Maya’s Pink Mochi by Mahika Bagri

Dear Diary,

Last night I had a scary dream. Maya, my baby cousin, or her maya, was in a kitchen I wasn’t familiar with. The kitchen was in a large one story with a low center, and in the middle of the kitchen’s countertop, laid a soft pink colored mochi. Balancing above the mochi was a mini pie cutter, which was attached to a black handheld lever. Something told me not to, but a small voice encouraged me to pull the lever down—and to my surprise, it was designed to cut the mochi. Amazed but also anxious, I looked back at Maya—remembering I was supposed to feed her. That was when it hit me.

“Maya,” I whispered. “If you finish eating in the next five minutes, I’ll let you have a piece of mochi!”

She tried to convey my aunt’s hesitation to treats in her broken baby English. I shoo’d my hand at her, and explained that her mom wouldn’t get upset if I only fed her a slice. Once she heard that, she finished her food in less than two minutes—completly devouring the mochi. I watched her for a little while longer, and decided to ultimately flee from the apartment, assuring her I’d return before her mom did. Once I closed the front door, I noticed it was identical to that of my old apartment. I was skeptical because the apartment's interior was American, while my old apartment was Indian. And within that same second, there I was—in India.

I was happy to be back in India, yet something told me I had to leave. With a heavy heart, I pressed the elevator button—skeptically awaiting its arrival. As soon as I stepped inside, the elevator turned into an old silver colored oven. I carefully moved around, making sure to determine where my next step was as the elevator/oven was much smaller now. I couldn’t find any buttons in the elevator, and accepted my fate that I would soon steam like a dumpling, but that never happened. As soon as I overcame my fear of potentially being poached, my fleeting psyche decided to take on claustrophobia as a new obsession. The oven started to slowly move down like a normal elevator, except unlike a normal elevator, it compressed into itself.

I figured by this time I would wake up, but instead I teleported into my Biotechnology classroom; the room was barely lit, with a small yet wide window bestowing the smallest glimmer of light. There were two students in the back of the classroom drinking alcohol, with a third voice desperately pleaded for them to quiet down. I looked over at my desk partner, Isaac, who seemed to have already been staring at me the whole time. I gestured with my eyes to the group of kids who were drinking, and Isaac nodded—imitating the crowd, which led both of us into a giggle-fit. The bell interrupted our eye contact, and I knew it was time for me to go. Where though? I wasn’t sure. I dashed in the opposite direction of the class until I reached the elevators. My school’s elevators were hardly used, but I pushed the button anyway. As soon as I stepped inside, I dove into an unknown abyss—guiding me out of my slumber.

I woke up in cold sweat with my knees buckled under my blanket. I fell in the middle of my kitchen, hearing a soft thud. I looked down and found I had somehow acquired the same pink mochi that was in my dream. As I calmed myself down, I realized it had been awhile since we had seen Maya, in fact it had been a couple of years. The day before, I relentlessly tried to convince my dad to plan a trip to India, and guess what? I need to leave for the airport now! I’ll talk to you later, Diary.

Thank you for the mochi.

Love, Mahika