Bio-data of Natasha Mehlotra
Full name- Natasha Sanjay Mehlotra
Status- Mediator
Date of Birth- 18th May 1995
Age- 14
Originally from-Pune, Maharashtra
Hair colour- Jet black
Eye colour- Chocolate brown
Height- 5'2
Physical description- lean, not at all muscular
My special talents- It is nil, nada, zero, zilch
Family- Only child of divorced parents
Nickname- Nat
1. Bad news
My name is Natasha Mehlotra. I am fourteen years old and my life is falling apart. My life initially started off badly since the 18th day of May 9pm when I first opened my eyes to darkness and was exposed to something ruinous. I could see people that nobody else could see. I could see people who had run their race and should be in heaven (or hell), In other words, the dead.
I always ask myself, "why me?" which is a very common question for various common reasons. I doubt you have ever heard a reason as bizarre as mine. I was only a harmless girl, for crying out loud. Now why would you torment poor me?
Don't take the "poor" thing literally because I'm really not. My father's side of the family is awfully rich and owns a huge mansion which is centuries old. My mother owns a three bedroom flat which is very comfortable.
My parents divorced when I was over a year old. I love my mother and we often visit my father whom I equally love. However, I don't enjoy the visits because the mansion being centuries old was swarming with ghosts. My parents often want to talk alone and tell me to scoot in a subtle manner. The more human reason why I didn't want to was- what could I do alone? The inhuman reason was-how could I do anything in a place which was haunted by ghosts in every nook and cranny and they were breathing down my neck?
Anyway, here's the thing. To worsen my life "someone" up there in heaven acted. This is how it all started. I was snuggled up on the couch watching the television with a huge bowl of popcorn (tomato, my favorite). My mom was on tour and I was taking advantage of her absence and staying up all night. She went by car from Poona to Bombay. Something on the news caught my eye. I quickly flipped the channels back and found myself gaping at the screen. I choked out a strangled scream.
Tears silently slid down my cheeks. I looked down and away from the screen which was displaying the bad news time and again. The popcorn didn't look as appetizing and appealing as it had a few seconds ago. I was already prepared for the full-scale bawling that followed soon after. I must have utilized all the tissues in the house.
"There has been an accident of a car and a Volvo bus on the highway. Nobody in the bus has been hurt but a woman in the car named Meena Mehlotra was seriously injured. She was taken to the nearest hospital a few miles away and died soon afterwards."
I fought the urge to break the television and scream to it the worst abuses I knew. I analyzed all my emotions- pain, loss, fear.
I had actually thought myself lucky since I had not had any ghostly visits that day.
The telephone's ring startled me. I picked it up without really wanting to and choked out, "Hello".
"Hello" It was my father."Nat I'm really very sorry about your mother because-"
"I know what happened" I spat. We sat in silence for a while.
"You can pack whatever you want to keep. My car will pick you up in the morning. You are shifting to my place." he said quietly.
I almost fell off the couch. "What?" I shouted. Then I realized that I sounded impolite. "Sorry, I was…..shocked."
Up to this moment only my mom had known about the ghosts so my father must have thought that living in such a huge house would be a piece of cake. Of course it was. NOT.
"Sorry that I can't provide you with perfect accommodations," he said brusquely. His voice was sad and bitter. I could hardly imagine him being sad. His face was smooth, without a single wrinkle–which was impressive for his age - and he always had a smile plastered across his face. "Anyway, I'll come at eleven in the morning" He hung up.
I ran to my bed and reality crushed down on me. I would never see my mother's pretty face. Her chocolate brown eyes copied straight onto my face. I would never again see her light brown shoulder-length hair and her laugh lines. We would never play games. We would never have a hot cup of coffee at eleven on weekend nights and tell stories and events of the week till twelve. She was gone. Why did He find it necessary to decrease the human population of India? If He had to why my mother, without whom I have never considered living.
It seemed impossible to be happy again. It is an emotion I don't expect to feel for a long time now. For the moment I would just survive.
Slowly my thoughts began to get groggy and darkness closed down on me. I fell asleep.
In the morning I cracked an eye open and wondered why mom hadn't dragged me out of bed yet. The memories came rushing back to me. My mom was dead. She would never wake me up in the morning again. Not in her human form at least.
I started packing, not looking forward at all to my future at dad's house. I took few clothes, more of my mom's things and along with them memories of the very best years of my life.
Very punctual, I thought when a car pulled up in front of the apartment at eleven o' clock sharp. I didn't know the name of the car but it looked expensive. Somehow I liked my mother's less profligate car better.
I clamberd into the back seat and the car began to move. My father was there same as ever. His crisp white shirt, black trousers and coat were well-pressed. His dark hair was carefully gelled back into his usual hairdo. Only his frantic eyes revealed that he had endured a sleepless night. I felt relief for a reason unfathomable.
"Hello", he said quietly. This made me see red. My mom had died and he's worried about greetings? "How are you?" he asked. I leaned foward and gave him a hug. He hugged me back awkwardly.I remembered all the times my mother's arms had provided me with the comfort I needed and a sob broke out through my lips.
"There, there" he said patting my back uncomfortably. He truly wasn't the one for waterworks.
I sat like that for a while then I began to feel a little imbecilic clinging to him so I straightened up and looked out of the window. A long trip lay ahead of me.
"Nice weather" he remarked after a while, atempting small talk.
"Mm-hmm" I murmured. After that he kept quiet. He by some unknown means knew that I didn't want to talk about the accident. I think somewhere along the way my eyes shut and I dozed off.
After a long time the car stopped and I woke up. We reached the most majestic mansion I had ever seen. It was hard to envisage that such a beautiful place could house such nightmares for me.
We got out of the car and entered the land of ghosts…...
2. Day One at Dad's Place
Keep calm, I reminded myself yet again as my breaths came out gasps and my hands became clammy with sweat. I fought to keep pace with Dad who eyed me curiously. I knew that he was hoping that I wasn't having the hysterics. Obviously he wasn't used to being around hysterical women throwing fits.
I would have laughed at my father's expression if it wasn't for certain circumstances which are very well in your knowledge. I mean he was actually scared.
I was sure of a few things-
1. I have to empty out this place (of ghosts).
2. I have some serious exploring to do of my Dad's, correction, my house.
3. I have to break out to Dad the sad, sad news that his unfortunate daughter (that's me) can see inhuman figures.
I'm so dead. I so wish I everyone I see is dead. Almost everyone looking at me is dead. I could feel their (the-you-know-what people's) curiosity arising. I doubtlessly knew that they were hoping I was their maid a.k.a mediator who will clean up all the mess that they have made.
Dad spoke then and I really wished he hadn't done so. "Don't you want to meet your neighbors? There are one or two houses close by." This was abysmal news. I had for my entire woeful life lived in a cheerfully noisy and bustling apartment full of jolly friends. Well, I admit it didn't feel like that at first because back then I was a freak, I acknowledge the fact completely. Then I learnt to make friends with the ghosts by trying to make them talk. They turned out to be quite okay on the whole other than a few violent singular cases.
One kind woman, I mean ghost, even explained to me why ghosts always come to the unique people in the mediator category. We are the only alive creatures who can alleviate them from the burden of roaming out here blah, blah, blah. It's the same old boring story.
Then from the most freakish girl of the century I became a normal girl who has heaps of friends and is very well liked in society. Now that I knew all that, a big burden was lifted off my mind. I could concentrate on studies and raise my F grade to a B.
I read a great deal and I have this huge craze for romance novels. I love singing and have been commented upon quite a few times for my voice.
From that moment I really started seeing the house. All the corridors and twists and turns I had never seen during my visits and had faded out from my childhood memories. All those happy days when mom and dad would be together and we like a happy family would laugh and play. Gone are the days of bountiful joy and unlimited laughter.
Mom would never want me to cry and writhe in pain after her death. Mom would want me to carry on with my life and not let her absence leave my barely started life in shambles. So I should give happiness a try.
"So where is my new room?" I asked- a failed attempt at enthusiasm. My father looked at me pitifully. I smiled at him widely to let him see how perfectly at ease I am. I guess I've forgotten something. What's the difference between a smile and a grimace? My father cocked an eyebrow at me. Suddenly, I felt as if he could see right through my soul.
"Yeah, you're right. This whole trying-to-be-happy thing isn't working." I sighed
He laughed. "Try harder." But I could see that his nervous laugh was a sham. I knew quite well that neither Mom nor Dad had gotten over each other. This was proven by the fact that the corridors were full of the happy couple photos.
Finally we reached my room on the second floor. I could visualize new my room, a plain white bed with an empty cupboard for my scanty clothes. Well, hopefully a bedside lamp of some sort. My old room was a tiny cozy place crowded with a bed, a bookshelf and a table overflowing with my antique computer with dial-up internet connection of bad reception and my schoolbooks which are hardly touched.
The door opened….. I balked at the sight I saw. OH. MY. GOD. This is so cool. The first thing a person saw was the positively huge window with breathtaking view. I could see right through the next door house's window. I wonder if there is someone of my age.
A bed with crisp white sheets took up the most space in the room which was about four times the size of my old room. There was a guitar hanging on the wall (something my mom refused to buy me). A wardrobe claimed an entire wall of the oblong room which was, unbelievingly, going to belong to me. The wardrobe's contents excited me to no extent. It had designer clothes, skin-fit jeans, tube tops, and every other item of clothing that I have ever wanted to own.
Then for the posh table which was proudly displaying the latest laptop and a mobile. I have never before owned one.
But the most attention-grabbing of all was someone standing beside the !
I ran to her and hugged her tight (mediators can feel ghosts).
"Um…Nat?" said my dad anxiously peering at the wall beside me as if trying hard to see something. I almost forgot about him as I hugged my mom and cried happy tears.
As usual, he saw the tears and felt the need for his departure. "So, I hope you liked your new room. I have to go to make some arrangements for your mother's funeral." He went downstairs.
"Mom, please stay. Don't go and scare me again." I said sobbing very unattractively.
"I'm sorry, beta. Just be happy." she whispered and the next thing I knew I was clutching thin air. I broke down and fresh tears stained my cheeks. I dived into the neatly made bed making it look more like the way my bed always looks. I mean, who would even bother to make the bed. I just stumble out of it, grumbling about the fact that I have to face another day of hard labor under the eagle eye of my ever-unsmiling teacher.
I heard footsteps outside my door and sighed when I heard the familiar cough.
"Come on in, Dad I know you are out there." I said loudly.
"Hey" he said as he opened the door quietly. "How are you?"
"You didn't have to do all this for me." I said not really answering his question.
"It's nothing" he assured me looking visibly relieved at my calming down. "I just sent the maid for a little bit of shopping, that's all"
"A little?"I asked incredulously. He smiled.
"I wanted to tell you something." Uneasy
"Spit it out."Blunt
"Sometime soon a few people will come." Nervous
"Who?" Suspicious
"Some friends and family" Not looking at me
I groaned internally and pressed a pillow to my face. My family is one you do not want to meet. I love my family, honestly I do, but this isn't precisely the best time to go and greet over a hundred people who I am not even sure belong to my family.
This has two reasons, a) their uncountable number and, b) this number keeps increasing.