tales of Suchita

When I first looked at myself in the mirror, I didn’t notice that my eyebrows were a little more arched than usual. I didn’t notice the pallor or the half-crazed look in my eye. Hey, I had a reason for missing the obvious. I was hungover. I had to attend the engagement party of my ex and his new fiancé who happened to be a colleague. I couldn’t say no.

It sucked. But what was I to do? Not show up like a loser? I showed up. And when I saw they were serving the good kind of single malt, I had no choice but to say thank you by drinking four large, neat. Heh.

Now, I wished I hadn’t had four. It was a Saturday, a day that was entirely dedicated to my entertainment and I had a raging headache, an unsettled stomach and zero will to make use of the free time. I could have gone shopping, or for a movie or taken myself out on a date. Instead, I’d be nursing this hangover and before I’d know it, it would be Monday again.

So, excuse me for not noticing that my reflection, though mine, wasn’t exactly mine. See, clear as mud.

*

The second time not-me made an appearance was when I was brushing my teeth on Tuesday night. This time it was obvious because not-me wasn’t brushing. She was breathing so heavily that the mirror fogged.

“What the,” I said as the brush clattered into the sink.

I took a step back. While a part of me was screaming run, another part of me that had always wondered if the multiverse existed beyond books and movies, was intrigued.

I turned my head to one side, wondering if she would tilt it too. Her eyes narrowed, but she made no move to copy me. I said, “What do you want?”

As if engaging with her had made her real, I noticed the sweat and dirt line on her forehead. Her lips were papery, white and I couldn’t see her hair. Did she wear them like me in a top knot? Or was she bald? Or was it the…sorcery…that was projecting only her face and nothing else, like those bad Zoom filters?

“I need you to find Mrs. Ruia Gulati. Her address is 182 Persepolis Mount Merry Hill Road, Bandra. Tell her Rekha dropped by for a visit. She’ll understand.”

I liked that she didn’t waste time explaining anything. Just demanded that I do her bidding. Was I like that too? Maybe that’s why my relationships tanked. I wanted to ask questions but she disappeared before I had even accepted the mission.

I saw the toothpaste around my mouth and started. Laughing, I finished brushing, thinking how time sensitive the message was.

*

Since I didn’t get any more visitations, I assumed I had time. So, I waited until Saturday before setting off to Bandra in an Uber. Google Maps didn’t show me Persepolis but I knew of Mount Merry Hill Road. I was in comfortable clothes, carrying water, sandwiches and an umbrella for the sun. I was all set to sleuth my way through this.

The driver dropped me at the church and I walked up to one of the stalls selling candles and asked her about the building. Her question surprised me.

“Who do you need to meet?”

Since I had been given bare minimum instructions, I didn’t hesitate to answer the question.

She nodded. “Welcome to the Ghosts.”

The part screaming at me to run was louder today than it had been in the bathroom. But curiosity won out.

“What do they do?”

“You’ll know once you agree to join us.”

I wanted to argue with her but sometimes I was too curious for my own good. “Is it a cult? Do I need to do anything? Listen, I have to be at work on Monday and if I disappear suddenly, my mom is not going to be happy.”

This was good. In one sentence I had told her people were waiting for me so she couldn’t just trap me into anything. I was so clever. Heh.

To my chagrin, she answered me calmly, “We’re people who are susceptible to spacetime travelling.”

“What like a disease?”

She smiled. “No, like a special gene that only some of us have. We’re trying to find more of us.”

“Why?”

She hadn’t once said I was taking all this remarkably well. She hadn’t once tried to shush me or tell me to keep my voice down. I had been standing here for five minutes and no one had shot at us yet. This wasn’t how I had been expecting it to go down. Not that I had the first clue of what to do if someone started shooting but that was besides the point.

“We want to create a resource bank. Some of us have memories that make no sense. Skills we don’t remember learning. People in our contact list we don’t remember adding. It can create dissonance and make living hard. We’re just trying to literally help ourselves, and each other.”

Something about her words made me scroll through my phone to a contact named Mrs. Ruia Gulati. The number had been saved in 2018 which was six years ago. I didn’t remember saving it. But I remembered hovering over it, even before the visitation, questioning why I couldn’t bring myself to deleting it.

“What happens if I don’t join? What happens to her? The one in my mirror? Also why aren’t you getting more customers? Are your candles from the future?” I wanted to pat myself on the back for that last question but refrained.

She rolled her eyes. “They can see I’m busy conversing with you and don’t want to get stuck behind you. Most people are in a hurry.” She took a breath. “Okay let’s answer your questions. If you don’t join, by tomorrow you’ll forget everything. Did you know this isn’t the first time we have met? You have been here before, twice in fact. Both the times you said no. It’s fine. We won’t kill you.”

She said that seriously which made ice trickle down my spine. Did that mean there were people out there killing people like me?

“She…the fact she sent you to me, Ruia that’s me,” she said pointing to herself, “means she’s probably dead.”

The screaming inside my head got louder. There were flashing red lights as well. “How do I know you’re telling the truth about me having been here twice before?”

“You have my number saved. You have called that number precisely twice. Check your call logs.”

I didn’t bother checking. There was no point because I had already made up my mind. “Fine, I’m in. What do I have to do?”

She stepped out from behind her shop and started walking away. I thought she was abandoning her shop but I saw someone else step out from the shadows. It was another Ruia, similar features but wearing different clothes.

Head spinning, I scrambled after my Ruia. What a clusterfuck. But ugh the curiosity.

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This post is a part of Blogchatter Half Marathon 2024