Haunting Memories

Chapter 8

Ritika stood infront of the full length mirror, looking at her light blue sari. She felt strange, unnatural, like she was crossing a boundary. But she couldn’t hear her sisters complaints anymore, couldn’t tolerate the criticism and disapproval that she switched back to every few hours.

“I know Aarav died!” she’d blurt harshly, “But you don’t have to die with him! Get out of this place, and for heaven’s sake, get out of those clothes!”

Ritika looked at her reflection, at her pale, sad face, and realized that her sister was right, that she was slowly wilting. She raised her chin, and tried to bring back the lost authority and energy into her eyes. Feeling that she had done the best she could, she turned and headed downstairs, to meet her guests at the breakfast table.

Twenty minutes later, Ritika sat shifting a piece of toast around on her plate. Her sister’s glares had made her finish almost everything that she had placed on her plate, but she couldn’t finish this last piece. She loved toast, but Aarav hated it. He believed it was ‘boring and unsatisfying breakfast’. She watched Mr. Arora wolf down Aarav’s favourite stuffed paranthas. She thought how habits alone didn’t make a man. Now this fondness for paranthas was common in him and her husband, and yet the two were nothing alike. She loved one with all her heart, and loathed the other with all her being. He looked at her expectantly then, a waiting smile on his face, and she realized he must have asked her something.

“I’m sorry, what?” she asked apologetically.

His smile faded somewhat, but he repeated himself, “I said I’m pretty impressed by the maintenance of the grounds. If we remove the stables and sheds, we could set up a good number of cottages. Tourists love cottages.”

“Cottages?” she asked, confused. The thought of removing the stables and sheds shocked and pained her, and she found it hard to think further.

Her sister gave a warning glare, indicating that she was making her disinterest and rudeness pretty obvious.

“Cottages of the hotel, Ritika,” she said emphatically, “You know how these days hotels have both rooms as well as independent cottages. The hotel he builds here, you know, the one he’s been telling us about,” she stressed, “could have cottages all over the property.”

Ritika sat in shock, reeling at the idea of her precious home becoming a ‘tourist accomodation’. Flashes of hotels she had been to with Aarav crossed her mind, and though they were pleasant enough places to stay, she didn’t want her home to become one. A hotel was just a stepping stone in a journey, not a cherished abode. It was an investment, not a loved, taken care for, property. 

“I think that’s a lovely idea,” Anjana continued, turning to Mr. Arora, as he continued describing his ideas.

“Have you thought of, perhaps, just keeping it for yourself?” asked Ritika. As the words left her mouth, she realized that she didn’t feel any better about her home being his personal property than she did about it becoming a hotel.

“For myself?” he asked, confused.

“As a home, you know,” she explained, now that she had already spoken. Her heart filled with dread. She looked out the window for any signs of her precious horse Hero. She hadn’t seen him in weeks. Of course he wouldn’t be anywhere so close to the building. The jar of milk on the table reminded her of the cows and buffalos in the shed, and the family of farmers and caretakers living in the grounds. This home was so much more than she thought. She had lost one member of the great family of this place, the most important one of course, but still, just one out of so many. And she was ready to sell it and run away. Let this man destroy the place, sell it as an attraction. She felt impatient, agitated, and almost missed what Mr. Arora said in an incredulous voice.

“Who would live out here, in the middle of nowhere, all alone? Isn’t that why you’re leaving?”

The question confused her further, wavered whatever decision she had seemed to be heading towards.

“Of course!” her sister chimed when she didn’t reply, “It can get very lonely.”

“And spooky,” he added. Ritika’s heart skipped a beat as she jerked her head and looked at him.

“Spooky?” her sister asked warily, locking eyes with her.

“Yeah,” he said nonchalantly, “Huge place, in the middle of nowhere. That’s spooky. You gotta have a huge, noisy family to be comfortable in such a place.” 

Anjana said something in response to that, but Ritika didn’t hear. She excused herself from the table, ignored the widening eyes of her sister as they warned her not to be rude, and walked out the house.