by Sudha Nair
The month of March crept up slowly on Meera. It was her daughter Beena’s birthday and it was also the week that Ramesh had passed away a year ago. The celebratory mood at Beena’s birthday was tinged with memories of Ramesh’s last days, the vacant look in his eyes, his frail, dying body disintegrating before her own eyes as he succumbed to lung cancer.
Bile rose so sharply to her throat at the memory that she had to clamp her mouth. She wound into a ball and reposed on the sofa, quietly wishing that the slate of her life were wiped clean, the events from the year before wished away like a bad dream.
“Are you sick, ma?” Beena asked, entering the room after the cartoon had ended.
Meera put on a smile for Beena’s sake. “Didn’t sleep well last night. Had a few drawings to finish,” she said. The illustrations for children’s books and magazines kept her mind occupied. Work was her saviour.
“When are Saina aunty and Vivek uncle coming?”
“Read something for a while. They will be here soon.”
Beena wandered off, twirling a couple of times, an unmasked display of her girlish joy. Of-late the frequent queries about her father had reduced. Papa has gone to God’s office, Meera had told her five-year-old and that reason had been sufficient for now.
Dusk had set in, the sky had turned a mellow azure from where Meera lay, still crumbled on the sofa in her blue-gray checkered slacks and an old gray t-shirt that had seen better days. She should change into a mini-celebration worthy attire. She pulled herself up and trudged to the bedroom. She picked out a comfortable blue salwar kurta and put it on. She plonked on the bed exhausted by the effort. A glimpse of the poking end of a frame hidden behind the stack of neatly folded clothes in her cupboard, of a photo of her fairy tale beach wedding in Goa now brought back a painful remembrance.
She had been the love of his life, his girlfriend from the age of sixteen, his college sweetheart. They made a handsome pair. Then there was the wedding, the pride at Beena’s birth. And then one day all the happiness that surrounded Meera’s life had come crashing like a tumbling stack of cards. She had no time to prepare herself, to fulfil last wishes, even to say a proper goodbye. In a matter of three weeks since the shocking diagnosis, he was gone.
It took weeks to enter his room, clean it up, give away his belongings to charity. It was while clearing out his underwear drawer that she had found the love note addressed to Ramesh. A staggering pain, so sharp and numbing, pierced her, as if someone had quickly twisted a knife in and out of her heart, tearing it into a thousand shreds.
She found no plausible answers to the whys that plagued her. The discovery consumed her but she had told no-one about it. Now all that was left in her was simmering pain laced with bitterness, a disdain for the past she wished she had never known. She reasoned that withholding that pain, cramming that secret within her was the only way to preserve her dignity even though she yearned to tell someone, to ease her heart of its misery.
The staccato sound of the doorbell interrupted her thoughts. Saina was the first to arrive, gushing over Beena in her predictably loud and husky voice. She was visiting Bangalore after a long theatre tour and had wanted to come especially for Beena’s birthday.
Beena bounced with excitement at the large gift box of milk chocolates that Saina gave her. She hugged and ushered her in. Saina had bought a simple pair of earrings with big white dangling flowers at the bottom for Meera. They hugged in long silence, Meera’s gallant yet futile attempts at cheer painfully evident to Saina, who knew Meera like no one else did.
Vivek came a little while after, his bulky frame filling up the doorway, his bright smile livening up the evening. He was late as usual from having to lock down the ceramic store that he owned. His apologetic shoulders perked up as soon as he spotted Beena. Scooping her up, he circled her about until she squealed, giggled, twisted and begged to be put down. Vivek had been Meera’s tower of strength during the difficult months, taking care of Ramesh’s funeral arrangements, all the paperwork, and most importantly, Beena.
They sat down to a simple dinner of chicken curry and rice that Meera had cooked, their loud laughs and noisy banter making it seem like a big party. Nobody brought up Ramesh. Saina flirted with Vivek as she always did whenever she met him, which was not that often because of her constant tours. Snuggling next to him, she smacked his hand when he teased her, babbled on about her latest gig in Delhi, gurgled at his jokes, preened at his compliments, and did all sorts of flirty things. Nothing had ever come of her flirting in the past and Meera knew that Saina wasn’t serious. Vivek enjoyed teasing Saina too, laughing with and at her. It was just like the good old times when Ramesh was around.
Soon Beena was sleepy, and wanted Vivek to read her a bedtime story. Saina helped Meera clean up while Vivek read until Beena dozed off curled up in his lap. Vivek lifted Beena and followed Meera into the bedroom. She watched him lay Beena down carefully on the bed, pull the blanket up to her chin and gently pat her sleeping head. When his gaze shifted from Beena’s face to Meera’s, the doting tenderness in his eyes felt surreal for a moment. Tears welled up in her eyes.
Later the three settled on the porch with glasses and a bottle of wine. An old mango tree secluded the porch area, the soft breeze making the shadows of its leaves flicker under the porch light. Vivek sat on the swing hung under the tree. Meera sprawled on the easy chair, a little lost in her thoughts. Saina slid in beside Vivek on the swing. There was a nip in the air. She inched closer.
Blinking fireflies circled around the faded glow of the porch light. They all sit in silence for a while, enjoying the breeze and the buzz from the wine. Vivek and Saina spoke of the parties Meera hosted years ago. They laughed over the time when Ramesh was so drunk he practically tried to climb the mango tree. Meera was quiet.
Saina rested her head on Vivek’s shoulders, reminiscing. “It would have been fun to have Ramesh here today,” she said, lacing her fingers through his.
Meera saw the two seated on the swing, their fingers entwined and was transported to an intimate moment she had shared with Ramesh on that swing. Something inside her stirred but snapped at that recall. The feelings she had sealed within her desperately for months, came tumbling out uncontrollably like wool unspooling from a fast rolling ball of yarn.
“Bastard!” she exclaimed out of the blue.
“What?”
“Ramesh was having an affair.”
Saina and Vivek exchanged shocked glances.
“I found a blasted love note in his underwear drawer.”
Meera had torn that note into shreds but the memory of that day could never be obliterated. She had failed to hide that secret. Her friends would pity her even more than before. She lowered her head into her hands and began to sob.
“I thought our marriage meant more,” she said. “Love and trust and all of that. It doesn’t mean anything now.” She started to hiccup.
Vivek went in to the kitchen and returned with a glass of water. Meera reached out for the wine bottle.
“Meera, I think you’ve had too much to drink already.” Saina pulled the bottle away and set it on the floor away from reach.
“I only wish I’d known sooner,” Meera said.
“It must have been a mistake. Ramesh is no longer with us. It doesn’t matter now, Meera.” Saina had meant to console her.
But Meera snapped at her. “Is that what you think, Saina? You think it doesn’t matter? What would you know about love?”
Saina flinched. This was a Meera she had never seen before, her eyes red and disconsolate, her body shaking uncontrollably.
“I thought I could trust love over lust,” Meera continued in anguish. The hiccups became louder.
Vivek was by her side in minutes, offering her water, cradling her to his hips. This was the closest he had ever come to touching her. There was something about the way Vivek handled the situation that Saina felt no reason to stay back too. She muttered something about checking on Beena and left unobtrusively.
“I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry,” Meera said, still sobbing. Saina had already left.
Vivek and Meera were alone. He skimmed his palm over her head. “There’s no reason to be,” he said.
Meera hugged him tight, her sobs trailing off into heavy heaves. Vivek continued to caress her gently. They remained embraced under the flickering shadows of the mango tree.
Pic from https://www.flickr.com/photos/
