Thursday, 25 March 2010

The neighborhood woman

He sat on a fiber chair in the Veranda reading newspaper. His wife was somewhere in the house, perhaps in the kitchen, and his one year old daughter slept on the floor next to him. In ten minutes he was through with the newspaper.

He was four days into his ten day vacation. His eyes panned the houses in front of him. The freshly painted house on the right  caught his attention. He remembered the conversation his mother had with him the previous night.

“Ohh, You should have been here last year.”
His mother was explaining the events which took place six months ago.

“ God always snatches people he loves the most.” She had said.
“Babu wouldn’t be more than thirty. Only two months into the marriage and this tragedy. You should see his wife Reena: how young and beautiful.”

Mother's description of beauty didn’t register in him, he was used to her exaggerations. The magnitude of the tragedy was enormous no doubt. “Just two months into marriage”. He repeated his mother’s dialogue in his mind.
“Lucky they didn’t have babies.Two months is enough to have a baby.” He thought.

He remembered, his cousin sister had delivered nine months into her marriage. “Perhaps she conceived the very first night of the marriage.They would have hooked-up the very night.” He had thought when he heard the news, though with guilt of having thought like that about his sister.

He could hear some movements in the house. May be it was Reena. Now he wanted to have a glimpse of her, just to confirm his mother: Or perhaps sadistic wish of examining the victim of such a grave tragedy.

He thought if she would remarry. “ How young and beautiful” His mother recurred in his mind. “A young and beautiful woman would have no problems  finding a mate. She would have her bodily desires too.” He couldn’t control his monologues.

“ Would she have experienced the bodily pleasures of mating?”.
“Two months into marriage!”
“Their's was love marriage. Inter-religious marriage. She is a Christian. God knows why most such marriages end in tragedy?” His mother had said, with visible signs of distress.

He wondered if mother secretly supported god’s decision of breaking such marriages.

“ They were on his motor cycle. Reena was behind. A fast bus was approaching on the opposite and there, they are hit.” He remembered his mother.
“ He died on the spot.” Mother had explained, as if it was a big feat to die like that.
“ She too was almost dead. We thought she too had. They took her to TMH and from there to the medical college. She came out of the coma after three weeks.four weeks in the ICU.”

“Poor girl. She couldn’t even witness the funeral of her husband.” His mother said. His mind made classifications of death. Not-conscious-to-witness-the-funeral-of-husband could be the worst degree of loss.
"We couldn't control her after she got her consciousness. " Mother had narrated. "She wanted to die. She was saying she has no reasons to live. Her reason for living way no more."

"We stopped her somehow. It was very difficult. I told her that she can consider her her mother and live with her. Like my daughter. " "Poor Girl".

He wanted to see her. His curiosity was mounting. “ Beautiful woman and a widow of two months of marriage. Not seen funeral too. How tragic.” He wasn’t sadistic, but he felt like one.He wondered if it was natural to have such thoughts. Was he turning into a psycho?

He walked towards the house.

A young woman greeted him on the doorsteps. He smiled at her. She returned his smile with a half lipped grin.

“Reena?” He asked.
She smiled in reply.

“ Please be seated.” She said courteously.

He sat on a cane chair.
“ I am Lakshmi Chechi’s Son.Manoj” He introduced himself.
“I know. Heard about you from Chechi.”
“ I will make tea.”

Before he could stop her she had left. He was stunned by her beauty, a real beautiful woman by any standards-Fair, Tall, Slim and graceful.

“Sexy”, if he could call her. He wanted to call her. A woman he would be proud to have as wife. A woman his friends would be envy of.  A woman who could provide all sorts of pleasures to a man. A man could never ask for more than a woman like her. He imagined her sleeping on a bed. He could spend hours staring at her. He wanted to look at her, for long moments, secretly, without her finding out.

She walked in with a tea cup.

“How is Divya chechi?” She asked.
“ She is doing good.”
“ How long is the vacation.”
“ We would travel next week”.
“ So chechi is traveling with you?”
He nodded. He was shy. He couldn’t look into her eyes. He felt awkward and uncomfortable.
He wanted to getup and walk back.

He passed the teacup to her.
“Potte.” He said( in Malayalam for “ Let me go”)
She smiled.
“ We will come later.Do come there. Divya said Hi.”

She smiled again.

Walking back he imagined her with her husband on a motorcycle. Her hands had clutched him from behind. She was whispering something into his ears and he was chuckling, very much in Love-Like Some condom advertisement on the TV.
He felt a desire for her. He wanted to be her man; he wanted her touches, her soft caresses on the motorcycle, she biting his ears out of love and bodily lure. Like the condom advertisement.

He felt envious of Babu. “Lucky man.A beautiful wife. A desirable woman. Enough to pass envy to any man.”
He was in love with her, whatever the word meant.

That night, sleep couldn’t get to him easily. He looked at his daughter sleeping next to him and his wife, sleeping further next to his daughter. His daughter formed a void space between them. He admired the innocence and the beauty of his daughter. A smile formed naturally.

He touched his wife’s hip. She turned as if to avoid his sudden incursion.
“You Slept?” He asked.
“ Hummm”. She replied.

“No you haven’t slept.”
“What do you want? If baby awakes you will have to make her sleep.” She fired at him annoyingly.
“ Do you Love me?” He asked.
“ Yea” She replied apathetically.
“ How much?”
“Uff, What happened to you? Gone mad?” She turned towards him to express her irritation.

“ What if I die, will you remarry?” he asked.
She got up and looked at him. She pinched hard on his thigh.
“ If I die will you cry for me? Refuse to eat and drink? Like the neighborhood lady Reena?” He asked her.

She looked at him hard. She got up and came close to him. She pushed him, making him roll to make space for her to lie next to him. She lazed next to him.
She hugged him hard. She rubbed her head on his hairy chest, gesture to show her affection.

She lifted her head and looked into his eyes. Her red eyes had drops of tears waiting to roll down.

“Never say things like this at night after supper. Where will your daughter and I go if you are not in this world? I too would die.”
She kissed him on his cheek.

He felt proud of himself. He felt manly; he had a woman who would prefer death than being his widow. He turned to hug her. She hugged him tight and he could feel her warm breath on his body, and drops of tears wetting his chest and flowing through the hairs, faintly tickling him.

Tuesday, 23 March 2010

Hi, My life updates

I thought I had just written a post few days back but was in for a super-shock.GRRRRRR……2 months and no updates.  I am still alive and breathing (If anyone cares).

Updates on My Life:

·         Went to Kerala on a tiny vacation. 10 days passed as if I was put to sleep and brought back to life 10 days later. That’s why I feel I should be more mindful of my existence; else life would pass by as if I were a moth born after the first rain.
·         Brought back the family. One year wait ended and my Wife and daughter traveled with me back to Bahrain. When I was alone I felt, as if my flat was huge, cold, lonely and depressing. Suddenly my 2 bedroom flat appeared too small a space. Little Ananya instantly conquered the space and declared possession, getting the life back to otherwise brick and cement and mortar.
·          My life has transformed for ever. Our( Wife and Mine) lives now revolves around the discretion of certain Ms. Ananya( my daughter) and we are adapting to her mood, Hunger and sleep. We whisper when she sleeps and only talk in our normal voices when she is awake. Three-forth of my Kingsize bed is now occupied by the reigning queen.She is awake by 5am, which otherwise was non existent hour of the day, and then starts the tussle to keep her entertained.  These days, my day start at 5 and until 9 am you could find me in the kitchen or providing amusement to the queen. AAAAAH..My Back.
·         Had party at my Wife’s house. It was fun. Whiskey(picked on the way from Duty-free) for the boyz( Bro-in-law, Father-in-law and me) and Martini for the girlz ( wife, Her sister and My MIL) and snacks, mostly consisting of fried seafood, flowed freely.

From Anu Birthday

           Celebrated Daughter’s first Birthday on the 10th of March(ABove photo  taken during her bday function). Booked a  Banquet hall at the Fortune Park hotel. It was Great Fun to see so many relatives and friends under one roof.
·         This year’s resolution of bridging the lost bond with my Father ended in the worst fight we have had so far. My father feels I have become proud and insolent and it’s because of the (he feels) success I have had in my career. I feel he is jealous of me, but then can a father be ever jealous of his son? Or is he jealous of the good relationship I share with my In-laws? Or is it because of over possessiveness?
·         After the fight, my father told me to leave the house immediately and it was past 9.30 pm at night. I had to beg him to allow us to stay until the morning because of the baby and the difficulty in getting a taxi so late at night (by Calicut standards). I promised that I wouldl never visit them again and my father challenged me to keep my promise. He cursed me that I would suffer and my bad days have only begun. My wife couldn’t control herself from crying and pleaded the old man not to curse us and the baby.
·         I feel whatever tiny bit of bond was left has been severed between us. I feel as if I have had no father, and the thought actually helps me feel better. I am through a strange situation in life when I feel it’s better to be an orphan than to cry over a disintegrated relationship. Its better to be fatherless than to have a father who has given me only hurt, all my life, including snatching my mother away from me.
·         It was my daughter’s first flight and she was howling almost half of it. Half of the passengers and almost all the crew tried appeasing her, of course without avail. We were glad that 4.5 hours of flight was over, which felt like one lifetime of flying. But once out of the plane she was all jovial and grab-whatever-comes-near-her-hand mood, including her papa’s hair and next passengers handbag.