Deepa Food House was deserted. It was 4pm. Too late for lunch, too early for family gatherings. She walked straight to the corner table and chose to sit facing the entrance. The bored floor manager ignored her. She looked around, the two familiar waiters were nowhere to be seen.
She was used to being ignored. It happened even when they went together for the mandatory weekend evening-outs. “Aahi let’s have masala puri today. Aahi we are ordering pasta.” How and when did it all tumble down into an entangled mess? Not that she cared. Nothing mattered to her anymore.
Her world had come crashing down when Neeraj had walked into what appeared like a superbly questionable scene. Kunal bare chested was sitting on their bed. She herself was in the kitchen making tea. The things Neeraj had accused her of! She and Kunal of all the people! If it had not been so tragic, it would be rib tickling hilarious.
“Anyways! All that was in the past. Get over it already” she told herself. “Let’s avoid drama” he had pronounced. The dotted line had been signed. She was free. Not a Mrs any more. NotaMrsanymore.
The sharp scraping of the heavy wooden chair reverberated in her spine. She looked up.
“Have you been waiting too long? I am sorry. Got delayed” he said. He was tall, with a slight stoop. He held his head at an angle, just as she remembered. His long hair had long turned gray. She was happy to see him - a childhood neighbor. She tried to smile an acceptance of apology, and gave up halfway.
“Those days in Railway quarters!” They both said at the same time. He broke into a boisterous laugh at memories. Her smile did not reach her eyes.
“What is your problem to accept the post? Tell me?” he challenged, while he claimed his seat.
“You know! I had to quit PaperKool because of all those disastrous accusations he made. I couldn’t look Kunal in the eye anymore. And the rest of the office too” Her usually rich voice spurted out in a high pitched squeak.
“You will be in the textbook division.” he offered.
“You know! I was always explaining myself to Neeraj. Why I don’t drink tea or coffee. Why I am size XL. Why I’m not on a diet. ”
“You source the content, coordinate with textbook committees and manage the product.” he continued, unmindful of the interruption.
“Why I must read before sleeping. Why I like to sing even though I can’t. Why we must treat our guests well. Why I can’t claim travel when I use carpool” she rasped, her blood pounding in her ears making them hot.
“You familiar with Excel? You might need to learn that”
“Kunal was a good friend, colleague of 7 years. That day his shirt got wet because of a faulty tap. My bedroom is the only room with a heater on. You know how cold Delhi is in Jan. He was drying his shirt there. How could Neeraj even assume anything else? Doesn’t he know me?”
“Some travel is expected. You’ll have fun.”
“You know the divorce did not come as a shock to me. He wanted more of everything. More from his parents, more from friends, more from clients. Do you think he was greedy?” She drew her breath in sharply.
A short span of total silence.
He held her gaze, in a firm quiet voice he said, “You are not responsible for his thoughts and actions”.
She sat with one palm over the other. He gently pushed the tissue box towards her. That’s when she realized that the tears were flowing. The dam had burst. He did not ask her to stop. He did not feel embarrassed. He waited.
The tears finally stopped.
“Ahilya, I’m famished. Some Masala Dosa please”
Ahilya laughed. A beautiful tinkling laugh. She gazed at him, at his gray hair forming a halo round his kindly face, “Thank you Sriram. Yes, I’ll take the job and the masala dosa. You did some magic. I haven’t laughed in ages!”
It’s amazing how you touch lives without touching them.
I have taken inspiration from the multi-layered Hindu Mythological story of Ahalya from Ramayana.
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Ratna Rao has authored 5 books of which 3 are Amazon bestsellers. Find here a collection of short stories based on friendships and hard decisions.
