genre: fiction
NOTE: This story is not based on my life. Resemblance to any person living or death is purely co-incidental.
Meghna Maiti
The
days were becoming increasingly long and the nights- stretched to eternity. The
seasons were passing by, unnoticed, un-loved. The hours were but deadened
awakening of mundane routines. The weather inside the small apartment No. 13 at
St. Ellis Road
The
clock struck 10 pm. Maya sighed and started preparing food for her daughter. As
she got busy mixing vegetables, lentils and rice with adequate ghee (clarified
butter) and sugar to make it palatable for the baby, she knew Harit- her
husband would not return home tonight. He had not been home from his workplace
for almost a fortnight now.
Harit ran his own business venture related with artist management and supply of paintings and artefacts to the galleries and retail shops. He worked from his business partner’s apartment in Mumbai suburb, around an hour’s drive from his own house.
Harit ran his own business venture related with artist management and supply of paintings and artefacts to the galleries and retail shops. He worked from his business partner’s apartment in Mumbai suburb, around an hour’s drive from his own house.
Harit
often disappeared from home for days citing work and deadline pressures. He
shirked household responsibilities leaving his wife with no means or support to
run the house. Yet he expected everything to function smoothly and effortlessly
with no complaint whatsoever.
“Why
don’t you come home early and take us out? We never go anywhere,” Maya would
sometimes raise an issue. Harit remained as unmoved, calm and composed as ever
as he answered, “I am setting up a big business, darling. My work does not
allow me to be home early and out. We have to be disciplined, work and prosper
for our own good. Everything else is a waste of time.”
Maya
would frown and yell at him in exasperation, “You are talking about work and
all that. But I am the one who is paying all bills. How long will this go on?
We don’t even eat out or go for fun-trips. We don’t party like other couples.”
-“It’s
all in the mind, Maya. True to your name, you are all full of illusions. Clear
yourself of it. Don’t be so materialistic. Have patience.”
But
Maya was indeed losing patience these days. She would lose temper, throw
tantrums and be rude to people. Her world was becoming narrow and narrower till
it could almost be passed through a crevice. While her boss at her workplace-
an advertising agency was getting difficult by the day, most friends had
started avoiding them for whatever reasons. Her only respite was painting-
which she clung on to like a mental patient to a therapist. She often drew
portraits of girls from her neighbourhood or colleagues from office. She would
paint sceneries, interesting incidents on the road. Unlike her life, her
paintings stood out brilliantly- those were large, vibrant, colourful and
forceful- etched with love and nostalgia. Though she was merely an amateur
painter, the photographs of her art on social networking sites drew huge appreciation
from critics and friends.
Of
late Maya had been thinking of Harit with a strong sense of bitterness- she
would resent the way he was inattentive to her needs, irresponsible to his own
family- how he would return home only to spend time with his daughter- chide
Maya for coming in late from her office parties- and depend on her for his
finances. Even his gestures of kindness and freedom were more out of gratitude
than love, she felt.
Such
unsettling times called for adventure, even dangerous love, bordering on
insanity that could either lead to creation or destruction. And especially a
person like Maya needed just that potion of abyss abandonment to find her lost
self. After a bad fight with Harit on an evening, she felt her mind whirring
with a million bees. She made a random call to a person who had been stalking
her for days and returned home the next day from a one-night stand with the
stranger- she swore never to meet again.
Thus
she built her secret, crazy, meaningless life, in the space between vice and
oblivion, beyond the glance of one and all. She started singularly spinning
around the world with her multiple selves.
And
then, what kept Maya in the marriage? Why wasn’t she leaving him for good? She
thought over it umpteen times yet held herself back. Hadn’t that blue-eyed
tarot-reader girl whom Maya trusted with all her heart told her that her
husband was her karma. She had to be in the relationship to pay off her karmic
debt- a Hindu religious concept of basically- action and reaction. Hadn’t her
mother who now lived in an ashrama in Kerala told her repeatedly three years
ago when she wanted to separate from her husband, “Isn’t it your dharma (moral
duty) to stay with your husband? You cannot leave him if you want to be happy.”
And what would happen to Rishima?- her closest friend from college had asked.
“Your life would be ruined if you leave him. Where would you go? Would you find
another person?” her father had warned who also stayed at the ashrama. She
stared hard into clouds of darkness as she listened to the ceaseless droning of
all voices and wandered about the road ahead.
“Relax!
You are an awesome person. You will be fine,”- sweet words of consolation from
Maya’s friend and colleague- Nishant- brought her some relief. Her grief and
emptiness took their friendship to a more intimate level. On a week day, after
work, they caught up at Nishant’s place to share a joint. The slow drags of
hash reddened her kohl-smudged eyes and consumed her being. She loosened up and felt much lighter, like a
maze of soap bubbles. Her failed attempts at catching it left a smirk on her
face. Then they broke into a peal of laughter, laughed and laughed till the
house echoed of their bitter-sweet nothingness; the air grew thick of the
pleasure-inducing smoke; till the night turned abnormally silent apart from the
heavy breath of the lovers. They got drawn to each other like two moths to a
flame and made love till the break of the dawn, listening to the repeating
romantic track from the movie- “The Roman Lord”- which means- “The depth of
these moments could only be measured by our feelings….”
“What’s
up? You look too excited?”- Harit asked Maya after a sudden appearance on a
breezy morning. The dazzling sun of the day lit up their faces. “Yes, why not?
I was born on this day. I don’t expect you to remember though,” Maya retorted.
“Oops, I’m so sorry!” Harit quickly edged forward with an apologetic expression
and hugged her “Happy Birthday!” “I totally forgot, its August 13! I promise we
would go out for dinner tonight.” Harit kissed her goodbye.
Maya
remained cheerful throughout the day, took an off at work, stayed at home and
stitched her embroidered top for dinner that Harit had bought from his office
trip to London, years ago. Those were the initial years of marriage when Maya
was blindly passionate about him. She would wait to slip into his arms, make
love the entire day. She had wanted to remain loyal to him forever.
Maya
took pains to dress up beautifully for their birthday dinner together- she
curled her hair, wore bright-red lipstick, cream eye-shadow, mascara and her
pink pearl-set to go with her skirt-blouse.
The
wait turned out to be a tad longer as usual- the clock struck one am- Harit
had still not returned home. She felt a surge of exasperation and ferocity that
almost drove her to frenzy. In a fit of rage, she called up her playboy single
man she had a fling with long ago. Maya told him she wanted to meet him in an
hour’s time. She stormed out of the house after entrusting Rishima to the care of the nanny. When Maya returned the next morning, Harit had still not come back.
The
intermittent episodes of infidelity and the shutting down of all other voices
eventually gave Maya the strength to see the truth. Perhaps this was not the
best way but this was undoubtedly a unique path to freedom and independence.
She finally decided to separate from her husband and liberate herself from the
fallacy of action and the path of righteousness. She learnt that karma was
after all in the mind and in the end what mattered was how truly and freely she
lived her life- how true she was to her innermost desires. And she felt happier
than ever.
ENDS
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