The Last Straw by Saeed Ibrahim
T
he rich musical tones of the antique Coutinho,” piped in Mrs. Singh smugly with the doorbell sounded once more in Prema air of someone who is privy to information that Ramaswamy's drawing room as one more member is not known to others. arrived at her Book Club morning. Prema's thirty year old book club was one of Bangalore's oldest and most sought after book clubs with a select membership of well informed and well-to-do society women. The group met once a month in Prema's spacious and stylish home in Richmond Town, one of the few surviving remnants of the old colonial-style bungalows. With the city's fast changing architectural landscape her residence stood out prominently with its imposing front porch, stunning Tuscan pillars and unmistakable ‘monkey tops’ - pointed canopies covering a Mangalore tiled sloping roof. The assembled ladies turned to her with renewed interest as she continued, “Mrs. Coutinho was away for two weeks on a holiday in Europe and she left her plants in Mrs. Chatterjee’s care to be watered and taken care of in her absence. It seems that on her return, Mrs. Coutinho found that all her plants had died and she is totally upset with Mrs. Chatterjee for her carelessness. Quite obviously the two are not talking to each other.” There was an audible sigh The women present were getting a bit of resignation from the gathering and the book impatient as they waited for the two absent club meeting got underway. Mrs. Alice Coutinho and her friend Mrs. Sonali members to show up before the start of the Chatterjee had been neighbours for a long as proceedings. “I don’t think either of them is coming today,” they could remember and whilst their friendship offered Mrs. Menon. “It’s no use waiting for had blossomed and flourished over the years, it had not been without its ups and downs, and them anymore.” “Don’t tell me they have had another quarrel its blow hot and cold moments. Many in their and don’t want to face each other or be seen circle of friends marvelled at the closeness they together,” queried Mrs. Deshmukh with a shared but wondered at the love-hate nature of their relationship as they fell out with each other knowing smile. “Don’t you know? That is precisely what at regular intervals, but then predictably made has happened. I have all the details from Mrs. up again soon after. 138
