Unusual Encounter

The rain had stopped as suddenly as it had started.

I leaned over the window sill of the fifth floor of my Housing Board apartment and breathed in deeply.

Mmm…

The wet mud smell lingered in the air.

The way it had begun with the loud clapping of thunder, the building seemed to shake its very foundations, like it was the beginning of an earthquake.

I remembered how, the first time this happened, I had hurriedly called Suren at work, interrupting him in the middle of a meeting with his client.

He had burst out laughing, and said, “Silly, this is how tropical showers are. That building has stood strong for 20 years. Don’t worry. You will be right there in that when I return home.”

I had sheepishly put down the phone.

How could I have been so stupid? What would my ten-day old husband, who in many ways, was still a stranger to me, think of me?

I was newly married. Mrs. Sandhya Suren.

To be precise, I have been Mrs. Suren,10 days, 10 hours and 15 minutes. Our marriage had been arranged and executed smoothly by my parents - a three-day long elaborate ceremony of Hindu rituals. I had met him six months back, spoken a couple of times. Once, at his home and the other time, at mine.  Now a massive gold chain with its numerous pendants, the mangal sutra, hung heavy down my neck proclaiming me a married woman. Mrs. Sandhya Suren!

A week later, we had moved to Singapore. Now, as was the Indian custom, we were getting to know each other. For a small town girl who had never ventured far from home, a new husband, a quick marriage followed by a move to a strange new country was a heady mix of apprehension and excitement.   This was one reason I had readily agreed to marry a boy who worked in Singapore.

I was starting to get antsy cooped up in that matchbox of an apartment all day long. It was, to be fair, a two-bedroom apartment. The walls dissected the small space into different areas.  There were a tiny bare-bones kitchen, a cute little hall, and even tinier bedrooms. One of the bedrooms was furnished and kept locked by the owner. Singapore Housing board does not allow renting out apartments so this was a loophole that locals exploited. 

The rooms were barren and sparsely furnished. The portable TV was poised precariously on a small stool. The windows were free of curtains, and the bright equatorial sun sent shooting rays to keep us company through the day. I had done all I could possibly do. I started to feel restless and a little bored.

As I stood watching, I noticed the path that lead to the park had dried up quickly. The park was starting to come alive with people.

     I gathered courage and with a determined straightening of my shoulders decided, “Time you stepped out, Mrs. Suren!”

I changed into the red and white suit from my wedding trousseau, dabbed some face powder, and dashed a thick line with my indispensable eyeliner. I checked myself quickly in the mirror. The intricate patterns of henna were still visible on my arms. The effects of the numerous treatments that I had been subjected to made my skin gleam like never before. The hours I had put in at the gym and unforgiving diet showed in the reflection of the slim looking girl who stared back at me from the mirror.

“Not bad”, I nodded at my counterpart in the mirror and stepped out of the door.

As I walked up the pathway leading to the park, I noticed the little children rushing out to play. There were maids of all nationalities in Singapore. They laughed and pushed plump looking infants in strollers, trading stories with their friends. This was the one respite from a hard day spent alone and working all day long. To the distance, I could see train stopping at the station. More people poured out of the stations heading home, relieved to end a fast paced day. To the right, the senior citizens had gathered at their favorite spot, around the circular stone benches to catch up on the days’ gossip.  

I walked past the food court listening to bits of their animated conversations. A few building past, I headed towards the overhead bridge to the next estate.  Across the bridge was the supermarket where we had bought our groceries last week.

Today I was going to shop there and then treat Suren to a splendid dinner. I could imagine the surprised delight on his face.

Smiling, I stepped into the supermarket. For a moment, I stood fascinated by the sheer array of things available at this one store. I tried hard to look as if I was familiar with the store and glanced casually around. 

I walked around checking the prices and picking groceries. Then, as I was just choosing the vegetable, I had a feeling of being observed. I looked up to see a tall man staring hard at me. He looked away quickly when he saw I noticed. In a few minutes, I saw he was at it again. Ignoring him, I continued to shop again.

Finally, I found all I wanted and after fiddling with the coins to figure out the currency, I was all set. I walked out of the store, pleased with myself at my first shopping trip.

As I passed by the row of stores, I stopped every now and then to admire and wonder at the various items on display.

Reluctantly, I finally decided to get back home. It would soon get dark and I had to get back.

 And that was when I saw him again. The Supermarket Starer. Now, The Supermarket Stalker.

     This time, he was not alone.

He stood with a group of rough looking men, tall, bulky and well-built. They looked to be Indian but Singaporeans. Flashy, dressed in gaudy clothes, they sported long hair. One had a beard with a ponytail for added effect.  Chunky gold bracelets on their hairy arms, thick gold chains, and big gold earrings too! In my eyes, they looked up to no good! And they seemed to be heading straight for me!

A little nervously, I decided to leave without wasting more time.  Those guys looked scary. But, I reminded myself, Singapore has one of the lowest crime rates in the world. Nothing to get worked up over. All I had to do was walk casually by them like I belong. Make myself as inconspicuous and blend in and then I should be just fine.

My nerves settled as I had negotiated the turn around the corner and headed towards the row of tall buildings behind which lay the bridge that would take me back to my familiar refuge �" my little apartment.

I hurried along as I crossed the public gym where some teenagers were working out. Further down, there wasn’t anyone as it was getting past sunset. I had almost reached the steps leading to the walkway, when,

Thud, Thud!

I heard heavy footsteps behind me.

I quickly turned around. My heart lurched wildly when I saw that gang of thug-like burly men walking purposefully towards the bridge. Were they actually following me? My heart started doing a drum roll that got louder and faster with every beat.

My feet, on the other hand, felt like bricks that would not move fast enough. As I was trying to control my thoughts, I heard a voice call out, “Stop! Stop for a minute!”

     I almost fell at that! Did he actually believe I was that stupid to stop?  I summoned whatever energy I had left in me and started running. My thoughts raced along with my poor aching feet.

Oh, why had I worn this dress? It is not made for rapid escapes!

I began cursing my newlywed husband under my breath, repeating the limited words I had in my repertoire, over and over again. For added measure, I resorted to my mother tongue too.

What sort of man doesn’t warn his newlywed wife of the dangers of this strange place? Oh, why had I left home today of all days?

Hoisting my pants up, like a villager, I broke into a run.

Oh, I would be in tomorrow’s newspapers - the first statistic casualty in Singapore.

Then, as I ran, another thought,

My poor family, they would regret sending me so far away.

I turned around and horror of horrors, those guys seemed determined to get to me!

 I ran even faster If my feet could cry, they would readily have shed a bucket of tears!

Well, I had been a marathon runner for nothing. Sandhya, you are not going to let them get to you! No, not at all!

With renewed energy, I ran till I finally reached the end of the bridge. I looked back to see they had reached half way across.

When they saw me looking, the guy at the supermarket, started waving frantically to me.

What sort of idiot thinks I would stop and let him do whatever he plans to? No, you are not going to get me to stop! I said to myself and turned the corner.

Another two turns and then I would be home! Oh, my sweet little home! The thought added a further burst of energy.

I turned fearfully around to see where they were. And to my relief, they were nowhere to be seen. I had don’t it! I had shaken the thugs off! I sighed and paused a few seconds to breathe deeply.

I took the last few steps and negotiated the last turn when I froze! Utterly froze!

The guy stood! In my way! Right there, blocking my way to safety. And, with him were his cronies.

I took a step back. Cowering I looked around. No one in sight.

Supermarket Stalker and his dreadful gang walked toward me. I could definitely see the leer on their faces. One shook his head of wild curls and then flexed his hands. It was the Supermarket Stalker.

As I watched, looking to escape, he adjusted his shirt and ambled unhurriedly towards me. The others waited behind… for their turn? The very thought nauseated and horrified me.

In that split second, the scenes from all the gangster movies I had watched played out before me. Oh, no, this is how they did it. Taking turns, one by one, with the girl screaming out in pain. So loud. Help Help!

Would anyone help, if I did, I wondered.

     Another thought, equally horrifying rose. How would my family take it? What about my husband?

As I stood still, helpless and on the verge of giving up,

Supermarket Stalker came even closer.

I stepped back. Once more and I was leaning on the wall of the building behind me.

“Hello”, he said. “I am Arun”.

Who the hell cares? I thought to myself.  Is this how they do it here, so civilized and proper? You introduce yourself and then…

“Are you from India?” he asked me gently. Yes, he was gentle. Before the kill.

Speechless, I nodded.

     “Oh, so you new here, lah” He drawled in Singlish.

I nodded again.

Would someone please come and rescue me? I am dying already just from the thought of what’s coming.

     The wait seemed more torturous than anything that would come after.

     “I like you. You very beautiful, lah”.

What? Now you pay compliments? Is this all real or am I in the midst of a very bad, crazy dream?

I just stood staring, unblinking. Afraid to close my eyes in case he caught me unawares.

“What’s your name? Do you have a boyfriend?

I glared at him in disbelief. This was getting crazier by the minute.

How did that even matter? Would he let me off if I had a boyfriend? What was going on here?

Supermarket Stalker, Arun cleared his throat. Paused and then said, “I am looking for a girlfriend.”

I lost it then. My body went loose as the tension seeped out of me like a balloon losing air.

So all this, just to find himself a girlfriend? I almost laughed out loud in relief.

He was looking much less ferocious than he had moments earlier. Now he looked more Arun and less the Supermarket Stalker. The leer was only a very poorly executed shy smile.

Then my inherently mischievous nature took hold of me as I replied,

“No, I don’t”

Arun, beamed at me. “I do not have a boyfriend…” I replied.

I paused, my turn to extract my vengeance, “But, I do have… a husband.”

The tables had turned. It was his turn to look shocked.

He shook his head as he backed away.

“Sorry, madam, I am sorry to bother you.  Take care and go home safe.”

Saying this, he walked back to join his friends.

As I walked home, I looked back once or twice at the departing figures. “Nice guys, though a little odd manner of soliciting a girlfriend.”  

Even so, it took me quite a while before I ventured out for a walk again!