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The random people on the street have more in common than them. How ironic is that? Yet, they are forced to endure those differences, by the law, by the people around them, by their well-wishers, by their parents. However, they would rather blissfully forgive their hypocrisy, if they do not want to be together. What defines this bond, that which pulls the strings of their conscience, but does not touch their hearts? Day after day, to kill a part of you, yet, unaware of the murder that is being committed. No wonder, when the time comes for the certainty, we are all unprepared. And no wonder the eventuality is assumed as a certainty. Perhaps, when one could have some integrity in their thoughts, world would seem so much better. One redeeming quality, is that too much to ask of oneself?
Every day, dreaming of monsters, loving and hating them at the same time, but still closing the eyes every single night in the hope of getting a fitful sleep; hoping that the monsters would not come to torment us, at the same time, hoping that they do and perhaps, push us into oblivion. What is it with people? Who welcome the torment and embrace it? What is it in pain that pushes people to seek it? Is it because the pain would perhaps be seen as a sacrifice? That the sacrifice we make to bear that pain is our choice of accepting it, hoping to be a martyr! We could choose to not live the pain, for it is in us to stop it and walk away. We all believe that, just as we believe that the sun rises in the East. We believe that we are the masters of our destiny. How foolish can we be? If we are the masters of our lives, then why seek a higher conscience to look up to? If we are the masters of our lives, why think of fate and destiny?
We smile at a passing stranger and frown at a loved one. We seek to love dispassionate people, hoping to ignite hidden passions. We love and hate, scoff and scorn, ridicule and spare - why is it that the human nature requires this chivalry for every thought that fool of a brain can think? Passion is craved, despite knowing that it is not freely available in the market. Craving for something that is out of reach is also human nature. For some reason, the journey towards a destination filled with thorns and fire is fascinating, perhaps, because we seek, in some hidden way to be heroes, super-heroes, if only for a single person.
Anna continued to struggle with her thoughts, trying to find some way of dealing with her frustrations. She looked at the clock, wearily, noting that in about another hour, she would be that stranger, whom she did not recognize in the mirror. She sighed. She looked around the house, the four walls that subdued her to a mere reflection of the inner most fears she had, when she got married. Her husband is not bad, it is just that she was unable to be good. She was having hard time, trying to cope up with the changes that were demanded of her. It was like her life changed continuously, from one moment to another, demanding more and more and more. She gave in to those changes initially and with zeal. She gave in to those changes a little conspicuously, as time progressed. And now, she felt that the change is the only thing that defined her, being stretched from one charade to another with alarming regularity. Just as the baton gets passed on the dining room table of a crowded army, she was being passed, from one role to another to another. Once being a working wife, then a new in-law, then a new mother to an old wife, to an old in-law, to a new-mother of a teenage son, to a house wife, to a neighbor, to a daughter. How many roles can she play?
She wondered, what right, people had, to influence her mind, into thinking that she had to live for the sole purpose of making her life worthy, by being this obedient wife, daughter, mother, in-law. The girl in her, craved for something more, which she could not explain to people. She had the yearning for him, just, she was not completely happy with that yearning. It was not like her heart flutters at the mere look of him. It was a long time, since her heart sang for him. She was tired of living together. Agreed, that the silence is comfortable between them. Agreed that he is conscious of her every move. But that just does not seem to be sufficient for her. She wondered, had she not been married, would her life be different?
She reflected that she would miss her son dearly. He was a spitting image of his father, the reflection of her love she once felt. The gooey attachment that sprung from being too intimate, the feverish spasms of breath, the tingling in the pit of her stomach, the longing to be home to be in his arms, the subtle flirting in the restaurants, the coy smile she held for his-eyes-only, the late night long drives, the content to just be in his arms on one of those irritating days, knowing that the world could come to an end, but she would still be safe in his arms. Gosh, she reflected on those moments, trying to find some semblance of that emotion in her. But she found herself dispassionately flipping through the images that once choked her heart. When did it happen, this bereavement? And most importantly, why? She wondered, if he noticed the indifference in her. Did he even wonder why she was quiet most of the time? Did he even wonder why she has a perpetual frown on her face? Did he even wonder why she seemed to be lost in thought, most of the time? Did he notice her slipping out of bed in the middle of the night, to sit with a book? She sighed. It was asking too much, to expect things from him. He is the one who puts food on the table, he is entitled to have a relatively peaceful day, without having to worry about her needs and desires. She had no right to be demand something from him, for he provides for her and her family. She laughed mirthlessly at this thought. How easily had she converted him into a pay check? She saw him as a golden goose for her family. The sardonic smile on her face was almost sad. What monster has inhabited her, to think such vile thoughts? To hold such contempt towards her better half? Despite her self-rebuke at the thoughts, she thought, why does she not have the right to voice her needs or desires. She is working as much as he does, perhaps not in earning bread and butter, but it is not easy to maintain the house and the kid, to handle the tantrums of the kid, to ensure that he studies while she is busy putting a meal together, to pay the bills, to shop for groceries, to be there for your in-laws, to be there for your son, the parent-teacher conferences, the neighborly bonding. Friends long forgotten, dreams long forgotten, as daughter - inexistent, as a lover - an act. It has been a while since she thought of herself. She did not even buy a new dress in a long time. Just because she stays in the house, did not mean she did not deserve the occasional gifts. She sighed, her eyes filling with tears, at the mere helplessness of the thought that she could not go out and buy herself a damn dress. Oh, she had money. He surrendered fifty percent of his monthly pay checks to do as she pleases. But she never used that money for anything other than the family expenses. She could not quite commit herself to using that hard earned money for some frivolous expense. What need did she have to be frivolous? She realized that she was being unreasonable, though she could not quite put a finger to that detachment. She brushed the horrid tears from her eyes and tried to steady herself. She looked at the watch and noticed that she had another half hour to make herself presentable to her husband. She vowed that he would never get to know the monstrosity in her mind.
She took the pain of swallowing the lump in her throat and dressed herself to look decent and tried to smile. She succeeded with some effort. She was not worried that he would notice. That might have been once, not now, when his career is blossoming and he has little time to make an effort to understand her. She sighed again. She hated that she should be part of a celebration that is a painful reminder of her pitiful condition. The anniversary, she mused. When was the last time she took real interest in any of the occasions? The last time that she remembered was their second anniversary. If she has to be honest, that was the only year she felt special. Now, after fifteen years of marriage with her son in his teenage and her husband's career prospects looking promising, she had no reason to be unhappy. Yet, she was and she had no idea how to overcome that. She briefly contemplated suicide and rejected it immediately. If she had the guts to commit a suicide, she had the guts to pick the shreds of her life and make it what she wanted it to be, rather than morosely reflecting on the past and letting the dejection take over her. Her heart protested that the future life is too difficult to fathom. She got up slowly, not quite understanding what she intends to do, when she heard the front door open. She saw him walk through the door with a bouquet in one hand and his lips curved into a smile that sparkled. She saw the Adonis that he was as she returned his smile, a reflex she developed over the years, easily slipping into the charade of a wife. It was unnerving, this transformation, she thought.
He hugged her and took a deep breath, breathing her scent in.
"Happy Anniversary, pretty wife. I love your perfume and I love you", he said, hugging her tightly.
Was that a compliment she heard?, she thought.
"Happy Anniversary dear husband. You look handsome too", she smiled.
He pushed her a little away, holding her at arm's length, subtly observing her.
"Are you alright?", he asked.
She nodded. He looked into her eyes and she wondered if he could read the thoughts running in her mind. Of course, he could not. He stared a minute longer and asked, "Did you cry?"
The tears threatened to well up again, but she refused to show any weakness to him. "Why in the world will I cry?", she asked, in mock incredulity.
She continued to hold his gaze steadily. He looked at her a while longer and asked if she was ready to head out. She gave a radiant smile and nodded. He looked at her a while longer, wondering how to explain the deadbolt in his heart. He knew something was wrong, but he could not put a finger on it. He had observed his light-hearted and warm wife turn into a cold companion, who struggled to pretend that all the things were alright. He waited too long to decide that he needed to confront her and get it all out of her system. He waited too long, after deciding that it was too long and the rift just grew to a boundary, around her. He did not know what else he could do. He let her be, giving her the time and the freedom, slowly knowing that she was slipping away. The sand need not just slip from the closed fist, an unstable hand can throw the sand around. Their relation became unstable and they were both of being scattered. And he did not know how to steady the hand or the relation and he doubted if she did. She looked tired, he noted. He is tired too. Of waiting for long, too long, hoping that she would let him help her overcome that pain in her.
He held her close to his heart, content on holding her, content on providing that warmth to her, hoping that it would be sufficient to soothe her pain, whatever it was. There was a time, when that was sufficient to make her feel elated. Now, he was not so sure. He pressed his lips on her hair, whispering "I am here for you". She could not bring herself to understand his words. It negates her emotions, that the changes in her were unnoticed by him, that the passion between them had dried up a long time ago. She could not come to terms with the feelings running through her. She was baffled by them. Is this why the relations last, for that momentary comfort offered on some fortunate day? Life does not change overnight and tomorrow would be another day, her thoughts pushing her through the hilt and her heart snapping at everything. For now, though, the comfort did soothe her raging heart and she suddenly realized that she missed that warmth of him, that embrace around her over the past few days, or was it years? Perhaps, the hug meant a little more today, because she was hoping to hold onto some sanity and his warmth gave that line to her. She pushed her thoughts aside, brought her hands around him and snuggled closer, holding him, taking the comfort and offering assurance. Whatever tomorrow holds, she had today.
She released him and they walked together to the door, both with heavy hearts, yet with smiles on their faces and the charade continued. People become attached to their burdens sometimes more than the burdens are attached to them. Martyrs are walking around us, every single day. Why are Oscars most coveted? Oscars are easy to find in the lives of every common man! "I only dread one day at a time", she mused.
