The sun was again shining its brightest and it was still a shade crisper for a winter morning at 6 in Shimla.Snow was still a few months away, but a september morning could still be traded for an early jog rather than squirming in one's own bed or as Enayat thought better of it. She giggled to her princess sleep, still warm in her comforter as she enjoyed the martin singing outside her window amidst the mounatins almost 2500 feet high from sea level. And then following her usual routine of exercising well in her dreams, she again snoozed the alarm at 7. Wonderful indeed!
'I would be 60 once again' her head hammered with thoughts of gaining a second bulge to her neat waist when she stood on the borderline of being more than healthy. She was 100 meters from a public school, the largest a hilly state could afford, with a hell of 5 playgrounds, and the main building resembling a gothic castle. Not that she had a problem, but the cuckoo singing outside was no more alone, rather accompanied with children running across and panting in less than a minute because of the hilly slope. Poor them! she thought, remincing her own days. The worst thing was to get late and then pretend that its fine for you to run at an angle of 180 degrees with gravity.
'What's dieting?' Enayat smiled to herself, her small apartment coming together in two rooms and a large drawing-room. The sun shined through the peaks in the room floored with wood, and the doors made out of mahagony. She believed that drinking black coffee without sugar is the only way she could suppress her guilt of not going for a jog and then a banana would help her stand till the afternoon and then maybe she could munch on her pleasure of doing it all wrong. Being 25, and starving- wasn't a new combination to be honest. Every other girl did it.
Before it was already 7:30, she switched on the water geyser- as she purely hated lukewarm water. The relaxing dribble of steaming hot water, was the only medicine to crack a calming day or she might keep shivering on the mere thought of not doing it.
'Holy cow!!' She scream whispered seeing her coffee mug lying dead and broken in the wash basin, maybe because of its fearful positing and the grace of the midnight storm. She stressed hard to remember if she had heard the winds howling last night, or some other cascade which might have triggered the accident. But nothing came across her mind, and that wasn't new either.
Of all the nice things which were happening to her this morning, a call was enough to add a spoon full of extra misery. Laundry Lady- she stil refused to call her Riddhi, and that showed how much she admired her. 'Yes Ma'am!' Enayat pushed other greetings down her throat. 'Morning Miss Rana! Hope you show up on time today. People here have all the jobs during the day rather wait in a Laundry Shop, am I clear?' Riddhi mumbled in an I-have-to-say-something tone. 'Of Course, if you could mend my water geyser and its painful sweet time to warm my water.' Enayat shut the call after hearing a gap.
Anyways, her work revolved around two institutions (the substitute word for shops) a laundry and a parlour. The ladies out there were too busy to show there artistic skills than play with numbers and accounts- what she had done all her years during graduation. The laundry owner, Riddhi Sharma, was 35 years old, but still behaved that she was dragging all the soiled clothes of this world under her left arm. Still, Enayat thought that she would come of better after a scotch bottle left open in her vicinity. The beautician, the parlour owner was all about waxing, threading and knitting, and her billing skills were so horrible that whenever Enayat went about her finances, she struggled with petty sums of 50 and 30 bucks filling the register every minute. She barely had the expertise the beautician possessed and moreover was barely interested in threading of her eyebrows and upper lips every next tuesday!
With the pinch of chilly winter winds, Shimla looked colder than usual, and Enayat knew that the laundry lady is going to give her awful loads of work during the tourist season. She cursed the early arrival of weather which shall jam the roads leading to hotels and of-course her place of work.
Making it better, she took the daily bus to Bishop Cotton School, 4 Km, from her doorstep. She had no intention of wearing a bun, but she thought of wearing a new mufler she bought, which now sat tightened over her neck.
'Shit!' Enayat stomped her foot, standing opposite to BCS (Bishop Cotton School), without a bus in sight. 'Now, where do I go from here?' She screamed, looking at the watch which told that she was late.The laundry lady would barely understand the irreuglarity of the buses, and Enayat would be in no mood to make it any better.
Lovely day indeed! She spewed, as the clouds seemed to laugh at her with a spectacular grin.
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'Querencia Hotel, ahan...' Riddhi scratched the address of the hotel she had eyes for so long for daily orders. 'Perfect! No, don't worry..' She smiled through her teeth, checking a new arrival at the door. Her employ, the beautiful accountant who was just a pain in her arse. 'Oh yeah, we do things much better than what people would imagine, we take a lot of time while managing our finances. Not much greed lies in helping people!' She eyes Enayat with sarcasm, as Enayat fumbled in her chair. She laughed from her stomach, trying hard.
'I didn't know you were such a good actress, Ms Sharma!' Enayat was already peeping deep in her register looking at a stream of numbers and pen marks.
'I didn't know that you had no fear of getting fired either.' Riddhi went around the counter, sparing a look at the road outside, expecting no customer at 9:20 in the morning.
Enayat could never fathom on fighting when her employer was having second thoughts on salary or designation. 'There was no bus when I reached BCS.'
'20 minutes late today, 15 yesterday. And maybe some other number for tomorrow. And don't think I don't know how to calculate your working efficiency and then multiply it with your salary.' Her voice cut sharper across Enayat's ears until a washing machine beeped and the smell of detergent filled the lady's nostrils. 'Oh my good clothes!' Enayat parroted Riddhi, as she went away running towards her first love- clothes.
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Treacherous Truths
General FictionEnayat's life was bubbled around numbers, pencil scratches, and a few calculations. She seemed to love them until an unknown somebody enters with a world of stars and an alternate universe to leave her clueless one fine day. She believes that she ha...
