The first time I met Lisa (name changed) was when we were grouped together for the interview in Bangalore. Being two Malayalee girls fresh out of engineering college in an unknown city was reason enough for us to bond together. But that's where the similarities ended. I was a brought up in a small village in Kottayam, studied in a catholic convent and then in a very traditional college. Lisa, on the other hand was a product of the metros - born in Mumbai to Malayalee parents and did her engineering in New Delhi. She was at home even in a new city of Bangalore and quickly made friends, especially with the boys. She was an extrovert, outgoing, attractive, dressed fashionably and wore branded accessories. I remember that my blue churidaar looked so inadequate next to her sharp pant-suit. She had saloon coloured, straightened hair and reeked of an expensive perfume. I instantly admired and respected her.
Both of us got the job and were posted for a month's training in Mysore. She was excited. I was overwhelmed with the prospect of shifting to a strange city for a month. She promised to take care of me. She kind of adopted me, as you would adopt a stray puppy. She always looked at me with just a tinge of sympathy in her eyes.
The day we landed in Mysore, Lisa triumphantly found us a small house to rent, in less than 2 hours. She strutted around the city as if she had lived there all her life. As soon as we settled in, she set out on her pet project of giving me a makeover. She took me to a high end saloon and got my hair, nails and face done. It piled up an intimidating bill which she happily paid with her card. I promised myself to pay her back when I receive my first salary. She went ahead to pick up new clothes, trendy metal jewellery and a handbag for me. I realised that my salary may now be inadequate to pay her back.
At the training class, she was the centre of all the attention. She flirted carelessly with the guys and the occasional instructor. Everyone around her treated her like a princess and were eager to please her. I was invisible, out of their radar. At home, her phone kept beeping with sweet messages and unsolicited calls, which she nonchalantly ignored. She rued that the boys weren't cute enough and there weren't any hip pubs in the vicinity. She gossiped non stop of the sleazy information she had about the guys and pompously told me tales of her past smutty adventures. I envied her further.
Staying with her, I tried emulating her routine of exercise, beauty products, waxing, tried a bit of alcohol and smoked for the first time. She was proud of the progress I made, but she had bigger plans for me.
She once caught me ogling at a dark skinned young boy who works for the neighbourhood dhobi and ironing guy. He was in his early 20s, was tall and looked quite robust. He wore only shorts, was athletic and had an earthy, musky odour. Lisa teased me incessantly for lingering my gaze on his body. I pointed out that like all the other men in Mysore, the boy had eyes only for her.
It was true. I have seen him stare at Lisa - particularly at her breasts when he would drop off or collect the laundry. Lisa wore tee shirts and shorts at home. Her fair, waxed, slender legs would catch everyone's attention. The boy was also mesmerised by them, but he would soon divert his stare at her fully covered breasts. Was he looking for a hint of cleavage or imagining them naked in his head? Even though, I was fairer and had larger breasts, mine were hidden under layers of salwars, kurtis and what-nots. Lisa noticed his leacherous stare on her bosom the next time he dropped by. She playfully told me that she could make him stare at me and completely ignore her, if I did exactly as she told. I gleefully agreed.
We had only a few more weeks of training left. Hence, we put our plan into action at the earliest. She asked the boy whether he could collect our laundry in the early hours of the day, everyday. He readily agreed - possibly dreaming about Lisa's shorter shorts and flimsier tops. Lisa then went ahead and brought me a white sleeveless, mid thigh length dress with a deep neck. I had never worn a short dress until then. I tried it on and immediately felt slutty. She asked me to wear the outfit for the boy the next day. I was so excited that I didn't even sleep.
