Her Shoes Gave Her Away

No matter how well you do something, very few people acknowledge your accomplishments. Many zoom in right onto your flaw. Oormila hated that. She was one of the few people in her family whom enjoyed cocktails and beers every now and then but as her name suggests, her Indian background was her biggest hurdle. To her family of five siblings, Oormila was arbitrarily denoted as the black sheep.

"My Lord, Souwmya, your cupboards are filled with rum and vodka. You know, most Indian women store dried herbs and curry powder in their pantry," Oormila's eldest sister, Sharanya, never failed to make her feel like a pathetic excuse for a housewife. Oormila also hated the fact that her sister calls her Souwmya; the name of her arch-rival when she was 10. Souwmya and Oormila had a long standing competition of whom would fare better in life. At 32 years of age, Souwmya was one of the country's leading journalist married to an orthopedic specialist whose patients included famous TV personalities and movie stars. The false name was just a way her sister used to taunt her. It eventually became a permanent norm.

"Shar, when are you going to realise that your jokes are getting old? I organise dinner parties for Jay's clients you know and they all appreciate a good cocktail," Oormila was ever-ready to shove her sister out of the door for her sister was like her kyrptonite.

"Uh huh, Souwmya, I am not five and I know more than well that you have dinner parties, at most, four or five times a year," with a conviction that only she knew Oormila well enough, Sharanya stood her ground, her eyes transfixed on her baby sister waiting for a confession, or the very least a sign of defeat.

Oormila shook her head and made her way to the living hall. She never approved of her sister's judgments and never once bowed down to her deliberate mocking. Even when they were children, Sharanya took pride in unraveling Oormila's misdoings. It seemed like Sharanya's only goal was to make Oormila's life a living hell. Sharanya's excellent academic achievements only made it harder for Oormila to digest the fact that her sister's 100% percent score as the perfect daughter would always make her feel like the charity case; in most instances begging for attention. Even Sharanya's marriage managed to outshine Oormila's; a wealthy husband and three beautiful children.

Despite all her shortcomings, Oormila was madly in love with Jay and her only child Vassan. Just like herself, Jay was a rebel whose small design firm had more or less 5 major projects a year with a profit that paid their bills and afforded them comfortable lifestyle. Jay and Oormila met in college and worked in the same publishing company; they initially hated each other. Things took a turn for the better when the duo was appointed leaders of one of the firm's most important project. In typical Bollywood fashion, their constant disagreements and bickering revealed the best of both parties. Oormila fell for Jay's sincerity and dedication, Jay fell for her kind and unpretentious nature.

It was one of those busy Monday morning for Oormila; sending her beloved off to work, rushing Vassan off to school and running errands in and out of her house. Bills to be paid, chores to be finished and three lavatories in her home to be cleaned.

That day however, was not going to be just another busy Monday.

Sending off a banner on behalf of Jay, she almost lost her way in an unfamiliar neighbourhood. The client in question was a fashion designer whom worked in that uncanny location, which, in his defense, allowed him to solely concentrate on creating his garments. After confirming yet another guest for the small dinner parties she occasionally throws, Oormila walked out of the place with a beaming smile. She had just bagged herself a handsome discount for a turquoise cocktail dress adorning a mannequin in the designer's loft.

Her 5 year old Toyota Corolla had seen better days, or so she thought when a familiar Nissan Murano drove into the vicinity.

"Sharanya?" she actually heard herself saying it aloud.

Just as curiosity got the better of most people, she backed her car into an alley and looked on from a distance as her sister eased herself out comfortably from her perfectly polished Nissan.

"She doesn't belong in this place," again the words were not merely constructed in her mind.

As her sister made her way to the loft adjacent to the one Oormila came out of barely 10 minutes ago, she couldn't help but notice her in a pair of black stacked heels.

"Oh my God, those things have to be at least 5 inches tall. Shar, I never saw this pair in your shoe collection before!!!" she managed to sustain those words in her head. Oormila knew her sister was too much of a model housewife to be caught wearing something so sexy it bordered on slutty.

Oormila checked her Guess watch, "Damn! I'm late for the gynecologist!"

She did not follow her routine that day; she followed her instincts. She followed her sister.

Her snooping brought about a confrontation and a revelation.

From that day on, even though she kept her sister's dirty dark secret, she took comfort in knowing that from now on, Sharanya would never shoot her sneering comments. Oormila finally embraced her life and her imperfections for it did not involve parting her heart between the man she loved and her husband.

Sharanya's middle child was rightfully illegitimate.