I don't remember

The more I looked at her, the more I became certain that it was she .
I had met her, in the last station. Partied with her, shopped and gossipped with her, but her name didn’t come to me . It was a common name . Seema , sheela or some such name .
She didn’t display any such signs. She went about loading her shopping cart , nonchalantly, not so much as even glancing in my direction.
Whereas I was all aflutter, agog, on pins and needles.
Lord!! If only I could recall her name .
I even knew her qualification.That she was an M.Phil, and that she had two sons and was studying for her Phd.The appearance had changed somewhat. She had a stylish scarf tied on her head , unlike before , and the pallid grey look on the skin wasn't there earlier. But she wore her goggles indoors, as before , and sniffed each bottle of deo ,before deciding not to buy any, as before . I smiled . It had to be her.
Finally, at the billing counter, as I studied her back, I garnered enough courage to break the ice ,”Excuse me ” I began. “We have met before , haven’t we ?”
She looked at me with a strange expression, one which we reserve for lunatics or pariah dogs , and said blankly, “I don’t remember.”

With the tenacity of a bull-dog , I refused to let go of my quarry( my husband's words , not mine ), and began recounting incidents , one by one . Finally, the wall of incomprehension was breached , and recognition slowly seeped in, in spurts . I was amazed .I expected a flood , but this was  drought. Perhaps she didn't want to be bothered , I consoled myself . The sales woman at the counter  was drumming the countertop with her pencil-stub in impatience , and the line of impatient buyers behind us, had multiplied fourfold , since our exchange began.
I had to let go( before I was lynched!!).

As she piled her groceries high on her basket, some thing caught my eye. Bourbon chocolate cream biscuits . Millions of packets . But I could swear she hated them . I distinctly remembered . Any thing and everything to do with the dark chocolatey goodness was anathema to her . I remember baking a vanilla sponge cake for her (and my kids hated it " what happened to the chocolate muffins " They demanded) when we called them over for dinner. And I always prided myself on my exceptional memory. I wasn't letting some dimwitted lady-wife get the better of me . 

"Excuse me ", I said . The sales woman froze in midair , her hand holding an insect spray ."Two of those " I smiled politely , and turned to Seema / Shiela, to look into the eyes of a harried looking husband ,who had materialised from nowhere, like a genie, rapidly emptying the contents of the cart into a huge duffel bag. 
"Ma'am , good afternoon.Great meeting you here. .We live in the hospital guest room.You must come and see us "
He panted while continuing his emptying job, zipping up the bag and slinging it on his shoulder. He too seemed to have lost weight .

The wife stood stiffly away, goggles on eyes , aloof , unreachable.She waved and I waved back.

I came home , and I recounted everything to my better half , who listened to my story patiently , while examining his toe nails , and clipping his nostril-hairs standing in front of the bathroom mirror. Saying nothing. After , I had finished my tirade about forgetful and dimwitted women , brushed my teeth and changed , switched off the light and prepared to sleep,my hubby spoke in the dark-" Mrs .Shalini Vohra ."
"What ?" 
"You met Mrs .Shalini Vohra today , and her husband Sqn.Ldr.Asutosh Vohra."
"Yes,Yes!! That was the name . How do you know ?"
Excited , I switched the light back on .
"Astrocytoma."
"What ?"
"Mrs . Vohra is suffering from brain tumor , after multiple surgeries and chemo therapies , the doctors have now given her six months' to live , max. Her poor husband is running all over the place fulfilling all her wishes . She loved shopping remember "
"The bourbon biscuits ?"
" Cravings of a dying person."