The grip on her pleated skirt tightened while her teeth constantly bit down on her lower lip trying as best as she could to control the uneasiness that seemed to crawl through her body. Her forehead was beaded with sweat as Aime sat beside her mother listening to what her class teacher had to say about her overall performance.

Mrs Lyngdoh a tall, fair and lean lady who had developed an accent from her time in the States leaned forward as she unfolded Aime’s report card and placed it on the table. Why she would ever want to come back to a small town like Shillong remained a mystery to everyone. She sat there in front of the two of them holding a pencil in her hand and pointed at Aime’s marks on the report card she neatly spread out on the table before them. 

“Aime’s a good responsible girl who never gets into trouble. I have no complaints about her except her academics are just average when clearly, she has the capability of topping the class.” Mrs Lyngdoh spoke pushing her round-rimmed specks up her sharp nose as her eyes shifted from the mother and eventually moving to the daughter who constantly had her eyes on the floor, occasionally looking up and giving a small smile. 

“That’s exactly what I’ve been telling her.” Mrs Nongrum chimed in. She was a small, petite lady with a sweet voice, deemed by most that’d seen her in her youth as the pretties. However, she was plagued with insecurities that would leave her agreeing with others no matter how bizarre their opinions might sometimes be. She had opinions of her own but voicing them out was something she never practised. 

“Do you not want to be better than the rest Aime, to be up there, to put your full potential to good use, to be your father?” Mrs Lyngdoh focused on the girl who had gripped the hem of her pleated grey skirt even tighter.

“I do,” Aime answered in a soft voice while reluctantly nodding her head.

“Then you have to do better my child. I don’t want to see that potential within you go to waste. For you, being average is not an option.” Mrs Lyngdoh looked into her eyes in earnest while her hands folded up the report card and handed it over to her student.

“Do you promise to do better next time?”

“I promise.” Aime immediately answered with no conviction in her voice.

As mother and daughter walked back home through the narrow streets of Shillong, the cold winter wind blew pass. The pine trees that lined St Edmunds School stood tall and graceful swaying from side to side. Aime pulled her school blazer tighter to her body trying her level best to keep warm. All she could think of was what her father would have to say. Being the strict, traditional, hard man that he was, he would not be pleased with her performance at all.

“Aime, be honest with me, what exactly is it that you want to do?” Her mother asked, her intuition telling her that Aime was the least bit interested in academics. She pulled out a woollen shawl from her navy blue tote bag and draped it over her shoulder making sure it was wrapped around her jaiñsem before continuing “You’re sixteen, you’ll be having your class ten boards in three months and after that, it’s eleven and twelve where you either make it or break it. There is no in-between.”

Aime looked up, watching the bulbuls spread their wings as they flew across the clear blue sky with no barriers to stop them. “I want to be anything else but my father,” was what she wanted to say but bit down on her tongue before she could. “I want to create a world, my world and share it with everyone else.” She answered her gaze shifting back to the footpath in front of her as she sidestepped another pedestrian.

“I don’t get you.”

“I want to write Mei. Create a world like Lord of the Rings, create characters people can relate to, create-”

 “Create a world of fantasy.” Her mother interrupted her before she could finish her sentence and all Aime could do was nod. “You can write all you want when you’re old enough; nobody’s going to stop you then.”

“But why do I have to wait till when I’m old? Why can’t I just take up English after my twelve and start working and improving on what I want to do? It’s not like dad doesn’t have the money to send me out.”

Her mother held on to her hand as she glanced into Aime’s brown eyes that looked like pools of honey when the light reflected in them. “It’s not that easy Aime. I hate to be the one to tell you this but the majority of the world doesn’t even know that we Khasi’s even exist. Forget the world for a second, just talk about India. They will treat you like an outcast because of the way you look and the way you think, they will find fault with your cultural background when they can’t find fault with you. No one’s going to listen to you unless you’re someone prominent. You need to find your voice and only then will people listen.”

Aime remained silent while her mind processed her mother’s words, wondering if the world beyond the Abode of Clouds, beyond the Khasi and Jaiñtia Hills, was that cruel. She couldn’t grasp the idea of being shunned by others just because of the way she looked and the way she thought. Never had she ever thought that being a tribal would be a problem since racism was a word she wasn’t acquainted with as yet.

“Your father isn’t going to be very pleased you know.” Her mother added as the two of them walked past a line of vendors selling a bunch of mouth-watering blueberries and sliced oranges which had a pinch of salt and grounded red chilli garnished on top.

“I know,” Aime sighed. Never being good enough was a concept she understood far too well for her age.

“He’s just pushing you because you’re smart and as your teacher said, you have a lot of potential in you. Whether you like it or not, he thinks you’re his protégée.”

Aime let out a long-drawn sigh as she opened the gate to let the two of them into the confines of their home. If only her mother knew how much she wished she wasn’t the one who had inherited her father’s intelligence. Ignoring her mother’s attempts to continue the conversation, Aime bounded up the stairs to her room and shut the bedroom door behind her.

While she undressed out of her school uniform, flinging her red tie on the bed, her mind kept replaying the event at school in her head. There it was again, someone wishing for her to be as successful as her father. It was either that or some other student wishing they could trade places with her. 

Her eyes fixed themselves on a framed family picture that hung from her wall. It was a picture of her parents, her elder sister and her eleven-year-old self, smiling into the camera lens while the four of them stood in front of the Taj Mahal. The last family vacation they had ever taken. Aime couldn’t remember the last time she spent quality time with her father. If she had to be honest, she felt like she never did. She would go days on end without seeing his face and even when she did; it was only at the dinner table. She had gotten so used to his absence that on days when he was home, she felt her movements were restricted to the extent that she found it difficult to breathe. It was as if a thrombus had occluded her airways.

“Spare the rod and spoil the child,” Aime mumbled the proverb that every adult in her family preached to her when she was still a child, as she pulled on her warm woollen sweater over her head and put on her soft fuzzy pants. The knock-on her bedroom door startled her back to reality and she hurriedly opened it to find her father standing there dressed in his semi-formal attire. She silently cursed her luck as she stood there frozen in her place.

“I heard you got your result, how did you do?” He asked taking a step into her room while she took a step back.

“I did okay,” she mumbled taking her report card she kept on her table and handed it over to him. Her father might have been a tiny man with brown skin and a large bald spot on his head but was a formidable man none the less. Blessed with the will to always persevere no matter what the circumstance, he had emerged on top and now belonged to the crème de la crème of society. Like everybody else with a fatal flaw he had one too, his was his temper. 

As his eyes skimmed through her marks Aime stood there griping on to the bottom end of her oversized sweater, anticipating the worst. He said nothing throughout until his eyes looked up to meet hers.

“This isn’t good enough and so was the last time.” He muttered under his breath, his anger seething just underneath his skin. What infuriated him the most about his younger daughter was the fact that she was gifted with intelligence much more than he was but wasn’t willing to put it to good use. Her willingness to stay average and not rise above when she had the capability of doing so made him want to pull at the remaining hairs on his head. 

“I know and I’m sorry. I’ll try better next time.” Aime mumbled the apology that was already resting on her lips.

“Aime, you are not a child anymore! When are you going to take responsibility for your future?” he yelled throwing the report card on her bed. “This is India, why don’t you get that in your head! Not some other country where opportunities are in excess. Your entire future rests upon how well you perform in your class twelve and if you don’t develop a habit and a proper routine now, when will you?” 

Aime flinched at the tone of his voice but said nothing, her head hung low and her eyes were glued to the ground not daring to look beyond his well-polished black shoes. She bit on her lower lip hard wanting to scream at him that an academic and research profession was the last thing she wanted. That she longed to be out in the world and gain whatever knowledge and experience it had to offer. To write untold stories on behalf of those who didn’t have a voice, to create a world for those like her who dreamt of other realms beyond this.

“Aime, you don’t seem to care that I work hours in the clinic for you and your sister’s sake because if you did, I wouldn’t be coming home to this news every time.” He muttered while Aime choked back a sob shaking her head violently, denying his accusation.

“I do care,” Aime added in a meek voice holding back her tears.

Her father rubbed his forehead in frustration as he watched his daughter stand in front of him shaking where she stood. He took in a deep breath and let out a long-drawn sigh before sitting at the edge of her bed.

“Look if you’re not interested in science that’s fine by me, but there is no way I’m going to send you out of Shillong for your Bachelor or Master’s degree. I’m not going to spend money when you can get both degrees here in Shillong.” He paused for a moment to study her and then added, “Is that what you want? I need an answer now Aime.”

Aime’s lips trembled while her mind wrestled with the decision wishing that she had more time to think. Leaving Shillong and experiencing the world beyond the comfort and safety of her home was what her heart longed for. To go out and think for herself for once without having her parents breathing down her neck, to be free. But her heart also yearned to hone down skills as a writer and eventually become a great one. She dug her fingernails into her palms as she clenched her fists tight, looking into her father’s expressionless face. Even though Shillong was a beautiful place, one everyone longed to return to, there was a limit to what a small town could offer.

She shook her head slowly and spoke in a soft low voice, “No that’s not what I want.”

“So what is it that you want?”

“To be just like you,” Aime answered with her head hung low.

“Are you sure?”

Aime nodded her head as a tear trickled down the side of her face.

“Alright then,” Her father got up from where he sat and walked towards her placing his hands on her shoulder. “You know you’ll have to work more than expected.”

“I know.”

“I hope you understand that I’m hard on you because I love you and I want nothing but the best for you, don’t think otherwise. We got here because I worked hard and made a lot of sacrifices along the way.” He paused to look into his daughter’s eyes. “Aime, from my experience I can tell you that success is something that is not handed to you on a silver platter.” He kissed her forehead gently before leaving the girl with a broken heart staring at the magical fantasy posters she hung around her room, the numerous books that lined her shelves, convincing herself over and over again that only time would tell whether the decision she made was the right one all along.