“25th of the February, 2010”. She had nervously walked into our mammoth sized work bay, with a confused look on her face and bunch of bags in her hands, apparently one for a different purpose. Someone should have told her that her very obvious looking degree/certificates folder was not required anymore by anyone. She had got the job already, the same position that I had, Assistant Manager – Sales.
(How, is what I had found myself guessing?)
I didn’t mean to notice her for more than a minute. I mean “what the heck”, it looked like she wouldn’t be able to survive on the floor full of monsters in the name of colleagues, not the ones who drink blood, but ones who strangle your existence, steal away your well deserved glories and devour your opportunities. I’d been here for a while, and though I refused to become one of them, I knew their stench and recognise it well enough by now. That day in the office, I felt sympathetic towards this chic, the newly-wed to the AVG Bank’s corporate office – Sales division. She looked like a funny, confused and simple looking small town girl. I saw her settling on a seat alternate to mine, I looked closely, managing to escape her attention. She didn’t stink.
I was popular among my co-workers. Little did I do to outshine others, but I think I just mingled well and I was pretty to look at. Bosses liked me, men wanted to take me out for dinner and drinks, women always were sweet to me (though I’d come to know some of the most ridiculous rumours about me from here and there, which I obviously had laughed off). 90% of the time I failed my sales target, but I was good at the customer service, pretty good actually. I’d got to the bank the maximum number of home loan customers, back from the public sector banks through my cross selling skills. I knew I had a future here, and my bosses believed in it. Nothing could go wrong!
“Hi”, someone whispered from my back. I turned around to see the same stupid faced new chic. “Hi back”, I gave her an uninterested look and turned around, back to my computer screen (I don’t want to be associated with this girl, she looks so vernacular!). She handed over my pen to me from behind, which had fallen down and she had picked up. She was looking at me smilingly (and quite eagerly), which appeared to me as if she was hoping that I would talk to her, introduce her to people, or may be just hang around with her. “Thanks”, I said. That was the moment when I felt instantly protective for her for the first time and I felt she really needed my help.
Next morning at work, I thought of catching up with her. She was early, like me. I went up to her and said “Coffee”? She lit up! Wearing an old frame of glasses, with a broad unattractive smile, she was wearing a pair of brown trousers and grey shirt. (Old fashioned!) At the coffee table, I found her little overexcited and shit scared about the AVG atmosphere. The feeling of being protective for her grew inside me. I took her out and started doing that almost every day. Gradually I realised that she was indeed very sweet and hardworking girl. I had begun to feel that though it’s been difficult for people to get through the real me, include themselves in my highly niche list of friends and get to a level where I can give my ears to them (aside the time when I’m not talking about myself), this one was getting into the interior of me.
“One classic milds please”, like every other day I’d gone down with her to catch a fag. She was a non smoker and had never said anything to me for my vices until then. Evidently with a lot of courage, she took away the lit cigarette from my hand and threw it on the ground. “Never do that again Romila, it’s injurious to health. And you’re important to me”, she said. “Sorry?”, while I was still coming out of the shock, I had let her do that! In a normal routine, had someone dared do that with me, I would have brushed that person off me for trying to be and act like “a friend”. But I felt like giving in, for this stupid faced innocent girl, who had now become my friend. She didn’t stop and took a promise that I wouldn’t smoke again, holding my hand in hers. “Okay”, I promised, and I had meant it.
We discussed everything almost every day. From work, to bosses, to colleagues, career aspirations gradually drifting to relationships, love, sexuality, boyfriends, girlfriends, life as such. I remember time used to fly with Sarika. And one day, when the work was long over and we were sitting on the bench outside the gates, she whispered “I love you Romila”. Her hand went into my hair and we kissed under the moonlight. I had never pondered too much about my sexual orientation till then. Like a normal girl, I had boyfriends and I had had physically intimate relationships with them. It never occurred to me that I could be attracted to a girl. Quite frankly, Sarika was not just another girl for me. She was my partner, the one I shared everything with. The one who had suddenly become my source of letting out, my best friend, and I loved her. It had made absolute sense for me to kiss her that night.
It was almost a year to that day. It was a very special day, the day when our promotions were being announced. Everyone knew that I was moving to the next level and I was very excited about it. Sarika wished me luck in the morning but had just disappeared after that. It was almost decided that the next Manager – Retail sales division was Romila Kapoor, me! Like every year, we all got together in the staff auditorium. The board had taken the seat and the names of the promotees from different divisions were being announced. The next in line was the “Retail sales division”. My eyes were searching for Sarika. “Where is she?” I thought to myself. I was getting the advance congratulations wishes from my colleagues and my co-workers from different departments.
The chairperson announced “The next Manager – Retail sales division is
Ms Sarika Bhattacharya”
Did I hear correctly?
“Ms Sarika Bhattacharya please come on the stage”, the chairperson announced again,
I sat there. There was some confusion. But I could not think. My mind stopped working. I knew people’s defamatory gaze was at me now. It wanted to rip me off from my skin and I sat there terrified to see what was happening.
There she came. All dressed in white, the same white dress that I had given her for the delegates meet which she went to last week. I was supposed to go, but she said she had never seen Mumbai. And I willingly had given my opportunity to her. I had felt a little uncomfortable, but I could have done anything for her.
So did she know?
She took away the token and came down the stairs, with a look of achievement. I tore the crowd apart to reach where she was. She seemed to have seen me. But I think there were too many people around so she was managing her way through. I shouted “Sarika!” She looked away. It was when I ran to stand in front of her, she stopped.
I stared at her in disbelief, and before I could say anything, my breath caught a familiar stench.
It was the same monstrous stench.
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