Ironies of life (1)

 The ladies sat in a large circle . They were swapping jokes and hilarity was high. All held glasses in their hands , and talked ill of the weather and the snacks. Never too much of a dresser , Sona always felt left out in such gatherings. People were dressed to the hilt, with multiple layers of make up. They talked of brands of eye-makeup, and Sona felt as if she belonged to a different planet.

She remembered a similar emotion gripping her when her sister took her to a famous jewellery shop in Kolkata. The ground floor was dedicated to gold, the first floor to silver and kundan jewellery, and the second to precious and semiprecious stones . It was like visiting a different world altogether. Gunmen bristled at every landing and at every entrance . It looked like a fortress, as well-dressed women , reeking of expensive perfume , tried out jewellery , with varying degrees of desire glinting in their eyes . There were cameras that whirred , clicked and swivelled . The billing clerk sat behind a bullet proof glass enclosure . All walked with their noses high up in the air , like princesses. Sona saw more crocodile leather bags , gucci shoes and faux fur , than she had ever seen in her entire life .

What was amazing was that this was still the same Kolkata that she knew . Of overflowing storm -drains , where high tide inundated entire "paras"( localities), twice in a day , and lepers begged with their battered aluminium bowls , right outside the jewellery shop.

It galled her. This nauseating display of wealth and poverty together.