“I shall break down very soon if this goes
on”, thought Shuchi as she dragged herself out of the boss’ office. Her boss
had reprimanded her for missing the deadline, yet again. In a way, she was glad
about it. This could help her blame the gloomy expression on the scolding and
avoid the office jokes about the sky-high standards she sets for herself;
something that’s considered a sin for people with comfortable, secure jobs.
Shuchi had been obsessed with perfection
for as long as she could remember. This had been her identity throughout and
had always set her apart. She would either be ridiculed or held in awe, subject
to a person’s mindset. But she was certainly always judged; so visibly
dominating was the characteristic. As is the case with any human, the jibes
bothered her way more than the compliments elated her but neither of them could
change her one bit. Mistakes were still unimaginable and the word “almost”,
still hated from the very bottom of heart. “You cannot live with an almost
perfect pulse”, she commented often. And plenty of good did that do to her
career; her superiors disliked her for her inadvertent error-spotting (even in
their work) and her colleagues feared her for precisely the same reason. But
come crisis, it’s she everyone ran to; for you could rely on her to finish an
8-hour work in 4 hours if deadlines so demanded. Consequently, she had enough
certificates of “appreciation” to fill her boss’ office and then some but that
office, ironically, would never be hers because of the diligence that got her
the certificates.
It was one thing to behave so in office and
be isolated for everyone had to at least behave professionally and let her be
except the occasional sarcasm but these compulsions can never be left behind at
office unlike work. They tend to seep in to personal lives and define a person
socially. Same was the case with her. She could stand the passive hostility in
office but forced companions found it real hard to suppress their anger out of
it. One of them was her room mate.
They had come in contact through one of the
multiple online forums to find a room mate in the big, bad city. After meeting
up over coffee where both hid a few minor details about self, they agreed to
share the apartment, Aradhna had begun to deplore her within a month for
precisely the same reasons as Shuchi’s colleagues. Not that she could do much
about it as the security was paid and the contract demanded her to stay put for
a year. A year is long time to suppress anger for any human being but more so for
a woman who is fiercely aggressive and carries a dash of sadism as Aradhna did.
Five months in to the arrangement, both
could no longer stand each other; Shuchi would clean the apartment to the point
of dusting the ash tapped off Aradhna’s cigarettes from the sofa while Aradhna
would blow her lid if someone as much as touched her stuff. Arguing and yelling
their lungs out before falling asleep due to sheer exhaustion had become a norm
rather than exception. Aradhna had developed a habit of intentionally dropping
bits of paper or match sticks and pointing them out to Shuchi and Shuchi
compulsively had to pick them up and throw in the bin, mouthing expletives.
That was month five. Having completed 11
months, Aradhna could not wait to move out and struck out days on a calendar.
An eerie silence had taken over the apartment as they both knew it was about to
end soon. Though relieved, Shuchi was somewhat sad about Aradhna leaving but
blamed it on Helsinki Syndrome and went about business as usual. Aradhna, on the
other hand, could not wait to finally breath in free air. So happy was she that
she even went on her knees to persuade Shuchi to let her throw a party on the
final night. Shuchi finally agreed under the condition that Aradhna would clean
up everything before she left.
Alcohol brings out our inner self. Aradhna
introduced the game of drop-and-pick which she had been playing with Shuchi all
this time, and her friends began doing the same. For a while, Shuchi coped,
picking up trash but humiliation finally took over, and she slapped one of the
idiots. Taking a cue, everyone made a swift exit, leaving Aradhna fuming.
It was like the old days. They were both screaming
at each other, calling names. However, both knew it was the end of it and they
did not need to hold back. All the pent up anger was coming to fore as the
argument got fiercer and louder. Finally, Shuchi could no longer bear the
pressure and fainted. But Aradhna was not done. She had lived like a prisoner
for a year and now Shuchi had slapped her friend and she had to avenge it. In a
fit of rage, she lifted the dustbin and overturned it, dropping the contents on
the carpet. Still not satisfied, she started pouring fluids from half empty
bottles on the floor and went in Shuchi’s room with an aim to trash it beyond
comprehension. She was still at it when Shuchi came to. Everything after that;
the final stand-off, the smashing of bottles, the terrible realization, was a
blurry haze. All she remembered was trying to clean the mess she had created.
A week later, Shuchi was happier than ever
before when she stepped in to the apartment. With Aradhna gone, she did not
have to fight every night and she would find the apartment the way she left it;
no surprise trash waiting to be cleaned up or no book out of its shelf. She
examined the living room and decided to get a new carpet. Those red stains on
this one just would not go.
