I dragged the word document on my desktop
slowly into the recycle bin, as carefully as I would have helped a blind old
man cross the road. The desktop looked empty, almost reminiscent of the state
of my mind. I wiped my face with my palms and stood up from the chair I was
sitting in. Walking towards the balcony, I saw the food carefully arranged by
her on the dining table. I had no appetite. I lit a cigarette and stood facing
the huge apartments with their doors closed and clothes left to dry on the
railings. The cigarette smoked itself as I stood wondering about the time I
have been spending at home, doing nothing effectively. It was exactly three
years ago that I took a decision to quit my job and decided to be a house
husband to concentrate on my writing.
The first year was great. She went to work at
around 9 AM after having breakfast together and I had the entire house to
myself. I read a bit, till I thought I was inspired enough and wrote till 1 PM.
We called each other at lunch after which I got out, bought groceries, did some
chores and prepared coffee for myself. I read what I wrote and discarded most
of it, but when I called it a day at 6 PM I usually had something to read for
her in the night. She usually hated most of what I wrote and I defended that
she does not belong to my target readers. She never complained about her work
and I never felt a need to ask. After about a year, I was ready with my
manuscript and several rejections followed. I laughed the first few away but
their relentlessness took a toll on me. I got protective of my work and stopped
reading to her. She didn’t seem too concerned one way or the other. I discarded
more, wrote less and drank myself silly.
I went in and quickly retrieved the document
from the recycle bin. I read it entirely twice and felt frustrated about it. It
felt hideous and amateur and I don’t think such work should occupy any space.
It was another three months of my work. I pressed the shift and delete button
angrily on the key board when I heard the sound of her letting herself in. The
door to my room was slightly ajar from where I could see her discarding her
shoes and collapsing on our sofa. If she was disappointed with my failures, she
never let me feel it. It added more to my guilt and I decided that three years
was enough time I could have given to myself. I wanted to actually do something
and contribute to our family. I could not bear to look into her eyes anymore
unless I make myself useful in some way.
I could see the gap widening between us. We
rarely speak to each other these days. We eat separately and do not sleep
together anymore. I usually pass away with the amount of drinking I do and she
watches a movie or goes to sleep early. We don’t feel awkward when we face each
other but I feel thankful when I come back to my room. Sometimes I notice her
through the open door, like how I’m doing now, and want to reach out to her.
But I never had anything to say to comfort her. But now, I have it and I open
the door and sit beside her on the sofa. Her eyes are still closed and her head
resting on the pillow facing our ceiling where the fan whirled nonchalantly. We
are on the same room sitting on the same sofa, but we could not be any farther
than we are to each other now.
With the power cut and a dull sound, the fan
and the lights went off in every room and we were engulfed in darkness and
silence. I could hear her breathing and the rhythmic inhale and exhale of air.
I called out her name and put my hand on her shoulder. She snuggled closer to
me just by a wee bit and I informed her of my decision to go for a job again,
with a resigned voice. She didn't say anything and after a while said
that she was feeling hungry and suggested that we eat together. I asked
her if she wanted to go out to eat, but she preferred eating at home, whatever
was available. I prepared a table, lit candles and we sat facing each other.
The only sounds that were heard for the next few minutes were those of the
spoons clattering on the porcelain plates as I was still unsure of her reaction
to my decision. The power came on as we finished our dinner and I pushed for
her reaction again. She smiled and said that she was feeling sleepy. She asked
me to come with her to watch a movie together in her room. We saw Rituparno
Ghosh’s Antarmahal. She dozed off mid-way, her head resting precariously on my
shoulder as if she was unsure if I would be able to bear her weight. I made her
sleep properly on the bed and got out of the room.
I can’t remember when and how long I slept,
but I woke up to the gentle ruffling sounds of her packing her clothes into a
travel suitcase. She was also packing my clothes and I asked her if she was
going somewhere. She ordered me to get ready and left to book us a cab. We
reached the airport together in the cab, when I asked her where we were going,
she smiled and asked me to let her surprise me.
We reached the airport, where she checked us
in to the flight leaving to the Maldives in an hour. It took me five years
back, when we first went to the country immediately after getting married. I
had very fond memories of the place and the time we spent together. Though it
was thoughtful of her to choose the spot again for a holiday, I was not sure if
I was prepared for it. I was shabbily dressed and with my scraggy beard I felt
totally out of place in the flight which has newlyweds giggling sheepishly,
muttering their words so that only they can hear each other with not a care for
others in the world. I took my seat near the window and she followed me, the
seat next to us remained vacant.
We reached our hotel around 7 PM in the
evening and decided to call it off a day. I shaved myself clean and put on a
clean white shirt the next morning and ordered coffee for us. We had our coffee
in bed as she looked at me admiringly. We lazed around the entire day in our
private bungalow that she has booked for us. It was the same one we stayed five
years ago and it almost felt surreal to be there again. We sat on the chairs
looking at the azure waters that covered the vast expanses of our sight. I
could have stayed there for another day without doing anything but she
suggested we go out for our dinner.
The sun was setting when we got out of our
bungalow and we both knew the exact place to dine. It was after all the same
one we dined earlier and it was not difficult to find it again. We took a
corner seat and for the first time on our trip I looked into her eyes as we
settled ourselves. Then I started speaking. It was an endless stream of all the
thoughts and frustrations that were suppressed in me for the last two years. I
told her everything about my work and how inferior I always found it. I told
her about my lack of discipline and how I resorted to drinking as an escape,
about my guilt in being home all day and not being worth anything to our
family, about my inability to communicate or to make sense either with my
writing or with my behavior.
She sat silently and never took her eyes off
me. She did not say anything, nor stopped my flow. She sat there looking at me
as if I’m performing a single act stage play with her as an exclusive audience.
Her eyes were riveted to me and I don’t know what I found in them or if I
understood what she felt. Is she forgiving my failures and saying that it was
okay. Is she pushing me to face the reality and to man up. Is she accusing me
of being so full of myself and never having any concern about her? Does she
accept my failure? More importantly is she suggesting that I’m a failure and
it’s about time I accept it? Is this trip a taunt on my inabilities, financial
and familial?
We finished our dinner and she paid the bill.
We got back to our bungalow and with a drink in our hands sat again on the
chairs that we left before going out. I did not stop talking to her and she
seemed to be processing all that I was blabbering. I even told her that I was
ready to take a job again, start working and become useful. I think I was
exhausted by the night and could no longer speak about anything. She went to
refill our glasses and I was left with my silence again. It felt great to
finally get everything out of my system. I needed that and she knew that. That
was the whole point of this trip. A solitary tear drop tried in vain to break
through the reservoir of my eyes but I controlled it before she returned with
our drinks. I snuggled closer to her and she kept her hand on mine, closed her
eyes, smiled and said that we are leaving to Hyderabad the next day and that
she would accept any decision of mine. I felt a mountain was lifted off my back
and was surprised how easy it always was and how stupid I was not to realize it
earlier.
We sat waiting for the flight back to
Hyderabad when she showed me this video, saying this was how she got the whole
idea of this trip. “Only change is, I had to play the romantic.” She smiled and
I joined in.
P.S : This is a work of fiction.
This story is written
as a part of Go Further to get Closer contest by British Airways hosted by IndiBlogger
Good one, NSV :)
ReplyDeleteBest wishes!
Thanks for reading and liking Anita
DeleteNice .....really nice..... :)
ReplyDeleteThanks a lot. :)
DeleteGreat story...best of luck for the contest :)
ReplyDeleteThanks Pankti..best of luck to you too
DeleteI liked it. I not only liked it, but really envying now. You know why, but as it is, very supe indeed. Three claps.
ReplyDeleteI think you have missed the post script here Rio :P It is a fiction. Anyway thanks for reading and liking it
DeleteNice post Sarma, best of luck hope you win the flight tickets
ReplyDeleteThanks Vijay...:) I hope to win something
DeleteFiction that is as pure and sincere like a poetry, it was nice to see loneliness as the catalyst for the distance and not relatives, for a change, which makes it more practical too. I was lost in their world of love, thank you for taking me there. Win or no win, no one knows, but one thing I can say -- I feel like I should be reading more here. All the best.
ReplyDeleteI'm totally floored by your comment Arti. You really made my day. Thanks a lot for reading, liking and saying so many nice words about the post.
DeleteI likd it . Nice story ..Mr Sarma . Best of luck for the contest .
ReplyDeleteThank you Vivek for reading, liking and ur wishes :)
Delete"The Suspense of Love and Feel" I thoroughly Enjoyed reading this..Way 2 Go Brother...
ReplyDeleteThanks for reading and liking it Mukesh
Delete