Shrottaon se nivedan hai ki apne aachaar, vichar, bhaav aur pyaar, khaton athwa tippaniyon ke dwara hum tak pahunchaate rahen...
*Asuvidha ke liye khed hai*
The Inconvenience is deeply regretted
Aapki Seva mein
Yours truly,
Meenakshi
-------------------------------------
Love-hate-life
A passionate being she is.
Has for ever been…
Loved herself enough,
To die for her being.
Hated herself even more,
To kill the self in vengeance.
But just not enough indifference
to go on living…
each day, each hour,
every passing moment…
Friday, May 18, 2007
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
Creating Nirjhira- part 1
Hi everybody, I am posting a part of what I had posted earlier, to maintain the flow. This is the completed part-1. Cheers!
Scene-1
It was a bright starlit night.
The queen of the sky, in her crescent chariot, bedecked in the grandeur of white brilliance, presided over the revelry of the night. She smiled graciously at the performance of her ardent admirers, the prim and prop, well dressed, knights of the night, who well portrayed their skills at the art of chivalry, to amuse the queen.
While this act was brewing up in the heavens, on the surface of earth sat a solitary soul by his window… romancing with the cool breeze, wearing a smile indicative of his lost countenance… a silent spectator to the night’s frolics. The very image of a man, freshly struck by Cupid’s arrows… gazing at the moon, possibly summoning in his mind, lines from love sonnets of Sidney and Spenser… comparing his beloved with the moon. By his window he sat, lost in recollecting every moment of that evening when he had met her. And like all those romantic, passionate hearts that believe in “Love at first sight”, our dear young friend, lost his heart to this beautiful maiden at the party. Just like the hero of all classic love stories, every night, he stares at the moon, like it was a mirror reflecting his thoughts in images, and in that image, he sees his beloved’s face. Thus the queen of the sky once again became the patron of yet another pair of lovers. Today, in an especially gracious disposition, she dismisses her court early and sits in solitude with the lover, both admiring in verbal abundance, the object of his passionate love. But our hero is still a rational lover… now does that sound like an oxymoron? Can love and rationale go together? Well I say so, because this gentleman, warrants moderation in his praise for his lady. See what he tells the moon…
Lover:
No… not so high…
Let her be firmly grounded,
for she fears to fly.
No… not so deep…
Let her be perceived shallow,
than plunge in fair conceit.
Oh! not even so fair…
She’s but the colour of dusk,
Dark nights form her hair.
Her eyes are not coral blue,
But a dark brown affair.
Her temperance?
How do I tell you what it be,
Sometimes, a dormant volcano,
Sometimes, a tempestuous sea.
If coquetry be a maid’s weapon,
She has brandished none,
And yet against her natural charms,
All men and deities summon.
If women feign innocence,
To win the hearts of men,
She feigns a fake cunning,
I know not to what gain?
Timidity, fragility and subservience
Are traits to her unknown.
She possesses a tender heart,
With a mind of her own.
She is not a noted beauty,
Nor has any craft conjured…
In her strength and vulnerability
I find my heart conquered.
Moon:
Bravo! Bravo Young heart!
With each syllable you utter
drips a part of your heart…
Love melts in your words,
Making your voice hoarse…
But such are the ways of love
It must take its own course.
But tell me, does she know?
This so desirable an affliction,
does her countenance show?
Aah! do not hesitate bud…
To speak your heart…
Do not in the least fret
the nature of her retort.
I have been a witness
To many love legends,
And seen many crumble
Under mere fake pretence.
Denial my friend, is an agreeable offence.
Submit to your fate, but only at will’s end.
Let not the heart be turned to lead,
By a few words wanted, left unsaid.
And thus the moon pronounced the woe of many lovers… the tale of broken hearts, of love unrequited. But no… our friend is a man of courage, not easily dithered in his decision. With dawn shall he pledge, his heart love-laden, to his beloved maiden. While the moon and this man did plot the plan… in another corner of the city conspired another man. Now this other man turning out to be, the father of the bride-to-be, is a matter of sheer coincidence. And his conspiracy should concern the subject of her wedding, is again err… providence? hmmmm… Do I smell trouble? lets wait and watch…
------------ end of scene-1 --------------------
Scene-1
It was a bright starlit night.
The queen of the sky, in her crescent chariot, bedecked in the grandeur of white brilliance, presided over the revelry of the night. She smiled graciously at the performance of her ardent admirers, the prim and prop, well dressed, knights of the night, who well portrayed their skills at the art of chivalry, to amuse the queen.
While this act was brewing up in the heavens, on the surface of earth sat a solitary soul by his window… romancing with the cool breeze, wearing a smile indicative of his lost countenance… a silent spectator to the night’s frolics. The very image of a man, freshly struck by Cupid’s arrows… gazing at the moon, possibly summoning in his mind, lines from love sonnets of Sidney and Spenser… comparing his beloved with the moon. By his window he sat, lost in recollecting every moment of that evening when he had met her. And like all those romantic, passionate hearts that believe in “Love at first sight”, our dear young friend, lost his heart to this beautiful maiden at the party. Just like the hero of all classic love stories, every night, he stares at the moon, like it was a mirror reflecting his thoughts in images, and in that image, he sees his beloved’s face. Thus the queen of the sky once again became the patron of yet another pair of lovers. Today, in an especially gracious disposition, she dismisses her court early and sits in solitude with the lover, both admiring in verbal abundance, the object of his passionate love. But our hero is still a rational lover… now does that sound like an oxymoron? Can love and rationale go together? Well I say so, because this gentleman, warrants moderation in his praise for his lady. See what he tells the moon…
Lover:
No… not so high…
Let her be firmly grounded,
for she fears to fly.
No… not so deep…
Let her be perceived shallow,
than plunge in fair conceit.
Oh! not even so fair…
She’s but the colour of dusk,
Dark nights form her hair.
Her eyes are not coral blue,
But a dark brown affair.
Her temperance?
How do I tell you what it be,
Sometimes, a dormant volcano,
Sometimes, a tempestuous sea.
If coquetry be a maid’s weapon,
She has brandished none,
And yet against her natural charms,
All men and deities summon.
If women feign innocence,
To win the hearts of men,
She feigns a fake cunning,
I know not to what gain?
Timidity, fragility and subservience
Are traits to her unknown.
She possesses a tender heart,
With a mind of her own.
She is not a noted beauty,
Nor has any craft conjured…
In her strength and vulnerability
I find my heart conquered.
Moon:
Bravo! Bravo Young heart!
With each syllable you utter
drips a part of your heart…
Love melts in your words,
Making your voice hoarse…
But such are the ways of love
It must take its own course.
But tell me, does she know?
This so desirable an affliction,
does her countenance show?
Aah! do not hesitate bud…
To speak your heart…
Do not in the least fret
the nature of her retort.
I have been a witness
To many love legends,
And seen many crumble
Under mere fake pretence.
Denial my friend, is an agreeable offence.
Submit to your fate, but only at will’s end.
Let not the heart be turned to lead,
By a few words wanted, left unsaid.
And thus the moon pronounced the woe of many lovers… the tale of broken hearts, of love unrequited. But no… our friend is a man of courage, not easily dithered in his decision. With dawn shall he pledge, his heart love-laden, to his beloved maiden. While the moon and this man did plot the plan… in another corner of the city conspired another man. Now this other man turning out to be, the father of the bride-to-be, is a matter of sheer coincidence. And his conspiracy should concern the subject of her wedding, is again err… providence? hmmmm… Do I smell trouble? lets wait and watch…
------------ end of scene-1 --------------------
Tagged Again :-)
I have been tagged again by Jeevy [Rajeev]... And I have no clue how you create the hyperlink here... so please check for the links in section Kadiyaan towards your right.
This tag as I understand is part of some link exchange... whatever it means... :-)
1. The person who was tagged will just have to make an introduction and link back to who tagged you.
2. List your five reasons as to why you blog.
3. Choose five people and tag them.
4. Drop a comment on their blog to let them know they were tagged. And it’s done!
Five Reasons why I blog: here you go...
1. To share with people the idea of love, the feeling of brotherhood [and sisterhood. grrrr... how dare they forget the better halves?], to contribute to the society in my own little way.... [clap clap... Now do I get the Miss Universe Crown? And yeah my idol is Mother Teresa.] ;-)
2. Okie seriously... I love blogging because I feel a sense of belonging here. Every verse, every story, every word and every blank space here is mine... and I love it. It is like a "feel at home" while in office. [I blog when I am in office... hehehehe]
3. And I love the people here. I may not know each one of you personally, I may not identify you while brushing through you at the malls... I may not identify you at CCD tables, I may not know you while walking through Brigade/ MG Road... But here, the moment you utter a word, I know you... I can relate to you. :-)
4. And I blog because someone somewhere told me... "I can write". So I write... and since I am not the best writer in the world, not even the best in India. So I this is a humble abode for my mediocre dabbles at what I call creativity. And thank you all for bearing with it and encouraging me to write further. Comments mean a lot.
5. The last reason why I blog is because I cannot give sound to my words, my voice fails to word my feelings... and that my characters do for me here... I speak through them. I speak through the stories, the poems here on my blog. Hence, you always feel them more than you read them... because I have no literary genius, no word power... not even great thoughts to share... all I have is these feelings. :-)
Okie and now for the tag hunt... Today, I take this opportunity to Tag...
1. Vibhanshu: You tagged me last time...badla! hehehehe [I know u r busy... take ur time... see I am so good ;-)]
2. AKS: you have been away for quite sometime... so come on punishment time. ;-)
3. Kazarelth: I tagged you last time, but you happily ignored. better answer this time. grrrrrr
4. Protege: hehehehe you asked me where I was... so here I am. :-)
5. Aman: Yes you Standbymind. Comeon... get active. :-)
5. Miraj: Yeah you are tagged too. :-)
Enjoy everybody! cheers!
This tag as I understand is part of some link exchange... whatever it means... :-)
1. The person who was tagged will just have to make an introduction and link back to who tagged you.
2. List your five reasons as to why you blog.
3. Choose five people and tag them.
4. Drop a comment on their blog to let them know they were tagged. And it’s done!
Five Reasons why I blog: here you go...
1. To share with people the idea of love, the feeling of brotherhood [and sisterhood. grrrr... how dare they forget the better halves?], to contribute to the society in my own little way.... [clap clap... Now do I get the Miss Universe Crown? And yeah my idol is Mother Teresa.] ;-)
2. Okie seriously... I love blogging because I feel a sense of belonging here. Every verse, every story, every word and every blank space here is mine... and I love it. It is like a "feel at home" while in office. [I blog when I am in office... hehehehe]
3. And I love the people here. I may not know each one of you personally, I may not identify you while brushing through you at the malls... I may not identify you at CCD tables, I may not know you while walking through Brigade/ MG Road... But here, the moment you utter a word, I know you... I can relate to you. :-)
4. And I blog because someone somewhere told me... "I can write". So I write... and since I am not the best writer in the world, not even the best in India. So I this is a humble abode for my mediocre dabbles at what I call creativity. And thank you all for bearing with it and encouraging me to write further. Comments mean a lot.
5. The last reason why I blog is because I cannot give sound to my words, my voice fails to word my feelings... and that my characters do for me here... I speak through them. I speak through the stories, the poems here on my blog. Hence, you always feel them more than you read them... because I have no literary genius, no word power... not even great thoughts to share... all I have is these feelings. :-)
Okie and now for the tag hunt... Today, I take this opportunity to Tag...
1. Vibhanshu: You tagged me last time...badla! hehehehe [I know u r busy... take ur time... see I am so good ;-)]
2. AKS: you have been away for quite sometime... so come on punishment time. ;-)
3. Kazarelth: I tagged you last time, but you happily ignored. better answer this time. grrrrrr
4. Protege: hehehehe you asked me where I was... so here I am. :-)
5. Aman: Yes you Standbymind. Comeon... get active. :-)
5. Miraj: Yeah you are tagged too. :-)
Enjoy everybody! cheers!
Saturday, May 5, 2007
Sometimes...
Sometimes...
The throat constricts,
eyes widen,
fingers twitch,
a toe nudging on the other...
lips tremble, hesitant,
yet wanting an eager look
of the flushed face, burning hot.
A pressure on the heart,
Sinking it...
...gasping for breath...
the words die on the lips.
Sometimes...
Eyes pour,
wash out everything,
a complete sweep.
Words blurt out in plosives,
explode between the sobs...
and then a numbing silence,
a tipsy weightlessness
morphing into peaceful slumber.
:-)
The throat constricts,
eyes widen,
fingers twitch,
a toe nudging on the other...
lips tremble, hesitant,
yet wanting an eager look
of the flushed face, burning hot.
A pressure on the heart,
Sinking it...
...gasping for breath...
the words die on the lips.
Sometimes...
Eyes pour,
wash out everything,
a complete sweep.
Words blurt out in plosives,
explode between the sobs...
and then a numbing silence,
a tipsy weightlessness
morphing into peaceful slumber.
:-)
Thursday, May 3, 2007
Tagged!
Wow! I am tagged by Vibhanshu. My first, so I am enjoying it. :-)
1.Pick out a scar you have, and explain how you got it.
I don’t have a scar… marks yes… but not a scar. [See, I have exhibited a positive attitude all my life ;-)]
2. What is on the walls in your room?
Nothing… they are blank. Just one poster on the door. The room is so stuffed that if I were to add even a thing extra, the room would sink from the third floor to the second.
3. What does your phone look like?
Weird, but it feels like a dairy milk bar in my hand. It is motoslim. ;-)
4. What music do you listen to?
All kinds of hindi music with good lyrics and a music that is not too jarry.
5. What is your current desktop picture?
That’s my sweetheart… my niece. Isn’t she cute?
6. What do you want more than anything right now?
Right now I just want to run away from office, home, everything... and land up in an unknown land.
7. Do you believe in gay marriage?
No I don’t. Its not productive ;-)
8. What time were you born?
I don’t know :-(
9. Are your parents still together?
…………….
10. What are you listening to?
Right now I am listening to Khamaaj- “mora piya mo se bole naa”
11. Do you get scared of the dark?
Naah…. Scared and me? I am scared of nothing.
12. The last person to make you cry?
Ummmm... my brother, when he scolded me for getting up late in the morning. 9.00 is not that late afterall is it?
13. What is your favorite perfume/cologne?
No favourites, I keep changing.
14. What kind of hair/eye colour do you like on the opposite sex?
Brown eyes [any shade of brown]. hair: dark brown
15. Do you like pain killers?
I love them when I have a headache. Otherwise no.
16. Are you too shy to ask someone out?
For a date? Never asked. But I guess I would be.
17. Favorite pizza topping?
Olives and mushrooms… and lots of cheese.
18. If you could eat anything right now, what would it be?
Yummmy, creamy, delicious, hot, Pasta… yummmm
19. Who was the last person you made mad?
My client… hehehehehe
20. Is anyone in love with you?
Aaah love! Yeh ishq nahi aasaan…
Oh did you say in love with me? Sigh… how I wish! Hmmmm ;-)
Okie now who do I tag? Vyom is already tagged by Vibhanshu, Jeevy is already tagged and I see the same set of questions. Aks and Reaper have suddenly disappeared from blogosphere. Sushant has quit blogging. hmmm yep... caught you... Kazarelth, Shammu and Ravali. enjoy. :-)
1.Pick out a scar you have, and explain how you got it.
I don’t have a scar… marks yes… but not a scar. [See, I have exhibited a positive attitude all my life ;-)]
2. What is on the walls in your room?
Nothing… they are blank. Just one poster on the door. The room is so stuffed that if I were to add even a thing extra, the room would sink from the third floor to the second.
3. What does your phone look like?
Weird, but it feels like a dairy milk bar in my hand. It is motoslim. ;-)
4. What music do you listen to?
All kinds of hindi music with good lyrics and a music that is not too jarry.
5. What is your current desktop picture?
That’s my sweetheart… my niece. Isn’t she cute?
6. What do you want more than anything right now?
Right now I just want to run away from office, home, everything... and land up in an unknown land.
7. Do you believe in gay marriage?
No I don’t. Its not productive ;-)
8. What time were you born?
I don’t know :-(
9. Are your parents still together?
…………….
10. What are you listening to?
Right now I am listening to Khamaaj- “mora piya mo se bole naa”
11. Do you get scared of the dark?
Naah…. Scared and me? I am scared of nothing.
12. The last person to make you cry?
Ummmm... my brother, when he scolded me for getting up late in the morning. 9.00 is not that late afterall is it?
13. What is your favorite perfume/cologne?
No favourites, I keep changing.
14. What kind of hair/eye colour do you like on the opposite sex?
Brown eyes [any shade of brown]. hair: dark brown
15. Do you like pain killers?
I love them when I have a headache. Otherwise no.
16. Are you too shy to ask someone out?
For a date? Never asked. But I guess I would be.
17. Favorite pizza topping?
Olives and mushrooms… and lots of cheese.
18. If you could eat anything right now, what would it be?
Yummmy, creamy, delicious, hot, Pasta… yummmm
19. Who was the last person you made mad?
My client… hehehehehe
20. Is anyone in love with you?
Aaah love! Yeh ishq nahi aasaan…
Oh did you say in love with me? Sigh… how I wish! Hmmmm ;-)
Okie now who do I tag? Vyom is already tagged by Vibhanshu, Jeevy is already tagged and I see the same set of questions. Aks and Reaper have suddenly disappeared from blogosphere. Sushant has quit blogging. hmmm yep... caught you... Kazarelth, Shammu and Ravali. enjoy. :-)
Tuesday, May 1, 2007
The twinkling night sky
A streak of bright light sneaked into the room through the gap between the curtains. It was the first light of the day, orange, bright, sharp, penetrating, so fresh that it drains in itself all the tedium, anger and frustration from the eyes that it forces open, replenishing it with hope and happiness. And this particular pair of eyes had a further reason for that special glint in them. A reason that made him smile as he woke up, a smile that originating on his lips reached his eyes, drawing those lines at the corner of the eyes which tell you about the most tender, most vulnerable part of a man’s life and being.
He called up his office and excused himself for 2 days, feigning illness that was not even remotely evident from his happy, ringing voice. They were to reach home by Saturday evening and it was already midweek. The house needed renovation, some drapes, some furnishing, to make it livable for a family. In all his five years of forced bachelorhood, he had not seen his apartment as anything more than a bed to sleep after a tiresome day at work. But now he would have a home. The word “home” for the first time evoked in him feelings indefinable... a strange sense of excitement, a strange longing, a sense of belonging that was beginning to associate itself with the sound of the word home. Finally, he would have a home to get back to. He would have someone open the doors for him when he rings the bell of his own house. He would not have to stare at the blank walls and wonder what to do if he came home early someday. He would not have to switch on the TV, to quieten the buzzing sound of silence in his own ears that had driven him mad many a times. Even the thought of all these lonesome days, made him elapse into a state of gloom, a reverie that was broken by the ringing telephone.
He answered the call. It was his wife, only to confirm the tentative programme schedule in her perfect manager-like fashion. She read out the complete schedule of their departure from London and arrival at Singapore and then the connecting flight to Bangalore. In the background, he could hear his six year old, quarrel with her elder sister for a doll and his heart melted with emotions that only his eyes could relate to. As for his wife, she was busy arranging the travel plans to notice the variations and vibrations in his voice. He assented to everything she said and at last as they were placing the receiver down, she muttered a “love you” in a hesitant, quiet voice, almost a whisper that made his senses tingle. It felt like they were saying this for the first time in all their 10 years of marriage. He managed to respond with a “love you too” that sounded just as mild, amidst the turmoil within him.
Ashutosh and Sujata had been married for a decade now. Theirs had been a love marriage, a love and courtship of more than 4 years that had resulted in their happy union with parent’s consent from both ends. They graduated together from ISBM, one of the reputed management institutes and joined the best software companies in Bangalore as managers. Three years of their life as a happily married couple, passed in a wink and to top that they found great success on the professional front. Both were advancing well in their careers. And then one day, they were blessed with a baby girl. Sujata had quit her job after the 7th month of pregnancy, when they both sat down and discussed the path her career would take thereafter. They both were clear that they wanted two kids and Sujata would have to sacrifice atleast 5 years if not more of her career in the bargain. To minimize the damage to her career, they decided to have the babies one after the other in consecutive years and so came their next daughter in the next year. By then, already at home for over 2 years, Sujata felt that her talent was being wasted. She could not take the burden of home and family and sacrifice her own professional aspirations, while her husband went out to work like before and sought the fulfillment of his ambitions. She was not born to be a home-maker, a mere wife, mother and daughter-in-law and die one day being just that. She was an individual who had talents, ambitions, aspirations that were waiting for her. And she followed her career callings to London, with her two year old girl and one year old infant and their family maid. While Ashutosh, the understanding and loving husband that he was, supported her through her decision. “The physical parting meant nothing”, he said “we are united at heart and in our souls… and then how far is London anyway in this globalized world? You would be just a call away, connected with me the entire day over internet. And then we would ofcourse visit each other every six months”. The telephone calls that were initially a daily routine, became weekly and then fortnightly, and the six-monthly visits turned out to be only at Christmas vacations.
But now all distances would be obliterated. His wife had decided to quit her job and move-in with him in Bangalore. He would see them, each living day of his life. How he ached to hear the voices, to see the lovely faces of his daughters, to play with them, to give them rides over his shoulders, to tickle them and hear their rolling, squealing laughter. “Oh! But lots of work remains” he reminded himself. And quickly got some worksmen to paint the house, carefully choosing each colour, each texture for each of the rooms. Their bedroom would be all white with a pearl finish, for Sujata loved white. The common room would have metallic textured walls and for the kid’s room… well that would be special. He would get the ceiling painted black and get those moon and star stickers that glow at night. The walls would be painted green and yellow with cartoon characters. His younger one loved noddy and mickey, he vividly remembered how she had narrated one of the hilarious noddy stories to him, on their trip to India, last Christmas. Having decided the colour of the walls, he chose matching drapes and curtains, bed sheets and covers. He decided on bunker beds for the kids, but what if one of them rolls over and falls at night? No… he would go for the individual low-height beds and then fancy study tables and book racks for each one. Finally, after 2 sleepless nights, the home was ready. He went around each room and admired it with the eye of a critic, the eye of a loving husband, the eye of a tender father, the eye of a family man… and everything looked perfect. He smiled the smile of perfection, the smile of satisfaction.
That evening as he had his dinner alone at the dining table, he told himself, not anymore. This would be his last meal alone. The next dinner he would have with his family and the thought gave him immense happiness. He finished his meager dinner, appetite being eaten away by excitement, he went off to sleep. At midnight, the phone rang and he was surprised to hear his wife, wasn’t it the time to board the flight? His mind was whirling and it was difficult for him to remain standing at one place, as he heard his wife break the news. He slowly started pacing up and down the entire house. Today, when she had gone to bid good-bye to her boss, her boss had come-up with a surprise offer. He offered her the complete responsibility of their company’s upcoming Australian operations. With double her current salary, all relocation expenses being taken care off, and a huge responsibility, the offer was something she couldn’t refuse. And the kids would also have the best of opportunities in Australia. After giving it much thought, she had decided to take it up and she would have to fly down to Australia next week, which meant not only her relocation to India stood cancelled, but that they would not even make the trip to visit him.
He did not utter a word all through the conversation. He was pacing up and down the house at a furious speed. He was angry, furious at his wife for having taken such a decision without consulting him and at her obstinacy to actually announce it to him. He was furious at her boss to have made that offer. But he did not want the anger to show in his voice, lest her wife would mistake it for his insecurity. He was sad, sad beyond the point where tears could give him any comfort. Sad that all his hopes were shattered, that he would not see his family soon, he would not be able to play with his children, his children would probably not even know what it was to live with a father. But he could not let his sorrow show in his voice, lest his wife would think him insensitive and selfish, not happy for her at her big success. But beyond all this, he was hurt. Hurt to sense the indifference in his wife’s voice and attitude, hurt with her casual approach, hurt with the distances that had grown not only between their daily existence, but between their hearts too. Hurt because his marriage was collapsing, his family was disintegrating, the distances between them was widening each day into a void, the depth of which, even he did not dare assess. Hurt, because he was a bachelor again, fumbling with the keys to open the door to his apartment each day, cooking and eating his meal alone in solitude each night. Hurt because the accursed silence would again buzz into his ears… but he dared not share it with his wife. For she would perhaps not understand if he said it, she perhaps did not even understand what he did not say…
He sunk on the little bed that he had got for his younger one and laid there still, staring at the ceiling. The stars glowed in the dark, like in a clear starry night sky. But there was another twinkle in the room, perhaps that of the lone tear drop that glistened with the light of the stars.
Note: Sorry! It got too long... and I don't know what to edit. :-( Please bear with it. :-)
He called up his office and excused himself for 2 days, feigning illness that was not even remotely evident from his happy, ringing voice. They were to reach home by Saturday evening and it was already midweek. The house needed renovation, some drapes, some furnishing, to make it livable for a family. In all his five years of forced bachelorhood, he had not seen his apartment as anything more than a bed to sleep after a tiresome day at work. But now he would have a home. The word “home” for the first time evoked in him feelings indefinable... a strange sense of excitement, a strange longing, a sense of belonging that was beginning to associate itself with the sound of the word home. Finally, he would have a home to get back to. He would have someone open the doors for him when he rings the bell of his own house. He would not have to stare at the blank walls and wonder what to do if he came home early someday. He would not have to switch on the TV, to quieten the buzzing sound of silence in his own ears that had driven him mad many a times. Even the thought of all these lonesome days, made him elapse into a state of gloom, a reverie that was broken by the ringing telephone.
He answered the call. It was his wife, only to confirm the tentative programme schedule in her perfect manager-like fashion. She read out the complete schedule of their departure from London and arrival at Singapore and then the connecting flight to Bangalore. In the background, he could hear his six year old, quarrel with her elder sister for a doll and his heart melted with emotions that only his eyes could relate to. As for his wife, she was busy arranging the travel plans to notice the variations and vibrations in his voice. He assented to everything she said and at last as they were placing the receiver down, she muttered a “love you” in a hesitant, quiet voice, almost a whisper that made his senses tingle. It felt like they were saying this for the first time in all their 10 years of marriage. He managed to respond with a “love you too” that sounded just as mild, amidst the turmoil within him.
Ashutosh and Sujata had been married for a decade now. Theirs had been a love marriage, a love and courtship of more than 4 years that had resulted in their happy union with parent’s consent from both ends. They graduated together from ISBM, one of the reputed management institutes and joined the best software companies in Bangalore as managers. Three years of their life as a happily married couple, passed in a wink and to top that they found great success on the professional front. Both were advancing well in their careers. And then one day, they were blessed with a baby girl. Sujata had quit her job after the 7th month of pregnancy, when they both sat down and discussed the path her career would take thereafter. They both were clear that they wanted two kids and Sujata would have to sacrifice atleast 5 years if not more of her career in the bargain. To minimize the damage to her career, they decided to have the babies one after the other in consecutive years and so came their next daughter in the next year. By then, already at home for over 2 years, Sujata felt that her talent was being wasted. She could not take the burden of home and family and sacrifice her own professional aspirations, while her husband went out to work like before and sought the fulfillment of his ambitions. She was not born to be a home-maker, a mere wife, mother and daughter-in-law and die one day being just that. She was an individual who had talents, ambitions, aspirations that were waiting for her. And she followed her career callings to London, with her two year old girl and one year old infant and their family maid. While Ashutosh, the understanding and loving husband that he was, supported her through her decision. “The physical parting meant nothing”, he said “we are united at heart and in our souls… and then how far is London anyway in this globalized world? You would be just a call away, connected with me the entire day over internet. And then we would ofcourse visit each other every six months”. The telephone calls that were initially a daily routine, became weekly and then fortnightly, and the six-monthly visits turned out to be only at Christmas vacations.
But now all distances would be obliterated. His wife had decided to quit her job and move-in with him in Bangalore. He would see them, each living day of his life. How he ached to hear the voices, to see the lovely faces of his daughters, to play with them, to give them rides over his shoulders, to tickle them and hear their rolling, squealing laughter. “Oh! But lots of work remains” he reminded himself. And quickly got some worksmen to paint the house, carefully choosing each colour, each texture for each of the rooms. Their bedroom would be all white with a pearl finish, for Sujata loved white. The common room would have metallic textured walls and for the kid’s room… well that would be special. He would get the ceiling painted black and get those moon and star stickers that glow at night. The walls would be painted green and yellow with cartoon characters. His younger one loved noddy and mickey, he vividly remembered how she had narrated one of the hilarious noddy stories to him, on their trip to India, last Christmas. Having decided the colour of the walls, he chose matching drapes and curtains, bed sheets and covers. He decided on bunker beds for the kids, but what if one of them rolls over and falls at night? No… he would go for the individual low-height beds and then fancy study tables and book racks for each one. Finally, after 2 sleepless nights, the home was ready. He went around each room and admired it with the eye of a critic, the eye of a loving husband, the eye of a tender father, the eye of a family man… and everything looked perfect. He smiled the smile of perfection, the smile of satisfaction.
That evening as he had his dinner alone at the dining table, he told himself, not anymore. This would be his last meal alone. The next dinner he would have with his family and the thought gave him immense happiness. He finished his meager dinner, appetite being eaten away by excitement, he went off to sleep. At midnight, the phone rang and he was surprised to hear his wife, wasn’t it the time to board the flight? His mind was whirling and it was difficult for him to remain standing at one place, as he heard his wife break the news. He slowly started pacing up and down the entire house. Today, when she had gone to bid good-bye to her boss, her boss had come-up with a surprise offer. He offered her the complete responsibility of their company’s upcoming Australian operations. With double her current salary, all relocation expenses being taken care off, and a huge responsibility, the offer was something she couldn’t refuse. And the kids would also have the best of opportunities in Australia. After giving it much thought, she had decided to take it up and she would have to fly down to Australia next week, which meant not only her relocation to India stood cancelled, but that they would not even make the trip to visit him.
He did not utter a word all through the conversation. He was pacing up and down the house at a furious speed. He was angry, furious at his wife for having taken such a decision without consulting him and at her obstinacy to actually announce it to him. He was furious at her boss to have made that offer. But he did not want the anger to show in his voice, lest her wife would mistake it for his insecurity. He was sad, sad beyond the point where tears could give him any comfort. Sad that all his hopes were shattered, that he would not see his family soon, he would not be able to play with his children, his children would probably not even know what it was to live with a father. But he could not let his sorrow show in his voice, lest his wife would think him insensitive and selfish, not happy for her at her big success. But beyond all this, he was hurt. Hurt to sense the indifference in his wife’s voice and attitude, hurt with her casual approach, hurt with the distances that had grown not only between their daily existence, but between their hearts too. Hurt because his marriage was collapsing, his family was disintegrating, the distances between them was widening each day into a void, the depth of which, even he did not dare assess. Hurt, because he was a bachelor again, fumbling with the keys to open the door to his apartment each day, cooking and eating his meal alone in solitude each night. Hurt because the accursed silence would again buzz into his ears… but he dared not share it with his wife. For she would perhaps not understand if he said it, she perhaps did not even understand what he did not say…
He sunk on the little bed that he had got for his younger one and laid there still, staring at the ceiling. The stars glowed in the dark, like in a clear starry night sky. But there was another twinkle in the room, perhaps that of the lone tear drop that glistened with the light of the stars.
Note: Sorry! It got too long... and I don't know what to edit. :-( Please bear with it. :-)
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