Hints of Hues

The dark, winding stairs, fed with dust from years of neglect, led to various floors of flats hailed by different inmates. Yet, the fourth floor was the one which called for a hush, a stop, a point, a word by anyone taking it anew, or forever. The three flats were turned to a palatial one by Chitrita Mistry and Bonhi Basu. They owned the label, Hues, and were often seen doing the rooms of fellow fashionistas.

Since their training at the design institute, they were like a bed and bug, and often laughed of a future together in shares, stocks and space. Neither believed it would come true, and when it did, it felt as if nothing else was ever meant to be. Today, Hues was one of the most sought after design ensembles of the city. In fact, even when with Bonhi much married to Naman, Naman Kapoor of Kapoor Accounts & Associates, the wealthiest CA firm of the region, she spent mighty time at this flat of their humble beginnings, especially after their honeymoon in Greece. Greece had opened up in her the possibilities of the sea, especially in their detour stay at Volos. Once in Athens, she called Chitrita and excitedly spoke of her expansion plans, from architecture and interiors to publishing and performance. Chitrita, used to this electric energy around her, listened intently.

That was then. There was a party at the fourth floor now. The staircase handrail was decked up like a bride, in golden little lights. The flat opened to many a friends the smell of designer smiles, white water lilies, dimmed lights and very potent wines doing diligent rounds. Chitrita was worried about Bonhi. Like her name, she was completely capable of burning down anything, anyone. She was certain of Naman's ruthless cheating upon her, she was only not very interested in the who of it. Chitrita too could not explain the tangling of fingers, the adventure of their secret, the infinite moments of their scarce time. Naman had come up to her only as a friend is sought, and ended up like birds in paradise.

The cheers were getting louder, the incomprehensible sentences shriller, the wine stock thinner. Naman had come in and was lurking too close to her. Bonhi noticed. Chitrita noticed her notice. She pushed Naman off and walked over to Bonhi, grasped her hand, could do nothing about her shock and dragged her like dead weight to the bathroom. The bathroom was done by Bonhi exactly as Chitrita wanted, spacious, as if made for this night, with a small settee. She sat Bonhi down there, and sat on the floor, near her. There were no words to exchange, they both knew. Slowly, she just put her head on her knees and allowed the wine effect to take over.

In that one moment they realised what they had not in years. Neither needed Naman. Hues was their child and it needed them. Bonhi embraced Chitrita and spoke of the letters that she posted to addresses that never existed, only because Chitrita was never around to listen. Chitrita sat up and faced the full length mirror, smiling, Bonhi had always known. 

Too much was left undone.