Standing on Lies
Everything about her was a lie. Sheena knew this was what most people whose path she ever crossed would say about her. Yet she had to live too. And for that weaving a web of dynamic lies was pertinent.
"Madam, where did you say you worked?" the broker asked the third time.
She was certain he was double-checking that she was telling the truth, and not that he had forgotten that she had answered this question earlier.
Agitated to the core in her heart yet putting up a calm smile she answered, "ANB bank. I'm the senior director for marketing services in India. Just moved back to India from Australia to take up this new role."
"Hmm... hmm ", he clicked his tongue and tapped his foot. The client definitely had the money. But the only problem was that she was a woman.
"And madam, your husband? Has he also moved to India? "
She put up a sad face now, "No, unfortunately, he passed away two years ago in Sydney. Sudden heart attack."
"Oh... I'm so sorry." He waited for a moment before posing the next question, "And your family?"
She smiled; "They're spread across the globe. A brother in the UK, a sister in the US and a sister-in-law in Dubai. We are basically from Bengal. Parents are no longer alive though some of the extended relations live there."
She moved about tapping the walls as if checking everything was in order. She just needed the apartment for a few months, till her next assignment was complete.
She hoped the broker’s interrogation was over.
"When can we do the rent agreements? I like the place," she said hoping to speed up the actual work.
“Yes, yes ma'am. I'll draw up the agreements, get the owner’s signature and you can move in in a day or two. Meanwhile, can I have a copy of your passport, Aadhaar, PAN card, and employee ID?”
Hmm... Still further checks. But she had all the necessary documents ready. She had anticipated it.
All her papers went through smoothly and she moved in two days later to the sprawling 2 BHK overlooking the Worli sea link.
Only she knew on how many lies she had obtained the apartment. But she also knew to cover up the lies well. After all you needed to back lies with evidence to make them seem like facts. And she had sufficient experience in it, doing it over and over several times.
Sometimes a widow, sometimes a married woman with an overseas husband, sometimes an army wife… But always somebody's wife or widow. She had to bear that false identity even though she had never married. That's what the brokers and the society wanted to hear. That's what a good woman was.
“Phase 1 of the mission accomplished,” she sighed as she lounged on her sprawling sofa with a glass of red wine.