I found her leaning against my old fiat. She appeared to be on the wrong side of 40s and looked carefully disheveled. A string of beads adorned her neck. She wore her salt and pepper hair in a loose chignon. I could not detect any make-up. She was draped in an expensive torquise saree, matching blouse, and throng sandals.
She fished out a sachet of Gutkaa (a mixture of tobacco, areca-nuts, catechu, etc) from her bag, tore it open and deposited the contents in her mouth.
Her garb and overall demeanor was – intimidating. However, her eyes were different. The scleras were purest of white and the corneas an indeterminate rusty. They reminded me of the eyes of an infant and that of a very old person at the same time.
I took out my car keys and approached the door, expecting her to move off.
She kept leaning against the car door and said ………. ‘Want something’
I smiled sardonically and sneered at her……..’I am calling the police’
She kept on smiling, I mean no harm whatsoever, consider me as a mentor who can help you..’
‘I don’t need any mentors’ I shouted quite red in the face embarrassed by the apprehension of being seen by an acquaintance with this hooker.
The woman spoke very softly ‘I know you have failed in all your sales bids. This month you will just receive your peanut of a salary without any commission’.
‘Who are you?’ I stifled my urge to yell…….’ ’How do you know this! ’
‘You must get a life insurance to secure the interest of your family……… a real fat one’ she continued ‘as you will be dead in a fortnight’. Her eyes were now a reddish opaque.
I drove away but she kept popping up in my dreams, till I got my life insured.
I have been dead for three months now. My family is quite well-off now, better than when I was alive. I still do not know who she is?