The presentation began to roll. Nice, understated music,
pastel
The smell of
self-satisfaction overpowered the lemon grass room freshener. A panellist of high achieving women sat on
the red carpeted dais, their eyes skimming the heads of awe struck but just a
wee bit intimidated audience. They avoided meeting anyone’s glance head on, one
never knew what one might be asked to pitch in with. Mahima, a young, earnest
woman, nearly driven into the ground with exhaustion and the burden of having
taken on too much held the mike, “Ladies and Gentlemen, at the National Mission
for Empowerment of Women, the challenge does not stop at empowering them, we
have to ensure they are able to stay empowered.”
One after another, the women leaders nodded and spoke,
sharing their stories of courage and grit. “This is a wonderful time to be a
woman,” said the nation’s topmost woman CEO. “The sky is the limit,” came from
the India Air Force’s first ever woman sky diver. Space scientists,
best-selling authors, national activists, renowned artists, everyone was eager
to contribute to the country’s feminine growth story.
Mahima was kept busy introducing the speakers, connecting
with the hall full of audience, coordinating the digital communication and
maintaining eye contact with the hospitality team. Her bosses looked on at her
with an indulgent admiration, missing completely her compulsive vigil at the
Samsung Galaxy Core Prime placed strategically under the lectern, but there was
no message from Sarthak.
It had been two months. Mahima’s heart was sore, a yawning
crevice splitting her down the middle. She half feared she was losing sight of
herself in that dark hole. “Thank God for my work!” she often repeated to
herself. “People like me in my company. They appreciate me. This is my home
now. I cannot depend on anyone. I am alone, all by myself. I cannot burden
anyone with my troubles. I have let my parents down. I hate whining. Everybody
is dealing with their own issues,” her self-talk had become increasingly forced
and obsessive.
To her numbing ears, it sounded like an explosion. Startled
out of her brooding, it dawned that the cracking sound was that of several
pairs of palms coming together in applause. “Mahima Dabhral… Mahima Dabhral,”
her name was swelling out and over the hall. “And as a token of our
appreciation of her outstanding performance, we award her the Star Employee
Badge 2015,” the man at the mike looked faintly familiar! She shuffled up the
two steps to receive the trophy, smiling vacantly at her startled employer. She
had called her Dad the night before, “Baba, I am going to be on the Forbes list
one day.” He had snorted dismissively, “You would still have to get married!”
“I walked out of my home. I am never going to call up Baba
and Amma ever again. I only have my cat. I am alone”, intoned the voice in her
head.
It was past 11 pm when she let herself into her silent
apartment. “Jerry, Jerry,” she called out to her cat. There was no answer. The
window was open. Jerry too had abandoned her. “I cannot trust anyone,” Mahima
collapsed on the ledge and began to shut down, a faculty at a time. The red
ants saw her from the tree overhanging the window. They began to pick their way
to her, beginning with her forearms.
