On a Friday evening, Neha incessantly tapped a pencil on her desk as she reread the SMS from her sister. Come home after work. Need to talk. Two months ago, Neha wouldn’t have thought twice about the message. Her sister, Ragini, older than Neha by five years was extremely bossy and her ‘need to talk’ could just as easily be about an unfortunate acne growth or a nail salon coupon. But events that transpired since than had changed everything, so that now ever since her mobile had beeped with that text, Neha had felt a persistent queasiness in her stomach. She checked the time on the corner of her computer screen. 4:59 PM. On most days, Neha didn’t leave before six despite being one of the first ones to arrive to the office, because her coworkers, who themselves didn’t saunter in till ten in the morning, didn’t hesitate to assign her tasks at the last minute and she was just not the type of person to say no. But today, as soon as the time in the system tray showed five o’ clock, Neha locked her monitor, grabbed her purse and shuffled towards the exit.
She was pushing the glass door with her shoulder when a nasal voice called out, “Neha!”
Grimacing, Neha turned to face Payal, office receptionist and gossip queen. The garlic smell of her staple lunch of curry and rice lingered in the air.
“Leaving early?” said Payal simply. A seasoned tattle collector, Payal knew that juiciest scandals could be uncovered by merely paying attention to the mundane. When Neha didn’t respond, Payal smiled and said, “New top. You’re looking really pretty today.”
Another trick. Get people to open up by giving fake compliments. Payal really was a pro.
“Thanks,” said Neha, tugging stray hair behind her left ear.
“Mom set up another date with a guy?” asked Payal, raising an eyebrow.
“Yeah,” lied Neha, and gave a ‘what can you do’ shrug.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her Manager, Raj Shah, approaching them. Neha’s stomach clenched. Raj checked his Rolex in a theatrical gesture and gave a loud sigh. When she looked directly into his eyes, Neha’s ponytail stuck to the back of her sweaty neck despite the AC being on full blast.
Raj glanced at Payal before scribbling something on a post it, neatly folding it and handing it to Neha. “Fax the TCP report to this number tomorrow.” he said curtly and left. Payal was watching the exchange with rapt eyes. Before she could open her mouth to ask another question, Neha said quickly, “See you later. Bye.”
Neha stepped out of the building and took a left turn on Kanakia road which was packed with office goers and college students jostling to get home amid the din of endless honking by rickshaw drivers. A wave of scorching heat embraced Neha’s body as if she had stepped into an oven. It was mid-June and temperatures in Mumbai would rise till the first rainfall of the monsoon season. Wiping her forehead with a pink checkered handkerchief, Neha considered her options. Take a local train home or go visit her sister? Neha’s grip on her purse tightened at the idea of facing her sister. Still debating, she happened to look at the post it in her hand given by Raj.
There was no number on it.
Instead it said, “Meet me at Café Coffee Day tomorrow? XoXo.” Neha smiled, the words making her shoulders relax automatically. She could picture Raj’s dimpled smile. Just thinking about him made her heart beat faster. Since no one at work knew about their relationship, they both had to go to extra lengths to hide their romance. At times, Neha wondered if it was worth all the effort. But things, little things like this made it all worth it. He loved her. Raj’s words strengthened her resolve and she hailed an auto rickshaw. The driver inverted the meter, the ‘tring’ an indication for her to jump in the back. In a firm voice, Neha gave her sister’s address.
Raheja complex was one of many luxurious apartments that had sprung up when Andheri was transformed from a boring suburb to an office hub. The building watchman wearing a grey uniform gave a half smile when he recognized her. Inured to eliciting a certain kind of response in men since she’d hit puberty, Neha reflexively covered her open neck with her cotton scarf as his eyes settled on her.
The lift came smoothly and silently to a halt on the fifth floor. Neha stood outside, her heart beating fast. The door nameplate was vintage Ragini- elegant, minimalistic, and adorned by two small metallic bells on the side. Neha’s back stiffened on seeing it’s familiar lettering-‘The Shah’s’. She steeled herself and pressed the doorbell again, craning her ear next to the door for sounds. Her hand was on the bell a third time when Ragini opened the door, dressed in a pink nightie, her hair wrapped in plastic rollers. She gestured impatiently. “Come. Come. Come inside. I was just on the phone with one of my kitty party friends.”
Neha took off her old, worn out sandals at the door and followed her sister inside, the spotless marble tiles cool to her feet. “So she calls in the morning and says I have to host the next get together…” Ragini was saying. The flat was a far cry from the live license flat in Dahisar, where Neha lived with her widowed mother, the flat’s walls covered in peeling paint and a living room window looking right out in front of a slum. In here, a square glass coffee table with sharp angles was atop a textured mahogany rug. A flat LED, (she knew it was LED, not LCD because Ragini had pointed that out before), was mounted on the main wall. It was a feat that Ragini could come up with ideas for renovations in this immaculate flat.
Ragini directed Neha to a low seating beige sofa by the window, sat next to her and continued, “And I told her there’s no way that’s possible, we are starting renovations next week. But then she said no one would be a better hostess than me…”
Despite her best efforts, Neha’s gaze came to rest on a photo frame hung on the coffee table. The picture was taken right after Ragini’s wedding. Looking at her sister was like looking in a mirror, assuming the mirror also gave a makeover. While both of them had inherited their mother’s fair skin and dainty frame, Ragini’s features benefited heavily from luxury spa treatments in Goa and expensive accessories. In the photo, Ragini beaming in a red saree, her hands covered in intricate henna designs had her arms around Raj. His dimples she had grown so fond of were on full display.
Neha slumped and lowered her eyes to the floor. Why in a city teeming with a million men, did she have to fall in love with her sister’s husband? This question had plagued for the better part of a month, before she came to accept it as fate. The whole thing wouldn’t have happened if Neha hadn’t accepted a job as an accountant in Raj’s firm. Somehow, working those late nights together during tax season had brought them closer than she’d ever expected. But behind the thrill of sneaking around lay a genuine terror of her sister finding out. And what would her mom say? Mom had a hard enough time addressing relatives why Neha wasn’t married even though she was almost thirty. If everyone found out about this, no one would forgive her.
“So finally, I just agreed to have the party at my place,” Ragini finished. Neha’s head jerked back towards her sister. She took a deep breath. If her sister had found out, she wouldn’t be talking about her party plans. Neha leaned back in the sofa, relieved. “You said you wanted to talk about something?” she asked.
Ragini stared at her for a minute, her expression unreadable. Then she said, “Let me get some chai for you first.” She went to the kitchen and came back after some time, setting down a tray with two cups of tea, a bowl of sugar and a plate of biscuits. “I’ve made the chai just the way you like it. With a pinch of ginger.” Ragini added two spoonful’s of sugar to both the cups and handed one to Neha.
Vapors floated aimlessly over it like miniature ghosts. Neha blew slowly before taking a sip. The combined flavor of ginger and cardamom burst in her mouth. She couldn’t help but smile. “Thank you,” she said.
When Neha drank the last bit of her tea, she put the cup down and saw Ragini’s face contorted in anguish.
“What happened?” said Neha.
Ragini burst into tears. “I’m dying Neha,” she blurted.
“What?”
Ragini nodded and blew her nose in a napkin. “Terminal Breast cancer.” She buried her face in her hands. “I have less than a month to live.”
Neha stared at her sister, her mouth open, hand clutching at her necklace. She hugged Ragini and gasped, “I’m so sorry…,” Ragini hugged her back and cried into her shoulder. Breast cancer had taken Neha’s grandmother and aunt, and now it had come to claim her thirty years old sister.
When they broke apart, Neha looked at the rollers in Ragini’s hair and said, “But..why didn’t you say something sooner?”
Ragini gave a watery chuckle. “You must think I’m crazy. A terminal patient planning parties. Dr. Patel says I should do whatever I want to in the time I have left, but all I want to do is live my life like I used to!” she wailed.
“Does mom know?” asked Neha softly.
Ragini shook her head. “I haven’t even told Raj yet.”
The mention of his name hit Neha’s consciousness like a meteor. With it came rushing back the reality of why she had been afraid to come here in the first place, and then slowly with infinitesimal speed the realization clunk into place, her problem was solved. She didn’t need to tell Ragini after all. What was the point in hurting her in her last days? She could wait for a few months and then get married to Raj. It wouldn’t look tawdry. Yes, in a way it was almost noble.
Neha patted her sister, her cheeks turning red at the relief the conclusion had brought her. Ragini wiped her nose. “I don’t want to think about this anymore.” Neha glanced at their wedding photo again. How would Raj react?
“Raj is very handsome isn’t he? You should marry him once I’m dead,” said Ragini.
Startled, Neha said, “Ragini!” But Ragini smiled benignly and said, “Kidding.”
Ragini’s mobile rang. She answered the call and after a series of ‘Uh-huhs’ and ‘Okays’ she hung up. “That was Raj. He’s coming home in the next fifteen minutes.”
Neha started to get up. Raj would have a panic attack if he saw her at his house. “I’d better get going,” said Neha, looking for her purse.
Ragini retrieved it from behind a cushion and handed it to her. She smiled widely and said, “Why the rush to leave Neha? Trying to avoid Raj because you slept with him?”
Neha dropped the purse. “Ragi- I-” she stammered.
“I knew. The whole time,” said Ragini through gritted teeth. Her hands were clenched into fists. “Did you really think I was that stupid? I read his texts to you two days before I got my test results.” She laughed bitterly. “Talk about a rough week.”
Neha was speechless. Ragini jabbed a finger on Neha’s collarbone. “Were you foolish enough to think it was love? Before you, I’d caught him with Payal!”
Neha felt a sharp pain in her heart and her eyes watered.
Ragini smiled. “You didn’t know did you? You really are naïve.” She continued, breathlessly, “I spent many nights thinking of ways I could kill you. I had to come up with a perfect plan to get rid of you without getting caught.”
Neha twisted her handkerchief between her fingers. Her eyes darted from the door to the tray which she just noticed had a small knife. She was rooted to the spot.
Ragini’s face had turned brick red. “That was before my diagnosis. It was almost a relief to know I would die soon, free from a rotten husband and even worse sister. I came up with a solution to end my misery and teach you a lesson.”
Ragini leaned closer and whispered, “You always liked my tea didn’t you?”
Neha put her hands over her mouth, her eyes bulging; she stared at the cup sitting innocuously on the tray. “What did you put in it?” she asked hoarsely.
“Cyanide,” said Ragini. “Kills in less than three minutes. This ought to teach you a lesson not to be a slut.”
Neha felt faint. She stared at the sugar bowl, unable to hear anything apart from her own heartbeat. She expected herself to lose consciousness any minute. “Oh God. What have you done?” she screamed. A minute passed, and Neha felt an intense pain in her stomach. She keeled over.
Ragini folded her hands and watched as Neha coughed violently. Neha’s breath came in hitches. “You’re crazy,” Neha croaked. She gathered what little energy was left in her and reached for her mobile. ‘
Ragini slapped her hand away. Neha’s eyelids felt heavy. She slipped in and out of consciousness and started frothing at the mouth. Then she started coughed violently.
The last thing she saw was Ragini lifting her own cup and drinking it.
“Don’t worry sister,” she whispered maliciously. “See you in hell,” and drank it whole.
