tales of Suchita

Spending her summer vacations at her dadi’s was Gauri’s favourite pastime. Growing up with an acerbic sense of humour meant she often felt or was made to feel like an outcast. No one understood her jokes and she hated dismissing her sarcasm as ‘it’s just a joke.’ Her dadi though not only understood her sense of humour but also participated which made spending time with her something she looked forward to.

There was a corner of her home Gauri loved. A table smack in the middle of the house where a huge collage of book quotes, book covers, inventory list, post-it notes, and other knickknacks formed a picture of ordered chaos, giving her a feeling of warmth and safety. The table had enough space to put her laptop and she could also keep an eye on the old woman from there. The two had found this gorgeously comfortable single sofa two months back on one of their lunch dates and Gauri was almost always planted on it.

She knew her dadi was old but it had never been brought home to her so jarringly than this visit. Her grandmother looked old, drawn and shrunk. She had started to look haggard and unsure on her feet. Full of quick remarks and snap rebukes, she hadn’t even scolded Gauri for keeping her shoe-clad feet on the table. She desperately hoped dadi had not contracted one of those life-threatening diseases. They were still too young and had many more things to share before dadi could be allowed to go anywhere but the supermarket or the mall. She had even called her mother, threatening irrational things if she didn’t tell Gauri what was wrong with dadi. That had served no purpose except to scare them and put them on the next flight home.

Gauri sighed through her morbid thoughts and shut her laptop with a snap. Her phone pinged and she cursed loudly. It was an email notification with the subject ‘Dear Lemon.’ Thinking it must be from dadi as she was the only one who called her that she clicked on the email.

Sarla knew her granddaughter could sense her inner turmoil. She doubted Lemon knew the exact nature of the turmoil but she was smart, as Sarla was known to brag every chance she got, and she knew something was up. She wished she could tell her what was troubling her but she wanted…no needed…to protect her innocence for a few more precious days, because she knew it was only a matter of days.

So when she heard the horrified squeak from the middle of the house, she was transported back to the time when her namesake Sarla had made a similar squeak of terror just before she was killed by Abhor. Shaking slightly, her entire being preparing for a fight, she went to Lemon.

Seeing the girl on her feet, jaw quivering, looking here and there as if she couldn’t quite believe where she was, all colour drained from Sarla’s face. Before approaching her granddaughter, before asking her what the problem was and before she could point a violently shaking finger to her phone that was kept upside down as if that would help her escape the terrible news she had got, Sarla knew that Abhor was alive, kicking and ready to make his presence felt. It had just never occurred to her that he would take this route to threaten her. But knowing him, didn’t it make complete sense that he should attack the one person in Sarla’s life who she loved beyond anything else in this world?

“Baby,” she whispered. Her hands were raised and she was approaching her as if she was approaching a scared deer. “Lemon…”

Gauri looked up and started again, this time for a wholly different reason. She couldn’t believe her eyes. She went to rub them before realizing the woman in front of her wasn’t a mirage and she wasn’t hallucinating out of shock.

Sarla Devi looked transformed. Where she had looked old only moments before, she looked vital now, like she had shed eons of old skin and been reborn. “Like a phoenix,” she whispered.

“What?”

“Who is Abhor and why is he sending me an email?” Cringing, she said, “He must be an old dude if he thinks people still send emails.”

She couldn’t help it, Sarla laughed: a proper, full belly laugh. “What’s in the email?”

Her grandmother’s laugh helped soothe her nerves. “Dadi what’s going on?”

Sarla had been right. Gauri was attuned. She knew the email wasn’t an idle threat.

The more Gauri stared at her grandmother, the more changes she could observe. It was as if the transformation was still taking place, right in front of her eyes.

“Have I told you…”

“If you tell me you’re a superhero my god I will…”

Sarla choked. Then, “Well I’m not a superhero per say but I do have…”

“Please don’t say abilities…”

“…abilities. Lemon I am not pulling your leg.”

“You could be. You are old! I mean no offense but you’re like a hundred and superheroes are supposed to be…” she let out a nervous laugh. The strangeness of the situation was so palpable that all she could do was laugh in short staccato bursts.

“Yes you have reminded me this, every day, almost twice an hour, that I am old,” she snapped. “But it does not change the fact that I am immortal.”

“You are dying, isn’t it? And all this is just a way to help me cope, right? Oh I am immortal, I will always love…”

Getting impatient and frankly angry, Sarla decided to go full throttle with her superpower.

“Dadi are you okay? Why are you screwing your face like that?”

Sarla went back to her stance. No need to panic, she told herself. You haven’t used your powers in decades. They have become a little rusty. Need some engine oil, is all. She tried again.

“Dadi if this is your way of convincing – holy bejeesus ghost on the road – what is that?”

“Okay, okay you got me. Turn it off, dadi…please…okay please turn it…dadi stop it you’re freaking me out!”

Gauri found herself panting. The shock and power of what her grandmother had done was like pinpricks on her entire body. She would have exulted had she not been shaken to the core. Taking a deep breath she said, “So you are immortal and clearly you have some…” she gestured towards her vaguely.

“Yes.”

“And there is another immortal out to get you…ha ha…of course.”

“Of course.”

Gauri opened her mouth but then closed it. She knew dadi’s patience was wearing thin. So she chose the next question carefully. “Who is Abhor and what did you just do to me?”

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