Sarita knew her friend would not turn up. Yet, she was here, sitting in this upmarket coffee joint, on a lazy Sunday afternoon, waiting for Mayura. Once again, she picked up the menu. In the past one hour, she had studied this laminated sheet of paper so many times that she could rattle off what every item on each platter cost, and was sure she could now draw its blue and white emblem with her eyes closed.
She looked around her. Studying people had never been her forte. In fact, of late, she hated crowded places. But she had come here because she knew Mayura loved the Blueberry muffins they served. Mayura had discovered this place during their college days, and they had all thronged the tables here every Saturday and Sunday, chatting loudly over plates of muffins and samosas, filling this place with their laughter and liveliness. Of course, back then, this place was not as fanciful as it has now become. The interiors were a plain whitewash of yellow, the tables mundane, with simple checkered tablecloths. Years went by, the decor changed. Graffiti filled up the walls, the place grew bigger, adjacent shops were acquired. People changed. The waiters, the cashier, the visitors, the friends. Her friends? Sarita sighed. She delved into her bag and pulled out a tissue paper. She has started using the lemon scented ones recently, and as she wiped her face, the wispy smell tingled her senses. She relaxed a little. She is 35, already at the verge of what magazine columns called a 'midlife', and even in this cool November weather, when she felt herself slightly perspiring, she reminded herself to fix an appointment with the doctor.
It all started with Gandhari's marriage. Bhakti was next. Before Sarita realized, everyone was gone. Honeymooning, making families, settling down, searing kids. She was left out alone. To attend everyone's marriages, and now kids' birthday parties. Of course, they all caught up once in a while, over the phone, on family occasions, but they hardly ever came to this cafeteria again, to share their lives over a piece of baked bread.
For a while, even Sarita was preoccupied with untangling the mesh of life. She was in a relationship with Pritam. They met at a social gathering, right after college, and before she knew it, Sarita was falling headlong in love with him. A whirlwind romance followed with vows of undying love and promises of dying together hand-in-hand, Within a year, Pritam got a job offer in England, Each shed tears at the painful parting, and made promises of waiting for each other till Pritam came back to India. A few days before Pritam was to board his flight, Sarita's father passed away in a sudden cardiac arrest. She was so numb with shock, her grief was so raw, that when Pritam came to hug her goodbye, she did not react at all. The only thought on her mind was, how would she fend for herself and her mother, now that her father was gone? A couple of months later, when she had somewhat come to terms with the sudden demise, she wrote to Pritam. He never responded. She lost him. Their undying love died abruptly.
Sarita was very happy when she joined the same company where Mayura worked. In fact, when Mayura called her up to say that there is a vacancy for an accountant in her office, Sarita was more excited about being in close proximity with a dear friend, than she was with the prospect of having a salary hike. It just seemed like yesterday, Sarita sighed. Idly, she punched the button of the cellphone. 3:45pm. Very unlikely that Mayura would show up. She would rather text an apology, how her son suddenly scraped his knee, or how Upen planned a sudden movie, and, of course, how she would meet her in office tomorrow, and how they would grab a cup of tea at the cafeteria where she would explain everything. Sarita cringed even at the thought of having another discussion with Mayura. Of late, their relation had become estranged. She had become this agony aunt who was supposed to listen to all the woes her friend had, and any advice doled out would be fended with the standard reply, 'Forget it, you would never know, you haven't even married.' Suddenly, Sarita was an encroachment into everyone's space, which all seemed to be fiercely guarding. Every invitation she attended meant she would be introduced to 'mature' men, men with increasing waistlines and receding hairlines, who were supposedly doing well enough in their respective careers to marry a 35-year old spinster, and she was expected to pounce on this opportunity, fall in love instantly, and announce her marriage the very next day. And, of course, be obliged to her such dutiful friends!
Sarita was so lost in her own thoughts that for a while she did not hear her mobile phone beeping violently on the table. Wryly, she opened the message, the sordid thoughts still hanging thick in the air. 'Will reach in 10 minutes. Bye.' Her heart started to flutter. Ten minute and Mayura would be here. Then what? She had completely forgotten the reason why she had summoned Mayura here in this cafeteria! How would she muster up all the courage to tell her best friend that her husband was making sexual advances towards her? Mayura would be completely broken. No, Sarita would have to deal with it tactfully and delicately.
That ugly Sunday morning was still vivid in her mind, when Mayura had come home after delivering her baby, and Sarita had gone visiting. Upen had asked her to come upstairs to help him sort the medical bills for filing the compensation claim. Not doubting his intentions, she had followed. Once alone, he had forced himself on her, almost crushing her against the wall. Caught unawares, it had taken a while for her to respond. This brief delay had been an encouragement for Upen & and only when had she threatened him with calling Mayura and the neighbors with her shouts that he let her go. Flushed, disheveled, and at the verge of tears, she rushed downstairs, to Mayura's room, looking for support, for a shoulder to cry on. But Mayura was too preoccupied with the baby, and on seeing Sarita's sorrowful state, her only remark had been, 'Don't worry dear, very soon even you will sear a baby.' Sarita could still feel the sting she had felt that day, the heat of that insult warm enough to redden her ears even today.
Upen did not give up, though. She devised all possible means to keep distance - not visiting Mayura's home even once after that untoward incident, checking every guest list in advance to make sure she did not attend the same functions he did, making sure that she and Mayura did not leave from office at the same time, in case Upen had come to pick her up. Strangely, the more she tried to avoid him, the more she ran into him at every nook and corner of her social life, and each time he seemed bolder, and more aggressive. In fact, of late, even Sarita could feel her self-defense crumbling. On nights when loneliness loomed large, her in-satiated physical desires tempted her to take up the bait, to sail the crests of the tide, and return ashore completely washed in pleasure. But then, the guilt of cheating on her best friend would take over, and she would spend the rest of the night tossing and turning in bed, till she heard the ugly loudness of her alarm clock, announcing that yet another day has arrived, another pitiful day in the life of an aging spinster.
Of late, Mayura had developed this habit of praising her 'loving' husband at the slightest pretext, letting Sarita know how lucky she was, and not forgetting to add that Sarita was missing out on all the goodness of life by not marrying. Did she sense something? Did she spend sleepless nights as well? Suddenly, Sarita realized she was perspiring heavily. She got up and went to the washroom, sprinkled some cool water on her face and neck, providing an instant relief to her senses. She came back to the table, drank some water, asked for the waiter, and placed an order for 2 cups of Mochachhino. Mayura would be here any moment now.
Sarita would tell Mayura everything, and, with a secret malignant glee, would watch her expression as the 'lucky' wife gulped down the information that her 'beloved' husband was desperate to mate a woman who is nothing but the subject of pity in her life. Mayura would surely weep herself dry, and call up all her friends to tell them of this misfortune, and Sarita could not help but grin at the thought of all these 'happily married' women huddled close together, shocked at the thought of their unwanted friend being capable of attracting anybody on earth, least of all their husbands. All of them would furiously work their minds on all the parties and get-togethers where they had seen Sarita with their husbands together, preening information from their distant and fading memories, to conclude whether their husbands had been attracted to Sarita or not. Some would be glad that they are not in Mayura's shoes, some would start doubting their husbands, and one or two would use up their extra fragment of imagination to believe that their husbands had not gone to work at all, and that Sarita was actually sleeping with their husbands right at that moment, somewhere in a hotel room. But all of them would conclude that while they wasted their time educating Sarita on the happiness of conjugal bliss, their husbands had been devouring her. Like every other discussion they had with Sarita, even this one would end in a pitiful note, only this time Sarita would be on the other side of the table.
Sarita paused in her thoughts, shocked at the magnitude of her hatred. Where would this end? Should she really tell Mayura all this? Happily married, with a beautiful child, she lives in her own world of sunshine, rains and rainbows. Sarita does not belong there, true. She has a different world of her own, where autumns are long and spring is a memory. But what would she gain by bursting this happy bubble around her friend? A momentary feeling of revenge. Her ecosystem would still remain the same, but Mayura's would be totally shattered. Maybe, Mayura would know what kind of man she is living with, drawing solace from the fact that it might as well have been any other girl instead of Sarita. But what good would come out of it? There would be nasty fights, endless trauma, and in the end Upen would pretend to apologize and Mayura would pretend to forget the episode.
Sarita picks up her mobile phone and texts Mauyra: 'Sorry. Some urgent work came up. Leaving early. See you in office tomorrow.' Collecting her bag, she prepares to leave, smiling at the thought that the next time her friends sit down to discuss her dooming life, they would not see her invisible magic wand, which can hurtle her 'Cinderella' head-along, right from the castle and straight into the step-mother's home.
Sarita was so lost in her own thoughts that for a while she did not hear her mobile phone beeping violently on the table. Wryly, she opened the message, the sordid thoughts still hanging thick in the air. 'Will reach in 10 minutes. Bye.' Her heart started to flutter. Ten minute and Mayura would be here. Then what? She had completely forgotten the reason why she had summoned Mayura here in this cafeteria! How would she muster up all the courage to tell her best friend that her husband was making sexual advances towards her? Mayura would be completely broken. No, Sarita would have to deal with it tactfully and delicately.
That ugly Sunday morning was still vivid in her mind, when Mayura had come home after delivering her baby, and Sarita had gone visiting. Upen had asked her to come upstairs to help him sort the medical bills for filing the compensation claim. Not doubting his intentions, she had followed. Once alone, he had forced himself on her, almost crushing her against the wall. Caught unawares, it had taken a while for her to respond. This brief delay had been an encouragement for Upen & and only when had she threatened him with calling Mayura and the neighbors with her shouts that he let her go. Flushed, disheveled, and at the verge of tears, she rushed downstairs, to Mayura's room, looking for support, for a shoulder to cry on. But Mayura was too preoccupied with the baby, and on seeing Sarita's sorrowful state, her only remark had been, 'Don't worry dear, very soon even you will sear a baby.' Sarita could still feel the sting she had felt that day, the heat of that insult warm enough to redden her ears even today.
Upen did not give up, though. She devised all possible means to keep distance - not visiting Mayura's home even once after that untoward incident, checking every guest list in advance to make sure she did not attend the same functions he did, making sure that she and Mayura did not leave from office at the same time, in case Upen had come to pick her up. Strangely, the more she tried to avoid him, the more she ran into him at every nook and corner of her social life, and each time he seemed bolder, and more aggressive. In fact, of late, even Sarita could feel her self-defense crumbling. On nights when loneliness loomed large, her in-satiated physical desires tempted her to take up the bait, to sail the crests of the tide, and return ashore completely washed in pleasure. But then, the guilt of cheating on her best friend would take over, and she would spend the rest of the night tossing and turning in bed, till she heard the ugly loudness of her alarm clock, announcing that yet another day has arrived, another pitiful day in the life of an aging spinster.
Of late, Mayura had developed this habit of praising her 'loving' husband at the slightest pretext, letting Sarita know how lucky she was, and not forgetting to add that Sarita was missing out on all the goodness of life by not marrying. Did she sense something? Did she spend sleepless nights as well? Suddenly, Sarita realized she was perspiring heavily. She got up and went to the washroom, sprinkled some cool water on her face and neck, providing an instant relief to her senses. She came back to the table, drank some water, asked for the waiter, and placed an order for 2 cups of Mochachhino. Mayura would be here any moment now.
Sarita would tell Mayura everything, and, with a secret malignant glee, would watch her expression as the 'lucky' wife gulped down the information that her 'beloved' husband was desperate to mate a woman who is nothing but the subject of pity in her life. Mayura would surely weep herself dry, and call up all her friends to tell them of this misfortune, and Sarita could not help but grin at the thought of all these 'happily married' women huddled close together, shocked at the thought of their unwanted friend being capable of attracting anybody on earth, least of all their husbands. All of them would furiously work their minds on all the parties and get-togethers where they had seen Sarita with their husbands together, preening information from their distant and fading memories, to conclude whether their husbands had been attracted to Sarita or not. Some would be glad that they are not in Mayura's shoes, some would start doubting their husbands, and one or two would use up their extra fragment of imagination to believe that their husbands had not gone to work at all, and that Sarita was actually sleeping with their husbands right at that moment, somewhere in a hotel room. But all of them would conclude that while they wasted their time educating Sarita on the happiness of conjugal bliss, their husbands had been devouring her. Like every other discussion they had with Sarita, even this one would end in a pitiful note, only this time Sarita would be on the other side of the table.
Sarita paused in her thoughts, shocked at the magnitude of her hatred. Where would this end? Should she really tell Mayura all this? Happily married, with a beautiful child, she lives in her own world of sunshine, rains and rainbows. Sarita does not belong there, true. She has a different world of her own, where autumns are long and spring is a memory. But what would she gain by bursting this happy bubble around her friend? A momentary feeling of revenge. Her ecosystem would still remain the same, but Mayura's would be totally shattered. Maybe, Mayura would know what kind of man she is living with, drawing solace from the fact that it might as well have been any other girl instead of Sarita. But what good would come out of it? There would be nasty fights, endless trauma, and in the end Upen would pretend to apologize and Mayura would pretend to forget the episode.
Sarita picks up her mobile phone and texts Mauyra: 'Sorry. Some urgent work came up. Leaving early. See you in office tomorrow.' Collecting her bag, she prepares to leave, smiling at the thought that the next time her friends sit down to discuss her dooming life, they would not see her invisible magic wand, which can hurtle her 'Cinderella' head-along, right from the castle and straight into the step-mother's home.
No comments:
Post a Comment