She looked from the phone ringing in her hand to the aged version of Vinod standing in front of her. He continued to smirk at her bewildered expression silently, not bothering to tell her what to do.
She had wanted to know more about Mrs. Bakshi, but now, found herself suddenly hesitant about answering the ringing phone.
Had Mrs. Bakshi had replaced Manorama in Vinod’s life? Was Mrs. Bakshi even aware that Vinod had had a wife called Manorama, who was no longer a part of his present?
But he was hers, hers alone. She thought, rage building up within her. What kind of sin had she committed that had led to her losing everything, losing him? In her cloud of bitter rage, Manorama answered the call. She felt Vinod’s eyes on her, watching her intently.
‘Who are you, Mrs. Bakshi?’ she yelled into the phone.
There was a sharp intake of breath at the other end, before a soft singsong voice asked, ‘Manorama? Is that you?’
Manorama was dumbstruck. Mrs. Bakshi knew her? Was she calling from Manorama’s present or Vinod’s? Wait, had the two merged without her knowledge?
Gripping the phone so tightly that her knuckles turned white, Manorama went on. ‘Do you know me?’ she asked.
‘Know you? Why, our world revolves around you, little Mrs Perfect!’ The voice had suddenly turn acid now and Manorama could feel a bitter taste in her own mouth simply listening to it. She cringed at what the woman called her. Slowly gathering courage, she asked, ‘What have I done to you? In fact, it’s you who’s destroyed my whole life and snatched my husband away …’
‘What have I done?’ The voice imitated her words with a sneer. ‘You never do anything wrong, do you? Yet this time, the catastrophe that’s befallen mankind is all upon you. Do you hear me? Yes, it’s upon you!’ And the voice turned into one of an avenging angel, taking Manorama’s breath away.
‘No!’ Manorama shouted, shaken by the accusation. ‘What are you saying …?’ But all she got in reply was the beep of a call gone dead.
She looked up and saw Vinod’s face, and realized that he knew.
‘The seven cardinal sins …’ he reminded her, his tone soft. Yet, it felt to Manorama as if he were bringing atonement upon her.
‘Was it Envy or Gluttony, Manorama?’ he asked, taking a slow step towards her. Manorama shrank back, her eyes wide and her head feeling like it would split open any second now. ‘But those were never your weaknesses …’
‘Stay away,’ she warned, instinctively taking a step back.
Vinod – her handsome and loving Vinod – now aged gracefully, his face kind yet somehow frightening, loving yet vengeful, continued as if he hadn’t heard her. ‘Or did you succumb to Pride or Sloth? Remember them, Manorama? Perhaps they never held much value in your important life?’
‘Please don’t come near me …’ she said, this time her voice breaking meekly, seeking escape from his haunting words. Yet at the same time, Manorama was trying to comprehend what was happening to her … what was Vinod telling her? Why were they all blaming her for this strangely frightening predicament that they were in?
‘Was it your Wrath or Lust?” he continued mercilessly, stepping dangerously close to her now. Manorama has nowhere to run to, nowhere to hide. ‘Or did you always hold me responsible for these sins?’
She felt completely trapped, her back against the cupboard. The cold metal of it made her shiver.
‘Or was it Greed …?’ Vinod whispered in her ears.
Her knees buckled under her weight as Manorama sank to the ground.
Vinod knelt beside her and simply held her shoulders, pulling her up.
‘Our sins always get us in the end, Manorama …’ he whispered pityingly, his forehead against hers. ‘What matters is how we fix what we have done …’
Even as he held her in his oddly unfamiliar but comforting arms, he reached out behind her and unlocked his cupboard with the master key that he’d drawn out from his pocket.
She turned around to watch him opening the cupboard and sucked in her breath sharply as the doors fell open. In the silence, her drumming and deceitful heart could be heard loud and clear.
Staring inside, she knew what she had to atone for.
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