tales of Suchita

Alka came into the employ of Maitreyi Dalmia when she was twenty and Maitreyi was forty. Alka’s mother was a cook at the Dalmia seniors’ house and that is how the two women had been introduced. Maitreyi had told her she would be the Chief of Staff and at the time, Alka had laughed at the title, wondering why an ageing, single woman who wasn’t a superstar would need a CoS.

But she had accepted the position. She had just finished her B.Com and had thought a graduate degree would get her somewhere but she had been disappointed when she had been rejected interview after interview because she had no specialization. Out of frustration and fear, she had said yes to Maitreyi, thinking she’d continue her job search while doing…whatever it was a CoS did.

Twenty years later, Alka was still here. She had almost left fifteen years ago when she had been accepted as an executive assistant to a CEO of a company. To be fair, Maitreyi had been extremely supportive. But the sadness and plea in her eyes had made Alka stay.

Alka wouldn’t say she had completely accepted her decision to stay, even though so much time had passed. She still, on occasion, dreamt about leaving Maitreyi and finding something more.

She didn’t like that her wish may be granted now because Maitreyi was dying. Had been for the past one year. This morning she had another one of her funny feelings that it would be her last. So, she had placed a call to her five friends, they had been eight but two had died, and three of them had turned up at her home, to bid her another farewell.

Alka sighed in exasperation because it was easier than crying or accepting that she would finally be free of the woman who had taught her how to demand more for herself, how to be a woman without the trappings of one, and how to make space for herself especially when no one else would.

Maitreyi had never married, and neither had Alka. Alka’s parents had been scandalized, hurt, angry with this decision but she had withstood all the venom they had spewed. Maitreyi standing beside her had helped.

It was only a year ago, when Maitreyi first came to know she was dying, that Alka had gone to them, heartbroken. They now had an uneasy truce, even if Alka’s mother was still throwing potential grooms in her face.

Alka snorted, picked up the tray laden with tea cups, chikki and mathri and went to the drawing room where the four friends were laughing. She had become as much a part of their circle as they had become a part of hers.

The first time she had met the bunch, she had been flabbergasted that forty-year-olds could make so much noise. Then she had turned green, blue and purple with envy when she had realized just how long they had been friends. Then they adopted her and well…

“Ah Alka. Tumhari chai humesha yaad ati hai,” said Charu as she took a sip of her tea. “My husband doesn’t make tea as good as this.”

Prem nodded, taking a sip and making a loud ah sound. He said, “Remember that time when…”

And off they went, reminiscing about school, their weddings, reunions, the children…and inevitably, the conversation turned towards the two who had died.

“They died,” said Maitreyi with a laugh, “so I would have company when I left. Can you imagine how boring the afterlife would be without friends?”

They didn’t admonish her for her morbid thoughts. They knew the drill by now and it was their way of making sense of the fact that their friend circle that had stood at a healthy eight was dwindling and would continue to do so.

“I still can’t believe Charu’s son and Yashika’s son are married! Remember how we had thought it would be such a dream come true if one of ours married within the family?”

Alka took away the tray and put the food for heating. She was used to the banter, the stories and the love. She had heard them a hundred times and yet, every time they rehashed an incident, they did it as if they were speaking of it for the very first time.

She loved it.

She hated it. Especially now.

When they left, saying goodbyes and love yous and see yous, Alka locked down the house and made sure Maitreyi was comfortable in her recliner in the drawing room. She didn’t like to go to her bedroom anymore, preferring the drawing room where she could see everything.

Maitreyi patted the chair next to her bed and Alka sat down with a glass of water. Maitreyi said, “What will you do when I’m gone?”

Alka said, dutifully, because this was their nightly ritual, “I’ll buy a house for myself, invest the money you have left for me, and teach children art, craft and dance.”

Maitreyi smiled. “You have been so good to me. Thank you.”

Alka wiped her eyes angrily because this was a part of their ritual too and there was no need to get maudlin over it. They had been doing this for close to a year. “And I hate you. Even when I love you.”

The laugh filled the drawing room. “If I die tonight, remember you were trusted, respected, loved and hated in equal measure.”

Alka didn’t stop her tears this time. She nodded, put her glass down, and said, breaking the script, “I’ll be here. Go to sleep.”

And Maitreyi did. Maybe fifth time would be the charm?

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Song: Lift me up by Rihanna

Check out the other posts for 2023 here. Written as part of #BlogchatterA2Z