The Perfect Girl

Image by Free-Photos from Pixabay 

Ma’s head fell back against the pillow and I heard soft snores. She had finally fallen asleep after tossing and turning in pain for several hours. I stared at the clock mounted on the wall. It was nearly four in the evening. I hadn’t eaten anything in hours and my stomach had begun growling angrily in protest. If I rushed down and grabbed a quick bite at the cafeteria downstairs, I’d be back in time for the doctor’s evening rounds. Picking up my bag, I made sure ma was fast asleep and made my way to the tiny café crammed between the reception and the pharmacy on the ground floor. 

As my rotten luck would have it, the café was jam-packed. People were spilling out of every corner, all the tables were occupied. I walked up to the counter looking back over my shoulder to examine my surroundings once more. Perhaps there was an empty table I’d missed? But no, there wasn’t an ounce of space free anywhere to have a cup of tea and croissant in peace.

“Should I pack it for you?” the boy stared at me expectantly over the counter.

“Why don’t you sit here?” someone called out from amidst a sea of faces. I looked to find a woman sitting by herself at the one of the tables. I hadn’t noticed her before. She pointed towards the empty chair in front of her. “There’s no one with me, you can sit here and eat if you like.”

Now I don’t really like sharing tables or eating meals with strangers. But I was ravenous and there wasn’t much time to spare. Besides I didn’t want to appear rude. So I agreed albeit slightly reluctantly. She seemed pleasant enough. Small with a thin, drawn face and laugh lines around her eyes. Medium length brown hair framing her face. I could see a faint line of vermillion at the parting of her hair and a black-and-gold mangalsutra around her neck.

“You have a patient here?” she enquired as soon as I sat down opposite her. Oh no, what have I done, I thought to myself. I wasn't in the mood to make polite conversation with her. There was too much clutter inside my head. I was worried about my mother, anxious to meet the doctor. Exchanging pleasantries with strangers that one randomly meets at hospital cafes was not something I was prepared for.
I didn’t say anything out loud. I smiled weakly and told her that my mother was admitted and she’d had surgery. She nodded sympathetically. I felt as though I was obliged to return the favour by asking her the same question. So I did. “Are you here to see someone?”

She stared at me for several minutes as though formulating what to say in her mind. Finally, after a longish pause, she said, “I’m here with my husband. He had a biopsy done.”

Over the next fifteen minutes or so, she proceeded to tell me about her husband and how she had noticed a lump in his throat and the family doctor had advised a biopsy to rule out cancer. She told me that they lived in a joint family with her in-laws and no one had a clue that the two of them had come away to get the biopsy done. She didn’t think it right to alarm her husband’s elderly parents. “If cancer is detected, we will have to tell them. Why worry them unnecessarily?”

I nodded. She was right in a way.

The croissant had arrived. But I wasn’t able to eat it. She hadn’t finished talking. Her husband’s biopsy wasn’t the end of her tale. She told me about her husband’s soda bottling plant and her two sons who were gearing up to take over the family business from their father. The eldest chap was ready to get married and she was looking for a bride for him.

“You see,” she said, taking a sip from her coffee cup. “My son is perfect. He doesn’t drink or smoke. He has no bad habits. I can’t find a single girl who matches up to him. Besides we live far away from here, in a village on the outskirts of Gurgaon. I can’t find anyone who is prepared to settle there. All the girls we meet, the young and modern girls of today, want to live in the big city, go to malls, do shopping. I can’t find anyone willing to leave the pleasures of the city and live with us in a village.”

I nodded my head as though I understood. I mean, what was I supposed to do? I couldn’t believe that she was telling me all this. After all, I was a complete stranger, sharing a table with her in a hospital cafeteria. Why on earth would anyone blurt out so much about their personal life to a stranger?
I realized that I had to make a quick getaway without hurting her feelings. This was getting way too awkward. I wrapped the croissant in a napkin, drained the contents of my cup and got up quickly. “I have to go now,” I said glancing casually at the clock on the wall. “The doctor will be making his evening rounds and I don’t want to miss him.” It wasn’t a lie.

She looked disappointed and I felt like a heel. “Oh yes, of course. No problem. Take care. I hope your mother gets well soon.”

“I hope your husband is okay too. Don’t worry too much. I’m sure you will find the perfect girl for your son.”

I think about her a lot. I wonder whether she did find that girl after all.