Rajalakshmi was Selvan’s wife and Selvan, my husband’s colleague and supposedly close friend. That use of ‘supposedly’ smacks of some dissatisfaction on my part doesn’t it?? Selvan never tired of telling me how close he was to Sunil, my husband. Sunil, the silent one, would nod in agreement. His taciturn nature was offset perfectly by Selvan’s garrulous one. After my arrival into Sunil’s life, Selvan would walk into our house as before hollering for Sunil. Then as if suddenly remembering something he would apologize, step out and step in again with a courteous ‘Good morning Ma’am’!

“For a minute there I forgot Sunil was no longer single...” he would add jokingly.

I found it all amusing in the beginning. But as more of his possessiveness came to light all this show only got on my nerves. I prudently kept quiet. After all I was the new one on the scene.

Selvan was very fond of talking about himself. He also had an opinion about everything under the sun. A little on the heavy side, he had a slight limp, the legacy of an accident he had been in. He drank like a fish and it goes without saying that what he drank wasn’t just water.

Some months after I met him, Selvan’s marriage was fixed. He was all smiles when he returned with the news.

“She is only fifteen!” he told us. He was thirty.

Knowing his exaggerating ways most all of us took it with a pinch of salt. Still we were curious. We didn’t have to wait long. Selvan soon went home. We got our first news from Sunder who had gone to attend the wedding as our representative.

“Is she really fifteen??” he was asked.

Sunder thought for a moment and said tongue in cheek,

“More like thirty-five if you ask me.”

There were sniggers all around.

The day arrived when Selvan was to reach with his new bride. As was the custom, the youngest married couple, Sunil and I, went to receive the newlyweds. The day found us braving the morning chill at the railway station.

Selvan was off the train first, hollering Sunil’s name as usual. Rajalakshmi followed behind. Of course she did not look thirty-five, but then neither did she look anywhere near fifteen.

She resembled some south Indian movie star. Dusky complexioned with huge eyes that dominated her face and a charming smile, she could definitely be termed attractive. She wore a sari, her long plait swinging as she walked. Only the jasmine flowers were missing to complete the picture of a girl from Tamil Nadu. On the plump side she matched Selvan’s portly frame.

As soon as we were introduced, she started talking to me animatedly as if we were long lost friends. Selvan had already briefed her about his close friend Sunil. And I was to be hers by default! Friendships have to grow and aren’t made to order for me. I winced at her show of overt closeness at our very first meeting.

“We are going to be friends,” she declared, a few minutes into our meeting.

She elaborated on how. I knew I was the elder and more educated of the two. But on the journey back I had the feeling of being a clumsy new comer! She didn’t seem fazed by this new place, far from and different from her own small town. When we got down and were walking to our rooms, she stopped, quickly removed the golden colored hairclips with primroses she had in her hair and offered it to me. I was taken aback. I wouldn’t be seen dead in one of those things. I somehow managed to decline her generous offer citing my bobbed hair as the reason. Now she dropped another bomb.

“We are like sisters. We’ll exchange our saris too!”

Catch fastidious me exchanging saris with someone even if that someone was my husband’s best friend’s wife! Before I could respond, she fired the next question.

“Do you like this sari??”

She pointed to the one she was wearing. Already confused by her onslaught till then, I smiled dubiously. Magnanimously she said,

“Take it! It is yours!”

Horrified, I spoke up,

“Oh no, I wouldn’t dream of it. Thank you anyway.”

I mumbled about seeing to breakfast making good my escape.

I don’t know what Selvan had been telling her. But she really had gotten into her head that though we lived in different rooms we were one family or something of the sort. I was irritated at this approach of hers. She borrowed things from me left, right and centre. She walked in and out treating my home as her own. Privacy became a forgotten word. All through this Sunil kept quiet. ‘What if she wants to wear a sari of yours or insists on doing something her way in our kitchen’ was his attitude. Oh these women!! We were staying in adjacent rooms awaiting our turn for government quarters. Avoiding her was impossible. Luckily she made some new friends and took to visiting each one. Selvan was proud about that. I could see he thought me a fuddy-duddy homebody compared to Rajalakshmi. I couldn’t care less.

Fortunately for me Sunil got a house soon and we moved. But I found to my chagrin that there was nothing fortunate about it. Selvan and Rajalaksmi walked in whenever they wished. After all weren’t we one family?? They would have lunch or dinner as the case may be and sit for hours talking. To be fair it was not as if Rajalakshmi didn’t help. The problem was she took over my kitchen treating me like some novice. I was unwell those days. These visits put a strain on me. On top of that Selvan took it upon himself to tick me off for causing worry to Sunil. Selvan seemed to think my being unwell was all imaginary. I was incensed. Sunil just kept mum. That did it. I tolerated his friends at all times of the day and night, while he wouldn’t even speak up for me! I had a show down with Sunil that night after they left.

Soon I left for home for my first delivery. Selvan hadn’t been allotted quarters yet. Sunil, ever generous, offered our house with all its contents to Selvan and Rajalakshmi. Sunil himself would be away on deputation. When I returned after seven months, I found the refrigerator malfunctioning, the non-stick tawa with its coating all gone, a melamine plate all melted, glassware broken and even a small bedside table missing.

Selvan and Rajalakshmi had by now moved to an apartment right above ours. I really had to call on those reserves of patience now. The borrowings and interferences continued. Rajalakshmi would walk in, open the refrigerator and glance in casually. When she returned home the servant would be sent with requests for whatever she had espied in my fridge. Sometimes it would be tomatoes which cost the earth in summers, or it would be some ginger or green chilly or some vegetable she just needed!! I simply sent it over. I had given up.

Rajalakshm’s circle of friends had widened. But she was still the small town girl walking in unannounced, spending endless hours talking irrespective of the inconvenience to her hostess. Most men were away on duty and the ladies she visited didn’t object out of politeness. But her modus operandi of dropping in and waiting to be invited for food got people tittering behind her back. She had at least one meal with me.

One incident doing the rounds that I heard about on my return was what occurred when Rajalakshmi visited Mrs.Sunder. They were chatting in the sitting room. Sunder who was home at the time, called out to his wife from the bathroom. He needed something or other. Mrs.Sunder excused herself and walked in to the bedroom. Sunder I heard was standing at the door of the bathroom waiting for his wife, when who should walk in right behind her than Rajalakshmi?! Whoever recounted the tale would go into paroxysms at this point. Sunder it seems jumped nimbly back into the bathroom shutting the door swiftly. His puzzled wife turned around only to find Rajalakshmi behind her. Of course not even his wife who broke the story to the outside world is forthcoming about Sunder’s dress code at the time. Now I wonder which small town girl lacks sense enough not to follow a lady to her bedroom when her husband is calling?! It made me wonder whether she was innocent or plain stupid. The joke that did the rounds was that any husband who was home locked himself in when he saw her on the horizon.

She had another annoying habit. She stared, especially at men. It is debatable at this point whom it annoyed more, the husbands or the wives! It is said that the Menons hatched a plot. Mr.Menon was to stare right back at her while Mrs.Menon went to make tea. Within seconds Rajalakshmi was in the kitchen!

They had dosa parties going for all colleagues on Sundays. Making huge quantities of batter ruined her mixer. So she came to me one day with soaked rice and dal. She wanted it ground for dosa. I myself refrained from using the mixer because my baby would start screaming the second he heard its motor. She had a solution to that. She would look after the baby while I did the grinding. I complied quietly. When Sunil returned home and found me making batter for her, he frowned. The amount he spent for repairing the fridge probably rankled. Perhaps the mixer’s uncertain future made him tell me sternly,

“You tell her you cannot!”

“They are your friends!” I said innocently. “I was only being helpful to them…”

He frowned some more. I smiled secretly. If a conked out mixer would make things clearer to him, I was willing to sacrifice not one but two.

Rajalakshmi was in the family way. She soon took to lying royally in bed and ordering her servant about with,

“Zara paani dena”

“Zara biscuit laana”

She had become quite conversant in Hindi by then. I told her that being active helps. She was active alright in visiting others. At home she lay in bed, waited upon hand and foot. She duly went home for her delivery, returning in time with a beautiful daughter, an active but extremely thin child. I remembered how Selvan chastised me while pregnant that my child would resemble those seen in famine-stricken countries. My son was born with just the right weight and was a chubby baby. There was justice after all.

With a daughter on the scene, Rajalakshmi's eyes were now on for my son, of course for her daughter! She let this drop quite a few times in conversations as if establishing her rights. I chose to laugh it off. She was totally enamored of the idea, so much so that she resented my friendship with Reena who had a daughter too. My naughty son enjoyed pushing Reena’s daughter, making her fall. Reena and I were laughing about how her smart baby ensured that my son was kept at bay by needlessly crying out at regular intervals whether pushed or not. Unaware to us Rajalakshmi was listening. She butted in with,

“But your baby is only a few months younger to him!”

We both stared at her not comprehending.

“My Ria is perfect for him!” she added.

We almost died, Reena and I, choking on our laughter.

One day Selvan sent word asking to borrow a favorite long winter coat of Sunil’s. They were off on a holiday to Srinagar. Days elapsed. Selvan had returned from his holiday. Yet the coat did not find its way home. Sunil waited impatiently, fretting and fuming. I didn’t commiserate with him. I was enjoying his discomfiture. It was time he realized on his own, how his friend was taking undue advantage of him. Of course anything I said would be misconstrued as from a jealous possessive wife! When one day he found Selvan roaming the market wearing his precious coat, he returned home and sent word for his coat to be returned as he needed it urgently. His favorite coat played the role of the last straw on the camel’s back!

When we went our different ways after a few years, we never bothered to keep in touch. Years later we did meet them. Cute Ria, now twelve, unlike her childhood self was now a plump child. As we all sat talking, Ria came running in to ask whether she could go to the playground with my son. I’ll never forget the indulgent look on Rajalakshmi’s face as she looked at the pair of them.

“Jao, jaake khelo!” she said fondly watching them till they were out of her line of sight. All this was not lost on me. Later that night I joked with Sunil,

“She still wants our son for Ria!”

Some more years have now elapsed. My son is now of a marriageable age. I wonder where Selvan and Rajalakshmi are!!!!