Thursday, 9 May 2013

Onwards to heaven

Yesterday we woke up to find some men from the next building standing in a corner and talking quietly. 

After about an hour, the maid asked me what was happening. I was clueless.

A little later a police van came through the society gates, and about 6-7 policemen disappeared into the building. One even brought his little son and made him sit in the police van. School holidays and nowhere to go? Husband told me it was not a good way for a young child to pass his time, as there would be many bad things and situations he'd be witnessing.

Afterwards, husband told me the watchman was called to an apartment in the next building to break open a door and they found the head of the household hanging from a fan.

Apparently he was suffering business losses and was under a great deal of stress.

The kids from all three buildings were not allowed to play outside until evening. I don't think anyone really explained what happened.

I can't place the gentleman. I see his son going to work every morning. I don't know what his wife and other kids look like. I've lived here 14 years and i don't know anyone or anything. I don't know what makes anyone tick.

Just the way I knew and didn't know V.

Several years ago I had a friend and colleague, V.  Always smiling, full of activity. Working on a Phd. We'd known each other a few years. Knew she was married. We teased her often about being a pucca mumbaikar, but still old-fashioned enough to wear a sari to work everyday.

One day she turned up with a black eye. She was worried we'd say it was her husband. It was actually a door.

And one day, in March, she was no more. We came in to work and were told she had committed suicide.

On her neice's birthday.

Why? No one knows.

Everyone at office was distressed. Could it also have been because we realised we knew very little about V?

We went for the funeral. Saw her tense husband do the rituals.

We met her mother and sisters... shattered by the turn of events.

A colleague wrote an article on suicide. We never spoke about her. We rarely do. I remember her. I've got pictures of her, but that's about it.

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