Somewhere between 8.30 and 8.45, in the
morning, on every week day I had gotten used to the calls of “where is my blue
tie, where is my wallet, where are my blue socks”. Most of the time they were
right in front of his eyes. Yet he called for me let me find it for him, give
him a glare, shake of my head or just hand it to him and walk out a winner.
The chaos silenced itself with the click of
the front door shutting, when he left. All that remained after that was the
memories of a sensation of rubbing against him to reach to the bureau chests
for his hanky and looking into his eyes while handing him his cufflinks lying
in front of him.
The quick volley of Ding Dong Ding Dong,
put an end to my sensations. I kept the half finished tea and walked to the
door and looked through the pin hole. Standing was a slim lady wearing a polka
dot skirt, a large hand bag dangled from her angled hands and her shades was
perched as a tiara. I opened the door and looked at her. She smiled looking
straight into my eyes.
Ruchi told me your address and I thought I
should surprise you.
My poker face stared at her twinkling eyes.
She was even more amused at me not recognising her. She cocked her slightly to
one side and transformed her bright smile into a naughty smile and I my rising suspicion
almost forgot to notice the morphing of the smiles and I narrowed my eyes to a
question. She stopped smiling and fluttered her eyes in mock offence and said.
Remember Sharmilee ?
Even on an over drive speed my brains came
up with what I expected. Nothing!
She had her eyes wide in mock dismay and
said...
Sharmilee from Gyan Mandal school roll no
48.
The coin dropped and my pupils jerked
themselves to 300%.
I screamed ....
Gangly, Potly,
and Sharmilee joined me
Rufly
I jumped and hugged her squeezing the air
out of her lungs and she reciprocated.
It is easy to be a misfit in a chic
gathering but Gyan Mandal school was neither elite or chic in our city, hell
even in the state. Even in that; Ruchi, Sharmilee and me were social misfits. In
class 8 we oiled our hair and our uniform Kameez was large enough for another
to get into it and hell even our shoes were polished.
The janta was merciless on us and teased us
to no end, we cried, sulked and even complained to the teachers but nothing
helped, until we took the fight to our own hands and outrageously named
ourselves Gangly, Potly and Ruffly. The new names breached the extreme that the
bullies could go to and hence they backed out. The names stuck and for the rest
of the 4 years no one dared to cross us. Couple of years more we may even have
made Gangly Potly and Rufly a style statement but then we passed out and went
our separate ways.
Ruchi and I were in touch as much as out
home and our respective husband’s social commitments allowed us to. Sharmilee
had dropped out of sight for almost 14 years before she turned up in front of
my home looking like one hot babe.
I dragged Gangly inside and dumped her on
the sofa and the barrage of question between pure glee, made us both
breathless.
Gangly stopped and asked me for a glass of
water. I was ashamed of myself for treating a guest like this and as if to make
amendments I pulled out a bottle from the refrigerator and thrust it into her
hands. Gangly hesitated for a brief moment and looked at the bottle but then
she raised the bottle and drank a few gulps.
I asked, chai or coffee.
Gangly replied;
Coffee if it is not a problem
Abe kya problem?
I shouted as I rushed into the kitchen
The milk had just started boiling when
Gangly walked into the kitchen and said
Wow what a clean kitchen.
I looked at her and asked
You have sugar or your hour glass figure
does not agree to it.
Gangly looked at me with an expression
which denoted ‘what nonsense’
1 and a half spoons please
The coffee was steaming in the mug and
Gangly retorted
Good coffee darling
I looked at her and asked her
Now tell me what are you?
Gangly looked at me her eyes surprised
I realised the stupid ness of my question
I mean you now... Mrs. Sharma or Mrs. Tiwari
Gangly smiled
Well I am Mrs. Bose and he is a software
engineer, heads a company in Bangalore
We filled each other on the 14 years in 4
hours and Gangly had me in splits with her quirky remarks and she surprised me
at her ability to laugh at herself.
Sometime; while Gangly was all praises to
the quickie of a lunch I had laid out and; I really cannot pin point the time
when my mind drifted from Gangly to Mrs. Bose. The dress she was wearing must
have been about ten thousand or more, her sandals did not look to be from India
She was funny, she was a professional, she
was rich, she had a class, she was genuine and she was everything I aspired to
be but was just not cut out to be. I was sad when she had to leave, not because
she was leaving but because she had become everything I ever aspired for.
Post dinner we went into our ritual of, me
narrating the incidence of the day and Shrimaan flipping channels with the
volume on mute as if waiting for something to come on. It did. I started.
Three of us were truly Gangly Rufly and
Potlly and look what she has transformed into. She is just perfect. Some people
have it in them, I don’t.
He had surfed though all the channels and
shut off the TV. I too shut up. He kept on looking at the blank TV for some time
and then spoke.
I forgot to tell you, I met Mrs.
Ramakrishnan, she had come to office to pick up Mr. Ramakrishnan.
I stopped him
You boss’s wife?
He nodded and continued.
She was telling me how all her friends were
raving about the shawl you were wearing.
Which shawl?
The one you embroidered yourself and had
put on for their 25th anniversary
party.
My mind was with Gangly and my voice far
away.
Oh that one.
Shook my head and looked away
It is not about the richness you know, the
style Gangly has is awesome. She is just a perfect lady, you can call her a diva,
yes a pure diva.
I looked back at him to see if he was
looking at me. He was still looking at his own reflection on the TV screen but
when he spoke his voice was clear.
A feeling of superiority or inferiority is a
stupidity perched on a pedestal, equating different to be superior or inferior.
He got up and said
It is late, got to get some sleep. You
coming?
I nodded and went after him, switching off
the lights.
An hour later he was fast asleep and I was
wide awake.
What he said was so apt, I also had the abilities;
I was a master cook, my home has been an envy of guests, my embroidery skills
was a talking point among my friends and their friends.
But see how eloquently he speaks, using
such few words, just simply and beautifully. I wish I could talk like him.
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