Chapter One- Don't Cry Over Spilt Milk

The voices filtered out of the house like smoke from a chimney. My father’s, my mother’s. I pushed open the door with a certain amount of trepidation. When you could hear my parents’ voices from ten metres away, you knew something was wrong.
As I walked into the kitchen to look for the samosas from last night, every word floated into my range of hearing. “Saawan, this is disappointing.” I could hear my mother’s voice, slightly raised. My father, much louder, added his word to hers. “We expected much better of you.”
I couldn’t find the samosas. I tried looking for the strawberry milk instead.
“How could you let that boy beat you? He’s new, for heaven’s sake!”
I found the milk and began attacking the seal with a knife.
I heard a series of mumbled words; my brother’s answer.
Then I flinched as the unmistakeable sound of a slap echoed around the house. I dropped the bottle with a crash and rushed into the living room. My brother, clutching a red cheek, whipped his head around. His teeth were gritted. My parents’ glares remained directed at him. My father, a tall man, towered over my brother. His greying hair seemed to crackle with electricity. My mother stood at his side, shorter than both, but looking fiery with her tightly plaited hair and her diamond nose ring. My sister, Pavni, leaned against a corner, eyes wide. She saw me and they grew even wider. “Laila, out!” she hissed. But I held my ground. I wasn’t going anywhere.
My parents finally seemed to see me as the low shriek escaped my mouth. They cast a final disgusted look at my brother before exiting the room. Pavni and I ran over to Saawan.
“Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” he said. “Blooming, actually. Literally.” he added, indicating the bruise now forming on his face and cracking a wan smile. We couldn’t help smiling. Good old Saawan. Funny even in the direst of times.
“What happened?” I asked, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to know the answer.
Saawan’s smile flickered ever so slightly. “Nothing for you to worry about, Little Laila.” But I didn’t miss the quick and meaningful glance he exchanged with Pavni.
“What are you people whispering about?” our mother shouted from the kitchen. “And Laila, this is disgusting! Look at all this milk everywhere! Come here at once and clean up this mess!”
Hesitantly, I trudged to the kitchen. The milk had caused a horrific lake right in the middle. I sighed. My mother threw a cloth at me. “Fix it. And do the dishes when you’re done.” Holding up her sari to avoid the puddle, she left the room. Great. Now I had to fix the Ganges of Milk.