Till the Last Breath . . . by Datta Durjoy

Author:Datta, Durjoy [Datta, Durjoy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9789351182955
Publisher: Penguin Books Ltd
Published: 2013-09-15T00:00:00+00:00

15

Zarah Mirza

Zarah lived fifteen minutes away from the hospital and usually the roads were deserted by the time she got home. That night was no different. She was tired, both mentally and physically, after a long day of injections, tests and complaining patients. She parked her car at her usual place—outside the apartment complex. After six months of fighting and haranguing with neighbours and other flat owners for parking space, she realized it just wasn’t worth her time. It was just a car! Parking feuds were common in her neighbourhood and she felt lucky she wasn’t a part of them any more.

She dragged herself up the stairs of her apartment—something she did regularly to keep herself in shape—and put the key in. She tried it again. She kept jemmying the keys for the next thirty seconds but the lock didn’t budge. Locked from the inside? Oh no. This can’t be happening. Reluctantly, she rang the bell and waited for the worst. The sound of approaching footsteps made her belch. She wanted to run away. The door was flung open. She could feel the vomit in her mouth.

‘Hey, beta!’ her mom shrieked and then hugged her. The dupatta wrapped around her nose and mouth indicated that she had been mopping and cleaning the house.

‘You come home so late? Every day?’ she asked as Zarah walked inside the flat, her shoulders drooping, and threw her bag on the shoe rack. The house was much cleaner, and smelled fresh. She had never been messy—given her cleanliness-obsessed mom—but her mom still made the house look a lot cleaner. She wondered what had happened to all the bottles of alcohol—stacked in neat rows beneath her bed—she had duly collected to empty them into herself—or herself into them.

‘There is just so much work,’ she said.

‘It’s not safe at all. And this area is so dangerous. Only yesterday there were reports of a chain-snatching incident in the neighbourhood. I think you should get married. At least then we wouldn’t have to worry so much about you.’

‘So you would have someone else to worry about me, and not you?’ she snapped.

‘You know what I mean.’

Her mom’s rants went on and on. She told Zarah about the overage girls in their family who were having trouble finding a suitable match, and Zarah chose to ignore her concerns with a brief smile. In the corner of the room, her dad was watching television and had not noticed that she was in the room too.

‘And the house is so dirty. Doesn’t the maid mop the floor? And the bathroom mirror looks like it has never been cleaned. How much do you pay her? I will talk to her when she comes tomorrow. Why don’t you say anything to her? And you leave hundred-rupee notes lying everywhere. I am sure the maid flicks a lot of them. She will take all your money and run away some day!’

‘I am busy, Mom. I don’t have three hours to look over what the maid is up to,’ she argued and lay back flat on the drawing room sofa.

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