Joy Family

Becoming Jerusha

Part 22: “The Girl Who Forgot to Remember”

June to December - The Blossoming of Jerusha

Six months had slipped by like the hem of a soft skirt brushing against silk floor tiles.

The girl who once stood trembling in pink camisoles was now a social butterfly in the high corridors of Daisy’s Elite Girls Academy - a name she first heard like a prophecy and now wore like a second skin.

In school, Jerusha Joy had bloomed.

Her phone was now filled with filtered selfies - floral headbands, soft lip gloss, tongue-out poses - and every photo captioned with playful tags like “Snap queen 💗”, “Bestie Diaries”, or “Daisy Drama 🐝”. She had slowly become the go-to girl for classroom notes, shared secrets in the washroom with Aishu, and held the second-highest English grade in her entire grade.

Teachers called her “petal,” “angel,” and “dear girl.” And even when her cheeks burned with the burden of pretending, she smiled - because it made them happy.

At home, life blurred into a pastel-coloured fairytale.

She was now completely Appa’s princess - always sitting on his lap to narrate school gossip, or steal the biggest piece of cake while he mock-scolded her. He’d ruffle her hair lovingly and call her “my little star.”

Sometimes, just after dinner, she’d poke his belly and say with a smirk, “Appa, you’ve become like Santa Claus!”
He’d widen his eyes in pretend shock. “I’m Bad Santa! I bite good girls!”
She’d squeal, hop off his lap, and run across the hall - him chasing behind like a clumsy monster.

Maria would roll her eyes, grinning. “I’m raising two babies now. One with anklets, and one with a stock portfolio.”
Even the maid couldn’t help but laugh.

Jerusha would curl up later in bed, still giggling.

Her Life Was Sugar Now

Her skin had never looked clearer - thanks to the supplements her mother now gave her every morning. Her voice had softened into a slightly airy tone, warm and bright. And her closet? Overflowing.

Every day at home, she wore something new - a midi with polka dots and matching panties, a lavender hoodie with a bunny tail, denim skirts with heart-shaped buttons, a floral chudidar with glass bangles that clicked when she moved. And under each? The inners that matched - camisoles with tiny bows, boyshorts with lace trim, and soft padded slips that never let her forget who she was pretending to be.

She seldom thought of Kathir anymore. Only sometimes in dreams. And even then, they were blurry, fading, like water on glass.

December Arrives - The Joy Season

The big Joy Villa glowed in fairy lights by December 10th.

A Christmas tree, twelve feet tall, stood in the main hall. Jerusha decorated it standing on a stool, gold tinsel in hand, her anklets chiming each time she shifted weight.

Maria brought down a hidden box from the attic - Jerusha’s old Christmas star ornaments, labelled with years. They hung each with reverence.

Stephen gifted his daughter a wine red Christmas dress, velvet bodice with puff sleeves and a flared tulle skirt that sparkled with little silver dots. “Our angel deserves the prettiest dress at church.”

The Sunday school children now knew her as Jerusha akka. They loved her. They clung to her hand when singing carols. She taught them lines, helped a small girl adjust her sash during the nativity play.

After the program, as church bells rang out and camera flashes lit up, Jerusha stood between Maria and Stephen in their matching outfits.

Someone captured the moment.

The three of them smiling.
Joy shining in their eyes.
No one remembered the loss.

Packing for the Hills

“Jeruuuuuu, fold your thermals properly! We’ll freeze in Nilgiris otherwise!” Maria shouted playfully from the closet.

The day after Christmas, they were set to fly to Coimbatore and drive up to their hill cottage till New Year’s Eve. A tradition they were reviving.

The family buzzed around the villa with luggage trolleys and soft suitcases.

Jerusha giggled as she sat on the floor trying to squeeze a pair of pink earmuffs, two puffy jackets, her travel diary, and a skincare kit into a single suitcase.

“Appa, your belly looks even rounder today,” she said, sitting on his lap.

Stephen put down the suitcase he was zipping and squinted at her. “Santa again, huh?”

“No… now you're double Santa,” she said cheekily.

“I’m bad Santa remember?” he warned with a mischievous grin, curling his fingers.

“I’m not scared!”

She shrieked and dashed away as he chased her down the hallway again.

The maid stood near the stairs, laughing with folded arms. “Pavam Amma… you’re raising two children!”

Maria smiled at the doorway, arms crossed, heart full. “No… I’m raising Joy.”

The Luggage of a Journey

As they finally wheeled their bags to the door the next morning, Jerusha paused.

She looked at the row of luggage by the car.

Each one a chapter of her story - from the blue floral midi folded neatly on top, to the soft padded bras in one corner pouch, to the pink hairbrush with her name printed - Jerusha Anne Joy.

She felt a lump rise in her throat. She didn’t wipe it away.

The luggage didn’t just hold clothes. It held her transformation.

Her story.
Her memories.
Her surrender.
Her… Joy.

And as the Volvo purred to life and the Joy family drove toward the airport, Jerusha leaned her head on her mother’s shoulder.

“I feel like a real daughter now, Amma…” she whispered.

Maria kissed the top of her head.

“You always were, kanna.”