The Envy of the Bengal Clockvine
A tale of friendship, envy, and unexpected revelations unfolds amidst the charm of Reena’s Bengal clockvine -covered cottage. As two friends reunite, secrets hidden beneath the perfect façade come to light, challenging their bond and altering perceptions.
I envied Reena for her Bengal clockvine or the Thunbergia flowers as they are commonly known. They were lively in their faded purple and lavender hues, their leaves green, verdant, and plump. Their creepers gracefully meandered down the sea-blue wall of her ancestral cottage. It looked as if Jack from ‘Jack and The Beanstalk’ would climb down any moment with the Giant following suit. Other similarly vibrant flowers in colourful pots decorated her carefully trimmed grass lawn. Reena’s gardening skills were unrivalled. Two stout and seemingly well-fed turtles peeped curiously from the surface of a glimmering pond in a corner. “Hello you!” I greeted them as I entered her garden and walked towards her welcoming door which floated a familiar and mouthwatering aroma.
In addition to being a successful home gardener, my friend Reena was also an accomplished cook. The mere description of her biryanis made one’s tastebuds tickle. They awakened the senses with their divine blend of perfectly cooked and succulent meat, the freshness of basmati rice, a perfect marriage of handpicked spices—cardamom, star anise, cloves, bay leaves, and cinnamon; the rich yet subtle sweetness of the saffron; and the richness of cashews and raisins reminiscent of royal appetites.
I was visiting her after what felt like an eternity. The trap called daily life had me bound so tightly that I had forgotten there was a world outside with people who still wanted to be associated with me despite my inadvertent inability to stay in touch. Also, Reena’s biryani bribe had worked, and the prospect of seeing a particular someone – Viresh, Reena’s partner of eight months. Reena had been generous with sharing Viresh’s pictures via email. I couldn’t help but notice how attractive he was. Viresh was a welcome change for Reena after enduring an abusive marriage and the hollow that lingered for six years post-divorce.
But Reena was still better off than me. I was well into my mid-40s and single. My mother and father had long given up on my marital prospects. And I was grateful for this. I even gave them an occasional hug for their mercy. Once again, Reena was more fortunate than I could ever be. Yes, I was happy for my best friend but envious too. Secretly, I wished I had gotten Viresh. He was everything a woman desired. Being attractive aside, he supported Reena’s choices even if it meant not having children or letting her quit her 9 to 5 job to become a full-time home chef and now a celebrated food caterer to her community.
As I walked into Reena’s home, I saw Viresh standing in the cosy living room with his hand stretched to welcome me. My heart skipped a beat when I saw him in the flesh. Viresh was tall, lean, and reasonably handsome, his eyes resembled those of a lively puppy. As he shook hands with me, I broke into goosebumps hoping my fantasies about him wouldn’t be revealed, praying he wouldn’t notice my girlish quirks! I didn’t want him to think less of me.
My envy of Reena grew once we exchanged pleasantries and lazy afternoon chats. Viresh was also a good conversationalist with a sense of humour. Ah! The perfect man! Once again, Reena got what she wanted as usual.
“Neelu, french fries!”, said Reena excitedly as she passed a plate of my favourite weakness into Viresh’s outstretched hands. No sooner than he placed it on the coffee table between us, I grabbed the crunchy stuff and savoured every bit as the oil oozed and salt dissolved on my eager tongue. The cool fizz of the beer calmed it. Reena breezed out of the kitchen wearing her apron proudly, a spatula in one hand and a bowl of tantalizing fried prawns in the other. Her sweaty face with flecks of cooking oil beamed proudly with a sense of achievement.
“Oh! The comfort of good ol’ spuds!” I said mimicking an American accent. The lunch at Reena’s was nothing short of a ‘daawat’ (banquet). The appetizers were followed by my most awaited bribe — Reena’s signature soulful chicken biryani!
Once we had our fill of the hearty meal and loud conversations, we decided to retire for a siesta. Almost immediately Viresh stepped out into the garden to nap on the bench near the turtle pond while Reena and I lazed on the large bed in her room and fell asleep listening to our favourite All India Radio.
As the afternoon faded into twilight, we were awakened by our desire to have the unmissable cup of fresh masala ‘chai’. We sat around the coffee table once again and clinked our teacups together. “Cheers!” We chimed. “To one of the best times of my life!” I quipped. Viresh took one last sip of his tea and went to the kitchen. Full marks again! I had only seen men shouting orders or handing their dirty dishes and cups to their wives and maids.
As Reena and I advanced our endless conversation, Viresh returned with a duffel bag.“So, I’ll see you soon then, Neelam it was so nice meeting you!” said Viresh. Surprised, I asked, “Where are you off to? I hope I didn’t intrude on you guys today! Reena you should have told me!” “No, no, nothing of that sort Neelu.” said Reena calming me down.
“See you sweetheart” said Viresh pecking Reena on the cheek. He quickly walked towards the door and turned to give a final wave with a big bright smile across his slender face. My goodbye smile was half-hearted. We were having such a great time and I didn’t want Viresh to be out of my sight, not so soon.
“Where is he off to? Business trip?” I asked Reena trying hard to shield my irritation at this sudden exit. “Home, he is going home.” Reena replied looking at Viresh as he drove off. “Oh! To Delhi? To see his parents? Is everything ok?” I asked curiously.
Reena turned and looked me in the eye. After a pause, she said something that shocked me like a Taser gun. “He is going back to his wife.” “Wife?… Reena, I…” “Yes, wife, and two children as well,” she continued calmly. “There is a mutual understanding between us. He spends every alternate weekend with me, two full days. We live like husband and wife. He helps me with the cooking, and cleaning, runs errands, and helps me with my business too.”
I could feel my jaw open and close unable to decide if I should withhold my tongue, ask questions, console her, or tell her what she was doing was wrong. I felt anger against Reena for having an affair with a married man and for lying to me. But I also felt pity for her, an emotion I never experienced before, not for Reena in the least.
We sat in silence for the next few minutes which felt like eternity. It was the first time in all these years that ‘Reena Neelam’ had nothing to say to one another. I glanced at the time and realised it was 8 o’clock. I had a train to catch in the next two hours. The station was around 50 minutes from Reena’s house.
“I have to go, my train…”, I trailed off. “Of course, I’ll call an auto for you”, said Reena and raced out to her gate. I picked up my purse and quietly followed her. After haggling for the right price, I kept my purse on the half-torn seat in the rickshaw, turned around and hugged Reena. “Bye Reena, I’ll see you.. Bye.” “Yeah, bye Neelu. Call me when you reach.” I simply nodded at her request and the two best friends parted awkwardly.
As my ride struggled to start up, I looked at Reena as she retreated through her beloved garden to her cottage. It was where we had spent some of our best days as young, carefree girls. Our laughter echoed in my mind but soon faded away. Once I dictated the directions to the driver and confirmed if he knew the route, I looked at Reena. She stood at her window staring into the moonlit darkness. I glanced at her carefully nurtured, and much-envied, Bengal clockvine, on the perimeter of the window. She looked like a beautiful princess locked in a dark tower and the Bengal clockvine, now shrivelled up, resembled the cold iron bars of a cage preventing her from escaping her fate. As I rode off, all that was left was the darkness that stole the charm of the once-envied Bengal clockvine.
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