Moon at Half Past Noon

Chapter 1 – Game Over

Matthu hunched on a rough rug, chubby and tall for his age. Sweat beaded on his forehead. Thumbs slammed his controller. Fortnite flashed on the screen. “Drop Tilted Towers, you idiots,” he growled at his headset. His squad mates barked back. Ravi yelled, “Build a ramp here.” Priya snapped, “Go Pleasant Park now.” He ignored them. “I’ve got this,” he muttered. He sprinted solo toward the storm edge. His belly jiggled under his blue shirt. A sniper shot pinged off his wood wall. He swung his pickaxe. “Screw these noobs.” One last enemy loomed by the crate. He aimed his shotgun. Fired. Missed. Game Over blinked red. He chucked the controller.

It hit the rug with a thud. Puppa’s head snapped up at “screw.” Before he could speak, Ma hollered from the kitchen, “Stop staring at that TV. Help me already.” Aniruddh slumped low into the sofa, as if cushions could help him dodge Tarini’s wrath. He kicked the rug—prickly threads jabbed back—and grumbled, “My legs hurt. You’re ruining my game with this racket!” His eye caught the scene playing on the telly—True Crimes of the City flickered. Shadows stuffed a man into a gunny sack. The river swallowed it whole. She jabbed the off button with a flourish. He heard the gunshot in his headphones. “Not a moments peace,” he snarled and ducked an incoming machine gun fire.

Her voice burst in, shrill and off-key, “Don’t you dare bail on me after ordering theplas this morning.” Aniruddh grumbled, “Sacchi, this new client’s documents are a mess. My weekend’s shot.” Tarini fired back, “Come show your shameless face.” Aniruddh shot back in irritated Gujarati, “Hu avu chhu. Matthu na khatir toh thodi izzat rakho.”
He trudged towards the kitchen. Matthu adjusted his headphones and shouted, “Keep it down, you’re loud enough for the whole block.” He scowled. His fists balled up. This is truly my Anand Bhavan, he thought. Happy home? What a joke! He grabbed the controller. Thumbs clicked fast. He launched a solo game, darting across the map to conquer it alone.

Matthu lived with Tarini and Aniruddh. They resided on the fourteenth floor of a high-rise in Borivali West. He felt extraordinary, boxed in by ordinary parents who didn’t see him. He deserved more than this shadowed hole. Jutting apartment blocks outside swallowed the sun, leaving the flat dim even at noon. Harsh lights buzzed overhead to chase the gloom, stinging his eyes day after day. An air conditioner hummed against sticky June heat. A gray sofa sprawled with fresh cushions, sagging into two deep dents from Aniruddh’s weight. A glass table held Tarini’s cooking magazines and Aniruddh’s smudged newspaper. Tiles gleamed, scratched by Mango, their scruffy dog, who was snoring by the balcony. Shelves stood cluttered with Puppa’s files and Ma’s snack boxes, smudged with curry.

Tarini’s voice echoed from the kitchen. She was anxious to be done with her breakfast routine. She could handle her husband better, but Mathhu was a sassy smartass. “Kitni vaar I shout, Matthu?.” She called for him to have his breakfast. “You’re too skinny, beta. Come eat!” Matthu twisted his headphones tighter. “They’re too loud. Always fighting,” he grumbled. He kicked the rug and shouted back, “my legs hurt. You’re ruining my game.”Her shout carried over a sizzling pot like a missile. “Still on that bakwas game?” She stormed out, and froze at the TV’s gunny sack scene.

She jabbed the off button. “Aniruddh! Aniruddh!” she yelled. Aniruddh shuffled in from the kitchen. “What now, my queen?” he groaned. “This is what you watch with Matthu?” she whispered, glaring. “Your murder nonsense again?”Aniruddh blinked. “It’s off, isn’t it? I barely saw it.”“Because I turned it off, you fool,” she hissed, elbowing him. “Want him swinging a pickaxe at us?”

Matthu ripped off his headphones. “Screw it!” he shouted. Aniruddh spun toward him. “Game’s over!” he ordered, stomping over to grab the controller.“No way,” Matthu snapped. “I’m mid-match. You can’t just walk in and kill it.”

Aniruddh puffed up. “I can do what I want ‘cause I’m your Puppa. Shut that brain-fryer off.”

Matthu smirked. “Now you man up? You’re hiding from Ma’s thepla tantrum. Save your own brain first.”

Aniruddh bristled. “Tantrum? I ordered breakfast, not a war. You’re chucking controllers like a baby.”

Tarini chided in Gujarati, “Focus kar! You can’t even win with your son.”“Let me handle this, huh?” Aniruddh snapped at her. He turned back. “You’re done, Matthu.”

“Who’s the baby now?” Matthu laughed. “You’re scared of a spoon-waving dictator. I’d win the world before you can win one argument with her.”

Aniruddh’s jaw tightened. “Win? You’re grounded, big shot.” He snatched the controller. Game Over flashed again. Matthu yelled, “No!” Aniruddh gripped Matthu’s arm. “Let go,” Matthu cried.

“Off now,” Aniruddh said, dragging him down the hall. Tarini called, “Careful. My lamp.” Mango darted into Matthu’s room, tail wagging. Matthu stumbled. “You’re ruining everything.”

Aniruddh shoved him in. The door banged shut. The lock clicked. “Stay ‘til you chill—isn’t that what you kids say?” Aniruddh taunted. He puffed up, glancing at Tarini, who glared back, dousing his strut.

Matthu pounded the door with chubby fists. “Let me out. This is jail. I hate you.” He kicked. His slippers flew. He flopped on his bed. Springs squeaked. “You don’t get me. I want to leave your Anand Bhavan.“

Matthu tried to use words to hurt and blackmail, but there was no response. All of a sudden Anand Bhavan was enveloped in deadly silence. He felt the walls drawing closer, the red zone narrowing and narrowing until the game was over. His room felt small. Mango sat licking his face. He wrestled with him until he realised he was trapped. His father, the warden, was acting weirdly tough. Was it just to earn brownie points with the jailer, his Ma?

The bed had messy sheets from wrestling Mango. Mango cocked his head and stared at him. A desk held comics. A spaceship puzzle shone half-built. Dusty trophies said “Best Player.” A chipped bat sat from Ravi’s swings. “Oops,” Ravi had said. A gust of wind flapped faded rocket curtains. He waited. Minutes passed. He shut his eyes. He opened his eyes and glared at the ceiling. The clock was moving fast today. Faster than his heart beat. A light buzzed soft. This place traps me. I don’t need anyone. Gonna run. I will show ‘em. He crept to the door. He turned the knob. It was unlocked. They forgot. Dumb. He peeked. Mango snored. He heard muted words, “Help sometime, please.” “That’s all I live for. Just be nicer in front of our son, okay?”

Matthu tiptoed to the elevator. Doors opened. Cool metal dropped him fourteen floors to the lobby. He stepped into a hot and humid day.

“I’m free.”