She didn’t quite see herself CID. But she knew she was good. For example, she was the first to spot and tell everyone about the Atiya-Anish love story that was taking place right in the middle of the neighbourhood. No one else had spotted the budding romance as yet, but she, the one who had her finger on the button, just knew, just saw and figured out what the scene was.
She had her faithful band of followers. They primarily hated her, partly out of fear that she would find out something about them. But she was careful not to alienate her followers, since that then, would be disaster and would put an end to her undercover operations. Yes, she was the harmless, dull looking maami next door but who was to know that SHE, yes she, of all people, if she ever wanted to blackmail anyone in the neighbourhood, had the information, first hand, to do so?
So she put down all her observations, inferences and conclusions neatly in a little notebook, that she billed her diary. It was a innocuous looking ruled notebook, 200 pages, that had a chubby child on the cover, a butterfly or even sometimes, a tree or a garden. She had 15 such notebooks stashed away in the tin trunk under her bed. What a pleasure it was to go back to some of them.
For example, one day Ruth aunty from next door was remembering Leela from the third floor of the opposite house(at one of their impromptu neighbourly conclaves when Amina, Ritu and Meenakashi were present) and suddenly, she remembered the rotund, cheerful woman with her string of boyfriends. True, Leela at thirty was not married but her string of BFs would also ensure that she never would. She sniffed at the memory and suddenly felt the urge to relive those days when Leela was her pet subject. So to the tin trunk and notebook number 9 it was… and did she enjoy going back!! The Leela who scorned her neighbours, the same Leela who thumbed her nose at them, even as boys, boys and more boys trooped in and out of the door.
Leela, for example, would take a bath at precisely 7.15 every morning, breakfast at 7.45 and leave home at 8am. She would be back at 4.30, after which a stream of young men would adorn her doorstep one after another. She read through her observations, enjoying every relived moment, relishing it slowly like a toffee being sucked till it vanished on the tongue. Some things are best enjoyed at leisure.
A week after Leela was remembered with fondness, a young man came knocking at her door. She peered at him, for it seemed a familiar face, yet one that she was sure, she could not have known personally.
“Aunty,” said the boy. Aunty? Did she look like his aunt?? She peered closer. He could not have been older than 21. She relaxed a bit and waited. “Aunty, sorry to bother you but would you know where I can get a contact number or address for Ms. Leela who used to live opposite?”
“Er… I really don’t know…” she said, her antennae up at once, “Who shall I say asked for her in case I am able to find out?”
“Oh,” said the boy smiling, “Please tell her it is Aditya from Balakrishna College who took chemistry tuition from her – and graduated from being blockhead to brightest.”
It took a few moments for the undercover woman operator to steady her smile and nod her head.
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