I was assaulted by a mélange of cooking aromas as I strolled calmly and confidently into the cafeteria. I rarely went there, preferring to eat a home-made sandwich or salad at my desk as a way of keeping to a healthy diet and also saving every penny I could. Lunch breaks were staggered at the hospital and I knew they were the meeting ground for most members of staff who became friends. If I was to believe the gossipmongers, this was where romance blossomed and also where torrid affairs eventually waned when passion faded and the true personality of the lover was revealed. Heads turned as I walked into the cafeteria leaving behind a mild trail of Beautiful. I was looking around trying to spot my new gal pal when I saw a familiar hand waving at me.
Suhina had seen me enter the cafeteria. Should I tell her I was meeting someone? It was then that I saw that she already had a companion and how light-skinned she was compared with Suhina and me. It was strange how I had noticed Rupa’s eyes before I had taken in the colour of her skin. I felt an immediate sense of betrayal and jealousy at the easy camaraderie between the two of them. They knew each other, apparently well, it seemed. How come I had missed this?
Suhina rose and pulled back a chair for me. “Hi Gaya … meet Rupa,” she gushed through the introduction. “She was at school with my older brother. I was delighted when she joined the hospital staff.”
I wondered if Suhina felt a little guilty about keeping this relationship to herself because whenever she was nervous or excited she spoke too much and her hands flew around. Su was exceptionally expressive and could hold her audience spellbound. She was one of those people who could leave you exhausted just listening to her, but I really enjoyed her company. She had an amazing knack of lifting my spirits and nothing and no one fazed her. Now, as I took in her sparkling eyes and her infectious grin I realised I was perhaps being silly in my assumption. Suhina was too good-hearted and innocent to be devious.
“We’ve met,” I grinned back and took pleasure in seeing Suhina’s dark, sultry eyes grow large with disbelief.
“How, when? Why did you not say anything to me before?”
“We met this morning at the bus station,” Rupa filled in quickly. “I did not realise you two knew each other so well. This is fantastic!”
Out of this enthusiasm the trio was born. We were to share hopes, dreams, pleasures and sorrows, and we would become bound together by a dark secret.
Were we destined to be friends? I wondered.
I watched in fascination as Suhina devoured her piece of chocolate cake with gusto. She never broke out in pimples, no matter what she ate. She was blessed with marvellous skin the colour of unpeeled almonds, and she was voluptuous, with curves in all the right places. She had large dark eyes framed by to-die-for eyelashes (yes, I am envious of Suhina and her lashes!) and with her mass of naturally curly hair she reminded me of an expensive but adorable poodle. She was lovable and adventurous and she was totally in love. The only one who seemed to have it all … at least it appeared so on the surface – and I do know that surface appearances are often deceptive.
Suhina was in love, deliriously, madly, wholeheartedly in love. I could not help but envy her happiness and yearned for a little to be sprinkled on me. But sometimes I worried how it would turn out. When she was seventeen she fell in love with a young Muslim boy. Being of the Hindu faith, her parents had instilled in her that a relationship outside her religion would not be tolerated. With much heartbreak and tears, circumstances forced them to say their goodbyes just before her eighteenth birthday. They had wept tears of despair as they clung to each other. Akhil’s parents had arranged for him to be married to his third cousin and Suhina told me that he had no choice in the matter.
“What do you mean, no choice?” I gasped when she shared her romantic but heartbreaking tale with me. “Everyone has a choice.”
“You don’t understand, Gaya.” (She was the only one I knew who could make my name sound so exotic in that husky voice of hers.) “We were so young. We wanted to run away, lead our own lives, when suddenly his father had a fatal heart attack and the dynamics changed. His family relied on him for everything. We dared not elope. It would have devastated his family and how could we find happiness with all the guilt? We gave each other our virginities and we broke each other’s hearts. I could never hate him for what we shared was magical and what he did was honourable. But no man will ever replace him in my heart.”
I was truly amazed that Suhina had no bitterness towards Akhil: she had only love and admiration for the holder of her heart. Here was someone brave in her love to give the one thing we were taught to hold on to for our husbands: our virginity. Yet she willingly gave it up as a declaration of her love. Well, I had held on to mine like a good Indian girl and presented myself so proudly to Harendra on our wedding night – and look where that got me! I ached for some of her goodness to rub off on me but my bitter, broken heart was not going to allow that just yet. Suhina threw herself into her studies and when Akhil married she said she got very drunk, cried herself to sleep and woke with an awful hangover.
The years had slipped past and the girl became a woman, although the intense pain of her loss did not lessen. Suhina graduated with a diploma in public relations, took the first job she was offered and worked her way up. She housed her sexy body in feminine dresses and strappy sandals for work, alternating with seriously high stilettos and power suits when the mood took her, and she lounged in jeans and T-shirts at weekends. She bought herself a small 3 Series BMW and a single bedroom flat.
I soon learnt that Suhina was subtle in her defiance and anger towards her parents. I thought of it as passive-aggressive behaviour for each time they approached her with a marriage proposal she politely but respectfully declined. Suhina moved out on her own when her youngest brother got married. Her parents were aghast at how liberated their baby girl had become. She told me they were mortified, instead of being proud, that she had her own property, for Indian girls remain with their parents until they marry. Thereafter, they move in with their in-laws or into their own homes with their husbands. Never alone, though, for that was scandalous, the girl’s reputation would be ruined and no one would want to marry her. We were even expected to return to our family nest should the marriage dissolve, and naturally we did.
“What will people say?” her mother wailed repeatedly. “We will not be getting any more marriage proposals if you live like this.”
But Suhina refused to budge, quietly assertive when it came to her parents. I wondered if she was doing this to punish them for not giving her their blessing when she wanted to marry Akhil.
Then suddenly, out of the blue, the universe declared a different future for Akhil and Suhina.
It was one of those days that will live in my mind and heart for ever.
Suhina flew into my office and slammed the door behind her.
“Gaya, you will never believe this! Oh my God!” She was gasping, a hand over her heart, and I thought she was going to collapse. I feared she had had bad news – had one of her parents passed on?
As calmly as I could I led her to my couch (yes, I have one in my office) and handed her a glass of water. Between gulps of water the tears flowed and she sobbed loudly. I had never seen her so distraught and I reached out to her, pulling her into my arms. Although there was always a hint of sorrow in her eyes, she managed to remain vivacious, always with ready answers and a smile on her lips. I felt her soft curves against my lean body as she clung to me and my heart ached for the pain in her voice. Eventually she stopped weeping and when she could finally speak her words came out haltingly.
“I saw him, saw … him after all these years, Gaya, and I thought … I thought my heart was going to jump right out of my chest and … land at his feet.” She covered her face once again.
I was relieved that no one dear to her had passed on, but she did not need to tell me