Another Valentine’s Day
I love the feel of ice cold raindrops falling on my already numb cold face. It does not pain, instead it makes me believe that I am alive, that the pain has not yet killed me. My resilience is measured by the amount of time I hold my face towards the sky. I was winning, when suddenly my maid’s screams broke my reverie and I dashed towards my room.
Shanti pointed towards a dirty boxers moving on its own and we screamed in unison. Suddenly, a mouse emerged from the boxers and scooted towards the cupboard. I laughed at my stupidity and scolded Shanti for her foolishness. She was abashed and ran off to the kitchen screaming, “Saab and his dirty laundries, I am telling you memsaab I will get a heart attack someday.”
I laughed wearily and stared at the boxers crumpled at the corner where the mouse had abandoned it. It has been a week since Raj has left, a week since I have entered our bedroom, a week since I had a tearless night and a week since I had lost his smell in the house. I can’t deal with it today as well, today of all the days, the day when it all started.
We were college sweethearts, a perfect couple, even our names synced up well. I so thanked my parents for naming me Simran. Love blossomed like the flowers of spring, taking us to a new high of cloud nine romances. Marriage followed and soon problems flourished like the weeds in a garden. I realized I had married a different man, a man of fineries, a man who loves a good life, good wine, good dopes, good girls, good beatings and every other vice that is good.
Nobody believed me and some still don’t. My in-laws and parents disowned me for spreading rumors. My friends hated me for being a bitch. I, however, stood my ground. He had to go and had to go, no matter what people said. It’s been a week since I threw him out of the house and his dirty boxers are the reminder of how dirty my life had been.
Shanti broke my reverie again.
“Memsaab, it’s ok, forgive saab, men are like that. All are the same. A woman needs the security of a man in her life. You cannot live all alone.”
I gave her a dry smile. How would she know what education does to an independent woman.
She gave me a concerned look, but did not push the matter further.
“There aren’t any onions at home, do you want your omelet without onions,” asked Shanti.
“No, I am going out and would get a kilo, wait till I come back.”
“Memsaab, take the umbrella along, you will get drenched,” screamed Shanti after me. But, I was already on the road by then, mingling my tears with the raindrops on my face. Rain they say is the perfect place to hide your tears!
Shanti pointed towards a dirty boxers moving on its own and we screamed in unison. Suddenly, a mouse emerged from the boxers and scooted towards the cupboard. I laughed at my stupidity and scolded Shanti for her foolishness. She was abashed and ran off to the kitchen screaming, “Saab and his dirty laundries, I am telling you memsaab I will get a heart attack someday.”
I laughed wearily and stared at the boxers crumpled at the corner where the mouse had abandoned it. It has been a week since Raj has left, a week since I have entered our bedroom, a week since I had a tearless night and a week since I had lost his smell in the house. I can’t deal with it today as well, today of all the days, the day when it all started.
We were college sweethearts, a perfect couple, even our names synced up well. I so thanked my parents for naming me Simran. Love blossomed like the flowers of spring, taking us to a new high of cloud nine romances. Marriage followed and soon problems flourished like the weeds in a garden. I realized I had married a different man, a man of fineries, a man who loves a good life, good wine, good dopes, good girls, good beatings and every other vice that is good.
Nobody believed me and some still don’t. My in-laws and parents disowned me for spreading rumors. My friends hated me for being a bitch. I, however, stood my ground. He had to go and had to go, no matter what people said. It’s been a week since I threw him out of the house and his dirty boxers are the reminder of how dirty my life had been.
Shanti broke my reverie again.
“Memsaab, it’s ok, forgive saab, men are like that. All are the same. A woman needs the security of a man in her life. You cannot live all alone.”
I gave her a dry smile. How would she know what education does to an independent woman.
She gave me a concerned look, but did not push the matter further.
“There aren’t any onions at home, do you want your omelet without onions,” asked Shanti.
“No, I am going out and would get a kilo, wait till I come back.”
“Memsaab, take the umbrella along, you will get drenched,” screamed Shanti after me. But, I was already on the road by then, mingling my tears with the raindrops on my face. Rain they say is the perfect place to hide your tears!
Comments
Post a Comment