Fiction: Desertvadi, Rajasthan is a retirees’ paradise, but for Geetika, it’s a claustrophobic trap

Booba – I think that was her name. Perhaps short for Mehbooba. I was young back then, too young to know for sure. She told me I had sharp features, which was a compliment. I accepted it reverently. She told me boys found her sexy, but that she loved Sam. We giggled a lot at that. I asked her whether I was sexy. She said no, of course not – I had no boobs. I asked her whether anybody, any boy, would ever fall in love with me. She said she didn’t think so; not yet anyway. She confirmed my worst fears.

Booba was having an affair with her cousin, Sam, in whose home she was living. At the time, I was also living in that house, but only as the tenant’s daughter – not as an impoverished, fatherless relative. So he did not have an affair with me. Besides, I was seven years old and breasts-less. I took his lack of interest in me as a personal affront. After all, I did have sharp features. I took to jiggling my bottom at him. He told Booba he thought I had a problem with my feet – were they flat? Booba...

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