
She opened her arms and hugged her.
“Yes… sure,” Pashria whispered.
For a few seconds, time stopped.
Her eyes filled with tears.
She didn’t know where to begin.
Everything was new.
Everything uncertain.
All she could do was hope—and leave the rest to God.
Driya stood and spoke gently.
“Come, show me your leg.”
Pashria stretched it forward carefully.
“It hurts,” she said quietly. “And I’ve heard it’s very difficult here just to see a doctor. In India, we don’t always need one… even my grandfather knows how to fix these things.”
Driya smiled reassuringly as she examined it, then met Pashria’s eyes.
“I’ll twist it a little and apply some cream. Don’t be afraid, okay?”
“O-okay… but please, slowly,” Pashria whispered.
“It really hurts.”
She closed her eyes tightly.
Suddenly—
Driya twisted her leg.
“Aah—”
“It’s okay now,” Driya said calmly, already applying the cream.
“The pain will fade after a while. Don’t worry.”
Pashria opened her eyes, startled but relieved.
“Now,” Driya said with a smile,
“I’ll show you your room. Follow me.”
Moving carefully, Pashria picked up her backpack and followed her down the hall.
Driya opened a door, placed the bag inside, and smiled.
“Make yourself comfortable and freshen up. I’m making lunch—we’ll eat together.”
“Jorge is at work, and Ramu is at the university. He’ll be back at night. So it’ll just be the two of us,” she added warmly.
“And I have so many things to talk about.”
At the door, she turned playfully.
“So come fast, okay?”
Pashria nodded.
For the first time since arriving in this unfamiliar city, she felt a small sense of relief—
like maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t completely alone.
She placed her bag on the bed and slowly looked around the room.
Everything felt new—
the bed, the walls, the silence.
It was the kind of room she had only seen in movies or online,
never something she imagined would belong to her.
She walked to the window and opened it, taking a deep breath.
Heat rushed in immediately.
Too hot.
She closed it, sat on the bed, and stared at nothing.
What will I do here?
Will I survive in this place?
The questions frightened her.
She lay back, closed her eyes, and whispered,
“Please God… this time, make it real.
I don’t want to repeat the same mistakes.
I really want a good life.”
Her voice trembled.
“I don’t need anything for myself.
I just want to give my family a better life.
Please help me this time—pakka.”
She folded her hands.
“Ganesha… now it’s all up to you.
Please help your sister.”
Sitting up, her eyes fell on the almari.
Small, divided into many sections—yet to her, it looked beautiful.
Then she noticed the mirror.
She froze.
Her face looked tired.
Dry skin. Messy hair. Sweat still clinging to her skin.
She sighed. “I look terrible.”
She took her clothes from the bag and went to shower.
Afterward, digging through her things, she murmured,
“Where did I put my comb…?”
From outside, Driya called,
“Please come fast! It’s ready.”
Pashria stood before the mirror again.
She tied her hair into a simple ponytail and glanced at her outfit—
black pants, black T-shirt.
She nodded at her reflection and whispered,
“It’s fine, girl. Just go.”
And for the first time, she stepped forward—
without knowing what waited next.
Next part coming soon...