Eternal Spring in her heart

DISCLAIMER: This is a fictional story. All the characters are fictional. The incident itself is a creation. Any resemblance to people or to the situations in the real world, is purely coincidental.

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Meg was staring deep into the night that grew darker by the minute. The dark seems to grow onto her, pushing her into the deeper realms of a restless night and a dreading slumber of thoughts. The numbness of her decision finally sunk in and the reality caught her off guard. “You need to take this decision eventually, what difference would it make, if it is now or a year from now?”, her conscience probed. She delved deeper into her thoughts, figuring out the paths to tread, yet, every path seems to be filled with thorns. She feared none of those, just her heart, which seems to dread the doom she is willing to walk into. With a restless mind and a strangled voice inside her, she sunk deeper under the covers and closed her eyes, tears trickling down from the corner of her eyes.

“Stop”, she commanded, yet the tears did not stop. “Get a grip, this is your choice”, she told herself unsuccessfully. She laid awake, eyes open, staring at the darkness before her eyes and as the night slid into the dawn, she carefully breathed in and out, calming herself and trying not to think about the magnanimity of the task ahead. She could hear the voices outside her room, chattering and as the day unfolded, she lay awake, mute to the growing lead in her heart. The house was a buzz of activity. People everywhere, lights everywhere, just her room was empty and quiet. She relished the moment’s tranquility. This might perhaps be the last day she could enjoy this solitude, in her own space, her space. There might not be anything that she could call as ‘mine’ and feel the pride of it any longer. Any moment now…

She heard the careful opening of her door and she could hear footsteps.
“You need to get up”, her mom said, rocking her gently. She sighed silently and took a deep breath and popped her head from under the mattress.
“Congratulations! You are about to begin a new life today”, her mom said. She smiled and sat up. Her grandmother walked in with tears in her eyes.
“Oh, God, this is it, it is really happening”, she thought. She got up and hugged her granny and without looking at anyone, went into the bathroom.

By the time she was out, the house was uproar of activity. The chatter fell like a stroke of hammer on her head, the noise nauseating. She looked around her room, the memoirs of friendships shared, her career graph, her diaries where her personal thoughts were jotted in moments of harmony and restlessness, her bed stuffed with soft toys. This room epitomized ‘her’ in every word. There was no space for another in this room, every one is an invited guest and none a master of this room, except her. She opened her cub board and fondly touched her books, looking at them longing to get hold of one and settle down on her bed. But that will have to wait, she admonished herself. Then a quiet voice reminded gently, that she might never find time for her books. The unsettling in her pit took a new level at that thought. She closed the door and walked into the living room and heard her aunt say, “here comes the bride!!”.

She stood there awkwardly, waiting for someone to tell her what she had to do. She needed caffeine in her system, but she could not eat today, their customs deciding that for her, the bride should eat the first morsel of food with her husband, from the half that he had to offer. The atmosphere had a strange sense of weight in it. It seemed like everyone was happy, yet unhappy. She looked around, her eyes searching for her father, knowing that this is as difficult for him as it is for her. He was the only man she knew and from today, the fate’s iconic irony, a man who did not know her for twenty five years of her life will share her life for the next thirty years, perhaps, deciding for her, the choices she had to make. She cannot pout as she did with her father, she cannot argue or put forth a point without the fear that she might be misunderstood. She found him in the kitchen talking to her mom. She walked to him, held his hand and stood closer. Though the emotions were threatening to come out, she stood quietly, trying to share their happiness. He took her closer to him and kissed her softly on her head. They stood there silently for a few moments, in the rare privacy of the day. The bear hug reassuring, yet reminding her that this would never be the same again, making her wonder, would she ever feel the same strength in the reassurance ever, from anyone. Would the person she is marrying carry the same amount of love for her? Would he be capable of reassuring her? She is independent, but that was with the strength that she walked back to the familiar four walls every night and the comfort of her space giving her solace and confidence. Now, she is moving to a new territory, will she be confident of her step? Will she falter? Will he hold and steady her and correct her, if need be? Will he give her the silent treatment if she did something wrong? Or will he fight it out and argue his point and listen to hers and before the end of the day, conclude on a common ground and begin the next day with a new outset, rather than carry the grudge of the previous day? Her fears are basically because of moving to a new territory. It is not like some technology, where she could read and learn and practice and couple of wrong things, the max that would go wrong is a day’s effort. She could relearn and try something different, but if things went wrong in her marriage, she will regret for life, altering her and his life, rocking it to a storm and killing them both. She saw enough couples who did not settle the tiffs and let the relation turn sour and poisonous, eventually killing the love between them. What if?

She let go of her father’s hand and stood there, quietly. Her mom was asking her if she needed coffee. She looked at her, the rock she had been and wondered if she would ever be such a good mom to her kids. She saw her mom glancing at her father and he let himself out of the kitchen quietly.
“Are you alright?”, her mom asked.
Am I alright, she thought.
“My life is taking on a course from which there is no return, the new twist offering no promise or clue as to how it would be. There is no crash course anywhere that teaches me what to expect going forward and there certainly is no time to psyche myself up. Yes, as a girl, I should have psyched myself from when my friends started having boy friends, but I was too busy studying and making grades that I did not have time to understand the nuances of entertaining a guy in my life. When my friends were getting married, I was too busy slogging my ass to keep the job I had. And now, I am standing here, with less than a day of normal life and you ask me if I am alright, so what should I say?” she mulled over the question and gave a silent nod and moved out. Her room was filled with people, each talking to one and all, about the saree they would be wearing, their jewellery - typical woman talk.

She was having hard time finding peace, within her and outside her world. The clock kept ticking, the day progressed. Her mind took a leave for the day and her heart was working over time and the ramifications of the task ahead seem to trouble her more than she cared to comprehend. And all of a sudden everything seemed quiet. Someone was pulling her, she walked like a zombie into the room. She was asked to wear a saree and to get moving, that the things are supposed to move on. She wore her saree and walked out and could see her friends in conversation with her mother. They looked at her and broke into smiles and each took turn of giving her a warm squeeze, wishing her congratulations. Everyone seems to be happy, but her heart was singing a different tune and she could not share the happiness. She was too weighed by the prospect of the day that she had hard time focusing on anything. Someone was doing a make over of her, and someone was painting her nails. It looked like everyone decided to give her their own brand of torture and she was the scapegoat and the entire house, a slaughter house.

After what looked like two hours of painful crucification, she was pushed out of the house and into the car. As though the weight of the task was insufficient, her saree and the gold that adorned her, weighed her down even more. She did not bother looking at herself. She knew that no matter what they did, they cannot find the beauty that would wash a guy off his feet, not today. Her friends were pulling her leg, each offering their share of experiences of the day. One of them held her hand and squeezed it softly. She looked at her, her expression speaking everything and nothing. A moment’s understanding and everyone suddenly seemed to understand the atmosphere and silence fell in the car. They reached the function hall and they all walked to the second floor that seemed to be the bride’s waiting room. There is no chance for tears now, she should will her heart to look forward and into the future. Not think of past, not think of the things that are shut in the locker of her heart, the things that are trying to find a creek from which they can surface. Today, of all the days, there cannot be any mistakes. There are too many things at stake. And above all, her parents happiness is at stake.

Pari, closed the door to her room and came close to her and gave her a hug.
“Asking if you are ok, would be stupid, so let me just say, if you want to cry, it is ok, we have the emergency face pack ready”, she tried a raw humour. A bubble of laughter escaped her lips and looking at her friend, Meg could only manage what can be considered a half-hearted chortle.
“There cannot be any mistakes today. I cannot afford another mess up, Pari, talk something, anything to keep my mind off the day ahead. I don’t want to think about it. I just want to get it over and done with”, she said.
Pari opened her bag and gave her a book and asked her to read it. Meg looked at the book and she took a deep breath and closed her eyes.
“Thankyou”, was all she mustered to say.
“Go ahead, read for a few minutes, there is still time”, Pari said.

Meg flipped through the pages, words relieving her mind of every thought and slowly chipping away the edginess she felt. A few minutes and she started feeling better, the silence giving enough grit to her determination of getting through the day without a tear being shed. There was a knock on the door and a couple of her friends walked in. Everyone knew what Meg was going through and stood as a rock behind her, every step of the way. Meg looked at them and smiled, letting them know that she was OK. And the room and the floor, started filling in, as her relatives started walking in. There was blaring music outside, and the bridegroom might have just arrived. Meg hugged herself closer and asked for the door to be shut. She took deep breaths, waiting for someone to call her. She waited like a prisoner waiting for her sentence and the wait seemed to last forever.

Things moved too fast for her comfort. It seemed like yesterday that her engagement was done and she did not even get her head around the concept of a guy, before her marriage date approached. She hardly had a chance to get comfortable with the guy, though she was happy to just be left by herself. The occasional calls from the guy were like mild strokes, producing perspiration and bursts of nervousness that she never knew existed. The calls were short and one sided. He took it that she was very shy and tried making her comfortable, albeit unsuccessfully. And today, twenty days from the day she got engaged, she is sitting in this room, on the other side of the wall, of his room and tried recollecting his name. It was not like her parents forced her into this, but she was tired waiting for the right guy or perhaps because of the understanding that there is no right guy, she conceded for the marriage. They did not force her, but that is what parents are adept at, to make their children do what they want them to do, without having to say anything. She could see the frail figures of her parents, raising the topic of marriage as though they were committing a cardinal sin. It hit her then, the unfairness of it all. Since when did she become intimidating to them? Since when did that wrench of aloofness slip in their relation? For God sake, she was their daughter, and then it dawned on her, that they waited for the right time, for her to come out of her cocoon. She asked them to look for a proposal, with the promise that the marriage would be as soon as possible. And that is how she was in this position, with no time to understand anything. Though she never rushed things, she felt she needed to rush this or she would chicken out and would never ever find a companion, if only for the heck of it. And now, she contemplated if that was right. The guy seemed to be alright. He seemed to be patient, witty and thoughtful. But aren’t all guys like that, until shit hits the fan?

The ceremony of marriage seemed to take forever. The wedding chants were unheard. Her father was giving her away, tears rolling down his cheeks and she could hardly control him. Then she sat next to her husband, her new position as his life partner. The guy proved his compassion, by asking if she was alright when she sat next to him. She nodded, managing a smile.

After the entire ceremony, during the photo shoot, he introduced his friends, who seemed to be appraising her, the girls in particular saying kindly that they looked good together. Meg wondered if it was true. She still needs to look at him.
“I know you are worried, but remember, we both are in the same boat and I share the same worries too”, he said quietly. She was startled to feel his breath so close to her. He seemed to have understood and took a tiny step further, nothing anyone would frown at, but enough to make her understand that he could understand her body language. They sat on the chairs arranged for them as her friends walked in a huddle and introduced themselves to him. Meg was getting worried that he might read too much into it, when Pari said, “We are not asking for a share of him, you could have just allowed us to warn him of the little hellion you are.”

He seemed to be rather amused by the idea and said, “I look forward to it. She seems to be a puzzle that I will never fully solve, but it helps to know the pieces to fit them together.”

“Oh, let me tell you a secret, all girls are puzzles that cannot be solved, but there is a small crypt that automatically solves all the puzzles, its called love”, she said, knowingly. Meg felt like kicking her and gave her a scowl. But he took it pretty well and said, “I will remember that and perhaps give you a chance to appraise me a couple of weeks from now, or rather, give you a chance to interrogate your friend and find out if I am the gentleman or not.” The realization of the private couple of weeks dawned in on Meg and she began twiddling her fingers nervously. Pari held her hand and gave him a smile and moved out of the way, when others introduced themselves and cracked a few jokes on Meg.

He noticed the nervousness in her and looked at her, trying to find out if something was wrong. She could feel his gaze on her and respectfully bent her head.

“Congratulations Meg”. She looked at the familiar voice and broke into a smile. She stood and introduced them, “My colleagues.” He shook hands with everyone. She noted that he stood almost immediately as soon as she stood and he mimicked her attitude, in terms of respect and cordiality with her colleagues. The gestures seem to rub a comfort she hadn’t felt in sometime. After a quick photo with all of them, they were left alone again.

“Meghana… it is a beautiful name.”, he said, trying to make an attempt to break the ice. She politely nodded. After a full minute of silence, she began wondering if she was supposed to say something.
“Do you know that I Love Maggie?”, he asked, knowing full well that her closest friends called her Maggie and perhaps she was reading too much into that simple sentence, but she felt he was saying that he loved her. For the first time, she looked at him and saw him giving a lopsided smile with a wicked glint in his eyes.
She heaved a sigh of relief and said, “thank god, I don’t have to worry about meals everyday.” A look of shock crossed his face and before he could recover she looked the other way, suppressing her smile at his reaction.

“That was the first time I saw you smile and it is beautiful”, he said. She bent down her head and murmured a thank you.
He could see her hands clenched into fists and could feel her raw nerves. He reached out to touch her hand tentatively. She was startled by the movement, but did not shrug them off. He let his hands linger longer and she gave him a glance through the corner of her eyes, knowing that the guy is looking at her. The empathetic gestures seem to speak a lot more than words could possibly conceive and the locker in her heart threatened to open, but now is not the time. There is a time for it!!!

He slowly removed his hand from hers and looked forward and she too looked forward. Unknowingly, both looked in the same direction, as though looking forward to the journey they are about to embark upon, each with apprehensions, but his confidence rubbed onto her and she felt better than what she felt, when she woke up that morning. His compassion created an eternal spring in her heart and gave hope to the unspoken promises…

The Beginning

This is a continuation of the fiction under the label: Meghana


"Abhinav Varma is his name.” She repeated that a thousand times, to fix it in her memory, lest someone should ask and she would embarrass God and company by being dumbfound or abashed at not knowing his name! She wondered if she could call him "Abhi", or probably not. Their families followed the customs of an eon-old, which went against calling husbands by their names. So, perhaps, she could not call him that. How sad would it be, to always address him, "dear" or "darling"? How can you convey that you are angry, when you are calling him, "dear"? She tried using her rude voice to match that sound and a ripple of laughter came out. She tried using her insolent tone with "dear" and she started giggling all of a sudden.

She was packing her suitcase for her private time with him, which every one called, honey-moon. She was good at repressing shuddering memories and this certainly is not something she wants to think about, at this moment. She was picking a few books, when her aunt walked into the room and exclaimed, "What do you need the books for?!!!"
She could hardly compose her expression from stark irritation to plain indifference, when she said, "I need the books. I cannot be without them for a couple of weeks."
Her aunt responded, "You are going on a honey moon, to have some private time with your husband, to get to know him. Perhaps he might not like it that you are spending time with books."
"I have a life time to get to know the person and even then, I am sure I would hardly understand him. And I am sure I would get a couple of hours a day to spend with my books", she countered. "And besides, books keep me sane", she continued.
"Fine, then pick a couple of books and no more", her aunt stared at her, making that pronouncement.

Meghana let out a sigh and took four books. Two in her hand bag, one in her hand and other in her baggage. Her flight is set to leave the next morning at nine and it was already eleven. She needs to catch her shut eye, though she doubted she could sleep.

The uproar in the house was close to that of a festival, with people from both the families trying to get to know each other, telling out family stories from their medieval times. She closed her baggage and locked it. They were going to Kerala and he specifically asked to pack a couple of jeans and couple of capris. She smiled at the memory of his hesitant way of asking if she had any! God, did he think she was the girl-next-door type? He should have asked if she had any ethnic wear that hesitantly. Boy, would he be in a shock! Perhaps, he should have asked and then, he would have gone into a shock and then, the trip could be postponed and she would be with her parents, she thought. Gah! What a dumb idea! This trip was his planning and she would get to see how efficient he is and she is already looking forward to see his taste. Very subtly, she hoped to see his romantic side as well.

"Oh!!!", she exclaimed. She suddenly remembered that she has not packed her laptop. Just when she was about to push that into the bag, there was a knock on the door.

"Come in", she said, working her way to putting that laptop in her bag and thinking that she will have to remove a few things and re-pack her baggage.
The door opened quietly and a voice said, "hi".
She turned very slowly, folding her hands behind and managed to greet him.
"I was wondering if you are alright and ready for tomorrow", he said. His tone is very soothing most of the times, she thought.
"Just about done, I need to re-pack, my laptop is not fitting in", she said.
"Laptop? Why would you want a laptop?", he asked, frowning.

She wondered if they are leaving the civilized world and entering some barbaric times to not need a laptop, but responded, "You know, just in case, to browse or watch movies or ...", she left the sentence hanging.
"We will have TV with cable connection, that would give us enough channels and I am pretty sure they have a DVD player to watch movies. Besides, there is no net in that place," he said.
She looked at him as though he pronounced her death sentence.

"I ... we ... we work twenty-four-seven with those laptops. I thought, it would be a good break to not have them with us", he stammered, bemused at her expression.

"Oh... that is alright. On the bright side, I don't have to re-pack", she said, in a subdued tone. She desperately wanted to ask, if she could get books or if he planned some activities that would pack the day and night of their stay, but held back.

"I have loads of DVDs. Perhaps you can look around the collection and select a few...", he trailed off looking at her expression and then added, almost pleadingly, "may be, you can tell me your preference and I can pick a few?"
"I trust your choice", was all she said.

He looked at her a minute longer and when she just stared back, he broke into a warm smile and said, "Goodnight, Mrs.Varma. Sleep tight. We will start at six in the morning."

That was the first time she realized that she is a "Mrs". That would take some time to get her head around and she fought the panic that started creeping into her and smiled pleasantly and said, "Goodnight, Mr.Varma. I shall be ready by six."

He left the room with a smile on his face, closing the door behind him. She had no idea what her words did to him. Hearing her say, "Mr.Varma", albeit as a jab, did arouse the pride in him. He is married and to the person he wanted to get married to.

She lay restless, thinking about the next day. She could hear voices outside and tried to think of them as a lullaby, putting her to sleep. She could not. She lay there, looking at the ceiling, counting the seconds in her mind. She inhaled and exhaled, concentrating on an even breath. She gave up the pretense of comfort and just sat on the bed, leaning against the headrest. As the clock ticked, she wondered if he was asleep. “Mrs. Varma”, she mused. She closed her eyes and let her mind drift. She woke with a start at the knock on the door and she saw her aunt walking in.
“Get up, you need to get ready”, she said. Meghana groaned, it was like a minute ago that she closed her eyes. She got up and got ready.

The knock on the door at six sharp and the voice that said, “Maggie, are you ready?”, made her quiver. He is punctual or perhaps, he too did not sleep. As he said earlier, he too shared the same worries. She walked out of her room, with the suitcase and he took it from her hands, ignoring her protests.
He staggered a bit and said, “I hope you did not pack a laptop and a TV in here”, he winked. She gave him a discomfited smile, when he lifted the suitcase as though it weighed nothing and walked further, amidst the delighted cousins and her aunt’s reply, “Only books, tons and tons of books” reaching her ears. He turned around and gave her a look that she could not quite fathom and did not even intend to. She stood a step behind him, waiting for him to lead. His cousins picked up the suitcases and took them outside, while other cousins stopped in front, blocking his way, hands outstretched. He gave an exasperated sigh and mumbled, “I am going to be bankrupt soon” and gave them a few bucks.

Meghana stood there, looking amused by all that was happening, when the small crowd zeroed in on her. She gave them a flabbergasted look and stood there, not knowing what to do.
“Go ahead, give them a ten, that should keep them off you”, he said. She looked at the notes in their hands and they had a bundle of hundreds in them. She did not have that kind of money at this moment, but, she did not want to back down. She looked at the youngest of the lot, the sweet little kid, kneeled next to her and gave her a kiss on her cheek and promised that she would get all of them something from their trip. But, for now, she took out a couple of five hundred notes and put them in their hands. The lot did not move. She stood there, helpless and looked at him. He let out a theatrical sigh and walked back to her and placed his hands around her shoulders and said, “Stop troubling my wife. We are on a schedule.”
The oldest of the lot, twelve year old Karthik, responded, “that is precisely why we are blocking. You either give us what we want or kiss your trip good-bye”, he said, threatening.
Abhinav looked as though he would strangle him and asked, “What exactly do you want?”
“Either she could give you a kiss or give me a kiss”, he responded, with a crooked smile, shocking Meghana.
She looked at him and she looked at Abhinav. Abhinav looked like he was about to explode into laughter and Karthik looked like he would just about roll on the floor. He winked at Abhinav and she was sure he was in this game. She stood her ground, while the little mob stood their ground and her husband gave up being composed and started laughing. After a couple of minutes, he started pushing her forward, but the little crowd held their place. Meghana cowered into her husband and let out a small sigh. She turned into his arms and looked at his eyes and gave him a light kiss on his cheeks. His eyes were as wide as saucers. When she stood next to him, he looked at her in shock and the claps and little murmurs around them left her blushing from head to toe. He recovered fast and hugged her closer and started walking towards the car. The car ride was quiet with polite conversation.

They got down at the airport and collected their boarding pass and started towards their gate. As they entered the security check, he saw the contents in her bag and gave a look of pure amusement. She could feel the blush coming on, but fought it and collected her bag and walked past the security guard and into the gate. They were seated in the flight, she took the window seat and he took the aisle. As soon as she settled, she did not wait for the stewardess instructions. She buckled her seat belt and flipped open the novel she brought with her. She did not stop to think if it was impertinent, this sort of behavior. All she could think of was her nerves and her thudding heart, that threatened to get out of her, any moment now. She desperately needed to get hold of her sanity.

Abhinav looked at her through the corner of his eyes. He waited till the take-off and made himself more comfortable, relaxing his seat to fall back at an angle where he could observe his wife. His lips twitching in the corner, he looked at the book. Some chick-lit by an author not known to him. He read a lot of books, but most of them were non-fiction and sometimes, purely business. Not that he had any aversion towards the fiction, just that there was never a need to indulge in fantasies and fiction, anchored by someone else's thoughts. But, looks like, he just found a reason, if only to have conversations with his wife that revolved not just about daily chores, but about something that would keep her interested in the conversation. Perhaps, she read serious fiction too, may be crime. He looked at her face. He could see her eyes moving through the page. The set of her mouth, the non-blinking of the eyes. He recognized that look, the state of mind, where one is engrossed in something and forgot the world around them. He saw her twitch her lips to form a smile – perhaps a joke. She flipped the page and already held the other page in her hand. He is familiar with that too, the anticipation of something significant that you want to breeze through the pages and find out what is going on. A signal to the mind to not wander, because, she wants to know what is happening and fast too. He saw her eyes rest on a page, her eyes blinking at a steady pace. She was thinking, perhaps something in the book triggered a thought. She let out a sigh and looked at the page bottom, perhaps noting down the page number and leaned back. Perhaps, she is absorbing the words and thinking about them. He wanted to ask, to know what made her think, but, he kept quiet. There would be a time to talk about those, he thought. He heard the stewardess approach with drinks.
“Juice, sir?”, she said.
“Apple juice, please”, he said.
“Ma’m?”
“Can I have a glass of water? Chilled?”, she said.
He maneuvered his seat to sit upright and looked at her.
“What is the book about?”, he asked, conversationally.
“It’s about a lot of things, but the theme is about a girl trying to find her place in the world. The author’s style is witty, funny yet thought provoking. The kind where you laugh, but then, there is something inside you that picks up the undertone and starts thinking, how would it be, if things were different. It’s quite interesting”, she said.
“Ok. So, you read a lot of books”, he said. A statement, rather than a question.
She smiled. He was falling for her again. The polite smile, when something was obvious, something that you do when you don’t want to call the other person a moron. He got that. He laughed. When she looked at him questioningly, he said, “Nothing. Just, to see that smile, I don’t mind making myself a moron.”
She narrowed her eyes and took a sip of water, wondering how in the world he figured that out!

She gulped down the remaining water and opened the book. He took that as a cue to be quiet. So, he leaned back in his seat and took his job of observing her very seriously. He could see that she is not into it, as much as she was before. Her focus is not there. He smiled, knowing that his focus on her is making her nervous. He closed his eyes and wondered how long it would take for her, to look at him. He was sure he could feel her eyes on him, just as she felt his eyes on her. Sure enough, she turned after a good five minutes and looked at him. He waited a few moments and knowing that she was still looking at him, he opened his eyes and caught her. She held his gaze for a moment before she turned her look away, flustered. Though he wanted to tease her, he held back his voice and just returned to willing her to look at him. This two hour flight journey is turning out to be entertaining, each trying to assess the other one. But, being the elder and more experienced, he is having an upper hand, so far. But, then, being young and smart, she might just outsmart him, if it is just words, he thought. He recollected the morning’s incident and thought, may be, she already won the first round of who is bold enough to express themselves in front of everyone. Man, that was a shocker! His wife made a statement with that act. “I am a little hellion. You better watch out”, it seemed to say. And while he was lost in that challenge, the announcement that they were about to land was made. He sat upright and fastened his seat belt. Smile playing on his lips, he was already looking forward to their time together. Out of the corner of his eyes, he noticed that she sat quietly, book closed and looking out of the window. The flight came to a halt and it coursed through the runway, promising a breezy ride for the next few days – the pace, the leisure, the luxury and the comfort.


... to be continued...

The Journey Begins

This is a continuation of the fiction under the label: Meghana

Continuation after this

They walked out of the airport, away from the modest crowd and to the cab stand. He moved past several and stopped at one. The cabby acknowledged him with a warm smile and took the trolley from his hands and they exchanged pleasantries while she stood beside them. Abhinav held the door open for her. She pondered a moment about his gesture, before giving up on trying to understand it and slid into the car. He closed the door softly and walked around the car and slid beside her. They sat as strangers, distant and respectful of each other’s space.

The cab moved out of the airport, onto the wide route that went uphill. They took a right at the fork and the road dwindled into a curvy path. The pastures, green and picturesque formed the boundary of the road, as the car moved at a steady pace. There was no music, just the quiet roll of the car on a bump free road. The cabby did not speed even on the empty road, as though, he wanted them to enjoy the refreshing scenery on either side. Meg gazed outside, at the sheep and the cows, grazing lazily in the pastures, oblivious to her stare. She plugged in her iPod and kept it at a full volume, the loud boom of metal in contrast to the serenity of the outside nature. She felt that way, the inner turmoil at the onset of this journey and her outward calmness against her throbbing heart. Occasionally, the cab passed a few people, who peeked into the car with curious faces, with little success as the tinted glasses obstructed their view and stared at it until it passed them. Steadily the car progressed further. Not for once did she dare to look at her husband, afraid that the calculated serenity of her face would be washed away by his resilience.

Abhinav continued to familiarize himself with his wife, picking up the subtle hints from her body language. The rock band music reached his ears from her iPod and he pondered over her choice. She did not come out as a person who listened to hard metal. Her words and movements were quite nimble, for such wild music. So many questions, so much to talk, but she is weary of opening up, he mused. He could understand that. They have a lifetime to understand each other and he has a ton of patience. They would know each other and each discovery about each other would be like unwrapping a gift– the gift, would be a cause of joy, though the gift itself might sometimes be disappointing. But, still, that does not undermine the thrill of discovering it. He is familiar with the surroundings because of the long solitary hours he spent there, away from the noise and the tensions that came with a hectic life. He felt that they need familiar and comfortable surroundings to deal with themselves, rather than more exotic places that would have been an obvious choice. They would come later, perhaps after a few years of mutual companionship.
He saw this journey is an onset towards the beginning of the most amazing journey in his life. The first time he saw her in the photo given by his parents, was a moment to reckon. He felt right about the girl. He took a couple of days to research on the net – what with the networking being so popular. He dug around a little, read through the vast material he found on the sites. His wife is very articulate, very aggressive, very opinionated and above all, very practical. What he planned might come out as gestures that belong to a different century, but he would rather have her questioning the practicality in emotional relations, than have her thinking that he does not care for her. The thing about practicality is that, it can come off as being callous. There is a time for practicality and then, there is time for love, for allowing the emotions to flow. If not for the person you vow to share the rest of your life, the ups and downs, the tears and laughs, with whom, can you open your emotional side? If there has to be secrets, even in emotions, then it would not be much of a relation. He was overwhelmed with an emotion at the sudden realization that the person next to him would play an instrumental role in his success or failure and would be the beacon of light to his journey in this world, just as he would be to her. But, being the woman in the family, the emotional burden she shared would be far greater and his support to her, would be significant. He grew up to the bond shared by his parents and watched his sister’s married life. Neither was perfect, far from it. He reflected on their relationships.

The difference between his parents marital relationship to that of his sister’s was that, the guys in the relation differed in their outlook. While his father was stronger, with lesser ego. he gave his mother, all the support she needed, but always knew about her life, her choices, her pressures, the things in the family and he was never out of the decisions that were part of her life, trivial or otherwise. He let her professional life be, supporting her where required and encouraging her to pursue the goals, but in their family life, he had a say in everything and supported her in everything.

On the other hand, his brother-in-law wore his ego on his sleeve and left his sister emotionally drained out. The problem with practicality is that. His sister’s relation, on the outset looks perfect. The guy is willing to give her space to explore her needs and interests, thereby divulging himself from the things that matter to her which lead to more lone time. He takes little interest in finding why she likes what she likes or in accompanying her to the activities she is interested in, because he is not interested in those activities and has little patience with them. His practicality did not ask him to make an effort to share those activities to be a part of them, so that they could spend time together. He has no interests or hobbies. He is the sort of a guy, who rides a bike to meet his friends or watches TV to get over his boredom or spends too much time in office, trying to be good at what he does. The guy allows her to visit her parents when she feels like it, conveniently drops her off and goes his way, more lone time. He takes her to movies or somewhere out, but those actions happen only when initiated by him. If his sister did ask for an outing, he would say a ‘yes’ and would put it off, till the last moment, when his sister would just get frustrated and go out on her own, to cool her mind. And when she returns, he just gets on with the day. No apology, no questions asked and no ‘discussion’ from either of them. Both were working and their morning routine was a nightmare. She cooks for both of them, with little help from him and if there were any relatives, the pressure of cooking breakfast and lunch and manage a word or two with them in the morning seemed to be too stressing for his sister. His in-law was brought up with a silver spoon in his mouth and a mother who was more than happy to do the cooking for an army, so perhaps he never understood the nuances of a working woman. Everyone requires an emotional outlet, a person to talk to, a person to trust. His sister is quite eloquent in terms of expressing herself, her tastes, her interest, her wishes, unlike her counterpart – her husband, who does not open up much, prefers to let things slide as long as he gets his life running smooth. For some reason, he was the chosen person for her sister and she being the obedient daughter, accepted the proposal without any discussion. Looking at her suffer sometimes, through the emotional stress of not knowing what to do or how to communicate to a wall or how to accept the warmth that was sometimes bestowed by her husband, he ached for her. Looking at her feel the hot and cold, and shrivel like a withered leaf, made him detach himself from his in-law. He could still hear her words:

“How can he be so detached Abhi? I am his wife, right? I expect him to do certain things for me. I expect him to help me through the mundane chores. I expect him to consult me before making the decisions, not after completing them and then informing me. Do you know Abhi, not once, did I meet his friends. Not once, did he act upon my request. Not once, did he say an immediate yes. Not once, did he offer help in doing the household work. Not once, did he offer to pick me up from the office. Not once, did he offer to drop me to office. Not once, did he ask if I needed anything. Not once, did he ask if I am alright. Not once, did he make me something, when I was sick. Not once, did he offer to massage my head or feet. Not once, did he ask if I want to have dinner outside. And we are married for four years now. I feel like I am dead inside. I live for the sake of living. That is not me, right? I tried telling him that his behavior is not allowing me to grow. That it is spoiling my core, yet, he does not understand. We stayed here for a month, to let him see the dance of our parents, the beauty of a relation, the beauty of husband and wife and the beauty of a family. Still, he does not understand. He is not incapable of emotions, he sometimes is nice. He sometimes surprises me with a quick peck at the most unexpected moments. He sometimes surprises me by booking an occasional movie ticket. He sometimes brings me flowers. He sometimes gives me gifts. Sometimes gives me chocolates. He sometimes tries to get me talking, but he does not succeed and gives up too fast. You know what, the flowers, the candy, the gifts, are overrated in relations. The best thing you can give someone you love is the time and the warmth of words. That improves the connectedness. Rest all are secondary. Perhaps, because I get those, I think that those are secondary. I am not sure. I am essentially a creature who needs to communicate, through words, not assume things. That makes me sound emotionally dependent, right? Is that wrong? To feel dependent on the one person you are supposed to be dependent? The ‘better-half’ is the one, who is better than you and gets the best out of you and shows that to the world. Hides your qualms in his heart and pushes you through? I am not sure if my expectations are too high. I miss being able to talk to a person. I miss being able to communicate without the need to be hesitant. I miss being open about my emotions. I miss being me, terribly. I can’t even have kids, because I am unable to relax. I am being torn from one extreme to another, most of the time. Who would understand that? Who would think that, may be the girl is not happy? I put up a farce and he does not see through it. He still does not understand. He does not even make an effort to make things work. I am not even sure he understands that the relationship is sinking, that it is not going to last long. I feel sick every time I think of myself and I only see two alternatives. I either will roll myself into a pit and bury myself there or will get away from him and this society and make my peace with my life. I am not sure how Mom and Dad would take these things, but you understand, don’t you?”

She was trembling before him and he could do nothing. He felt like shaking his brother-in-law and talk some sense into him. But what can he say? That he is not treating his sister well? These were emotional issues, the soft issues, that are at the core of the person. The care, the warmth, the protection, the security, all are from the core. His core is incapable of generating this light, plain and simple. A person who cannot understand his wife even after four years of companionship, cannot understand the subtle hints, he thought. So, he was left with nothing. All he could do was embrace her into a hug and let her weep. He could not even offer any comfort words. He could not even ask her to get out of this relation. Sex is more about emotions that about physical comfort. He understood, long ago, the emotional imbalance of their relation and he knew it in his heart, before his sister even confessed that much. It should have been crucifying her, to have to confess to her kid brother about this. She is the one who protected him, shielded him, being five years elder to him. Since his teen-age, he has been her comfort shoulder, through the trials that she went through, the twin devil who argued against her every time she has had a conflict, giving her the other side of the coin, reasoning or sometimes ordering her to do things differently. They argued about anything and everything, yet remained best of friends through the times. He rushed to her, the first time he had conflicting emotions about girls. He rushed to her, sometimes, to just understand why girls behave the way they do. His mother has grilled in him, the manners to court a girl, but it was his sister who taught him the subtle art of understanding the silent signals through body language. It became an invaluable addition to his skills, that made him one of the best in the industry. Being tech-savvy means that the soft skills are a toss, mostly. But, his soft skills were natural to him, the result of the training by his family. And that day, his sister required him to be strong for her. He did not patronize her, he just absorbed the burden. That was almost six years ago. His sister’s relation progressed to ten years and she still is unhappy and is almost a glaring reflection of a martyr. His in-law is another reflection of a loner, yet they still live under a roof in separate rooms! His sister stopped talking about her relation with her husband. She took the reins of her life and fought back hard. She drew a taut circle around the emotional life and let the emotional storm continue its tornado in that circle, while she reached the heights she set her eyes on. She let the rotten core of her in one corner and made peace with her expectations of marriage and let her husband be. She continues to be a friend to her husband, yet has carefully locked him out of her emotional needs.

Abhi thought about the time when he questioned her about her obvious detachment. “I did not realize it was obvious. He did not realize it, yet. By the time it happens, it would be too late, Abhi”, she said. The choke stuck in his throat and his sister barely acknowledged it. “You know that I am still your best friend. You could talk to me, if that helps?”, he said.

“I am happy Abhi. I have always been a loner. I took strength and pain from my own thoughts. Not from anyone else. I will be alright. Don’t worry about me. I know you are my friend, dear brother, just as I am yours. Don’t think you will have to shut up about your love or life with your wife, I would be more than happy to listen, if you need someone to hear you out.” How quickly did she turn that around to him? How quickly had she dismissed him with a warm smile? How quickly did she close up? His sister’s life has been an example to him. A reflection upon the insensitivity of people.

On the other hand, he was brought up by a working mother and so was his sister. They grew up to see their father sharing equal burden along with their mother. They both took rest or they both were doing the chores, inside and outside the house. If she was cooking, he would cut the vegetables or he would clean around the house, placing things in their proper places. They worked out a routine, sometimes he took the kitchen and she would work around the house. They each altered between watching him and his sister, through their studies. His father never once took a decision without ever consulting her and the same was reciprocated to him by his mother. She was by no means a door mat, she was independent, the head of a firm and took decisions that influence over few thousands of people, yet, when she is home, she is a mother and a wife and respected his father. His father, has his own firm and every day he takes decisions that influence companies that span continents, yet, when he is home, he is a husband and a father. His first priority has been his wife and then his kids. His first priority has been his wife, period. It looked like they never were apart and cherished each other’s company, though that was far from the truth. They had tiffs, like every couple, but, they worked it out. Fought and argued and stood on their feet, yet, one of them always compromised by the end of the day. Mostly, it would be his father. He smiled at that thought. But they did teach him an important lesson, that a relationship needs work. While he cannot be like his in-law, he cannot completely echo his father. He needs to create his own style and work out what would work for them. And as far as he is concerned, he is willing to put all his effort, in making this relation work. He was willing to play her game for the time being, to let her be in her own mind, work out the emotions. But, her time would be up when they reached the resort. She will have to open up to him. Patience, that is the only mantra, he thought.

“I intend to fit in his life as inconveniently as possible. I wish to be invisible”, he recollected her words from her post. He smiled at those words. The first time he read that, he was worried that she was unhappy about the marriage. His thoughts ranged from anger to hurt to worry. With discreet inquiries, he sighed in relief that she does not have a broken heart. When he asked her, if she was happy about the marriage, she responded, to his surprise, a little honestly.

“ I admit to be a bit nervous. I never had a reason to share my space with anyone. I am just worried if I have the necessary equipment to deal with that ordeal, now”, she said.

“Well, she just has to deal with it now”, he thought. In the battle of wills, he is the strongest, knowing the field of the game. But she has a few surprises packed up her sleeve and that would bring in the necessary spice to this game. He recollected the kiss on his cheek, infront of all his relatives and her blush. He would never forget that. He looked at her, the feeling of warmth already in his blood.

Waltzing in the shadows

This is a continuation of the fiction under the label: Meghana

Continuation after this

Meg continued to look outside. The green pastures were interlaced with the cheery yellow squares and the distant mountains at the backdrop made the scene picturesque. The intermittent houses seem to spring up from nowhere, each looking like a fairy cottage, with bold shades that were very uncommon. She concentrated on the music, breaking the notes one at a time, forcing herself to listen to the chords of guitar at one moment or the beats of drums in the next moment, a sort of tiring exercise and a throb in her head, anything to not dwell on the next few days. Her thoughts swarmed her head, each emotion engulfing the brain waves, the sea of emotions threatening to be a cause of embarrassment. She refused to acknowledge that emotion, forcing her mind to think of something else. She started multiplying a random number with another random number. Soon the music became a back ground score and the mind started rushing past numbers. She knew that this would soon be futile too. She is good with numbers, that she knew. This was an exercise she did for a long time, that distracted her to an extent, but soon those calculations would also become a back ground, just like the music. She needs to start another exercise and wondered how long it would take before they reached the place. She started on divisions and challenged her brain to reverse count the numbers. A new challenge, a failure will put her mind to concentrate more. She failed couple of times, losing the count of division once, as she decreased the counter and losing the counter once as she tried dividing. She sighed in frustration, as she started again, tuning the mind to reverse count and fell into a rhythm, where that count became a tally board and she started the division of a random number with another random number.

Abhinav tried to gather his thoughts. He was studying his wife, but was comfortable to let her be. He could probably just touch her and bring her out of that trance she seemed to be in and then talk something to her. For some reason, he felt that this silence was important to her. He might not really understand the reason of her silence, but he did read about the anxieties of a newly wedded girl and he did not want to push her anxiety level to a high. Despite the suggestions in those articles that a few soothing words would help, he felt that his wife would prefer silence to words. He heard a sigh and turned to watch her. Her eyes were closed and there was a frown on her forehead and she was taking slow deep breaths. He wondered what she did to calm her nerves. He was nervous too, but, he has charted out the plan and he was confident of executing it. It did not take much – a quite time and a few hours with her and few conversations, that will give them enough time to be comfortable with each other. He was not worried about that. He could calm her nerves by speaking his mind, but she shut everything off and from experience, the best way to deal with people who shut out everything would be to let them be. They are now fifteen minutes from their destination. They already entered the resort premises. Their's was a private villa at  the back of the resort. Abhi always took the same villa and when he requested for a reservation, the staff was only too happy to comply. After all, he was one of their oldest member and he introduced many new members to their private resort. He got the most experienced chauffeur, compliments of the Resort and a pick up from the airport, as part of their welcome.

The chauffeur proceeded past the estate plantations and stopped in front of their villa. Abhinav got down the car and went around and opened the door for Meghana. He touched her slightly and her eyes opened in an instant. “We reached”, he said and Meghana got down the car and stood beside him, while he closed the door behind her. The chauffeur picked their luggage and took them into the villa. Meg looked around the place, that looked like an independent house, proud and aloof. Secluded amidst the trees with the background of mountains and a river flowing near by, this looked as though it was constructed as an afterthought. As though, the architect could not resist the scenic beauty from that vantage point and decided to build an isolated roof, that has the most soul searching vision of its own. She stood transfixed at the scenery infront of her. She has to give him points for this. He has an exquisite taste about beauty and serenity. She looked at him with a smile and he returned one. She gave me a smile, he thought. He felt the pride run through his veins, as he felt the appreciation in her. Surely, she likes the place, if she gave a smile. So, they have some mutual tastes, he thought and that made him happy.

The villa was a duplex, with an open kitchen and living room combined. The living room had a large TV and the shelf next to it had racks full of DVDs. The couch in the living room was a good ten feet from the TV and the stand next to it held a miniature flower pot, made out of marble. Behind the couch were the stairs to the first floor. The kitchen looks like it is out of some designer store – electric stove, oven, coffee maker, refrigerator, mixer, shelves with utensils and glass plates. It had a glass view to the outside porch and a door that opened to it. It had a small divider that separated it from the dining room. The dining table looks sparkling. Mats were arranged on two sides, with plates on them and the cutlery beside them. It had a glass jar with water and a bowl of fruits. She took in those things, while Abhi moved up the stairs, followed by the chauffeur along with the luggage. Meg followed them behind.

The top floor had a bedroom, a patio and a lavish bathroom. Meg walked onto the patio and looked around, already lost in the quietness of the place. The ripples of the water reached her ears and the wind tousled her hair. She stood there, for some time, looking at the distant mountains. This place soothed her taut nerves and she felt herself relax. Abhi leaned on the door to the patio and looked at her… She looked relaxed. Her hands held the railing and she leaned forward, gazing into the mountains. Her hair waving behind her at the slight breeze that was moving around. He wanted to smell that hair and tangle his fingers in it and play with it. He wanted to pull her into him and watch the mountains along with her. However, he did no such thing. He took a couple of steps forward, when she turned around and looked at him.

“I'll go to the reception and will be back in a few minutes. Make yourself comfortable. I shall also order our breakfast. Do you want something fancy or coffee and biscuits would do?”, he asked.
“I just want coffee”, she said.
“OK. I will be back in another fifteen minutes.”

She nodded and he started down the stairs. She heard the door and the car. She decided to freshen up and headed to the bedroom. She removed the luggage from the cub board and picked a comfortable cotton beige trouser and a white top and took out her vanity purse and headed for the shower. Though she appreciated the beauty of the lavish bathroom, she wanted to be quick, just in case he was back. The idea of her in the shower that had no bolt scared her enough to complete the ritual in record time. She was applying a lipgloss when she heard the door open and she was spraying the perfume when she heard his voice calling her down. She took a deep breath and went down the stairs to see him pouring coffee into the cups.
“Do you want milk and sugar?”, he asked. When she nodded, he added milk and sugar into one cup and stirred it and pushed the coffee across. He pushed the tray holding biscuits towards her. She ignored it and took a sip of coffee. It was good and she felt the freshness creep in.
“Do you like your coffee?”, he asked.
“Yes. It’s very nice, thank you. Do you always take your coffee black?”, she asked.
“No. I am just a bit tired and want the adrenaline in my blood for the day ahead”, he said, winking at her.
She processed the answer and though it made her nervous, she ignored the bait.
“You like rock music? I am surprised that a simple soul like you has such vibrant taste”, he said.
She looked at him quietly, contemplating a response and decided that she might as well give him a straight answer. “I listen to music based on my mood. I prefer soft tunes over metal, any day.”
“So what is different about today?”, he asked, probing further, with an easy smile on his face.
She wondered if that smile was as easy as it seemed. She is having a nervous breakdown with every word that she uttered and he seemed to be completely at ease. And he had the nerve to ask what was different about today. She pondered over that.
"Yes, what is different today? Apart from this being a culmination of me", she thought.
"I am now stuck with having a company for life, the company I know nothing about. I am now answerable to you– the drawbacks of being married. I am no longer free to do as I please, eat as I please, wake up as I please. The demands of another person in my private place should be answered and I am  having a tough time digesting that", she thought vehemently.
"Aside from the obvious you mean?", she asked. He laughed and said, "did that help your mood?"
“I listen to rock when I want to stop the thoughts from drowning me. The complicated music does not let me concentrate on thoughts, mostly”, she said.
He nodded, digesting this. “What happens if that does not succeed in drowning your thoughts?”
She helped herself to another cup of coffee and while stirring sugar and milk, she responded, “I exercise my brain.”
“How?”, he asked intrigued.
“I do calculations, like multiplying or dividing random numbers or recollecting the vehicle numbers that passed me or doing multi tasking. Like, recollecting state capitals and doing multiplications at the same time, something like that. If that doesn’t help, I randomly picture a board with squares and play checkers.”
He was looking at her, a little bemused. She surprised him alright, “multiplying? Dividing? Playing?”, he thought.
“What were you doing today?”, he asked.
She looked at him questioningly.
“You let out a sigh and looked as though you were concentrating”, he said.
She blushed and responded, "I was dividing random numbers and reverse counting at the same time and I missed couple of times”, she said.
She felt as though she has been a laboratory bug all along, when she ignored him completely, he dissected her. It annoyed her to no extent that he is observant and that she rejected her natural instinct of scrutinizing him, because he scared her.

“You look good and smell good”, he said suddenly. She blushed again.
His wife is shy, he noted. Here he was, sitting unabashed, looking at his slightly flustered wife and he suddenly wanted to embrace her in a hug. He moved his hands slowly, looking at her eyes. She looked at his hands and kept looking at them and he noticed the trepidation. He caught hold of her left hand and rubbed his fingers across her knuckles. She was still looking at his hands, eyeing the movement, focusing on keeping her breath even. She could feel his eyes on her. She refused to look at him, worrying about what her face would convey. She read enough romance books and she knew that he was trying to be nice. He is someone she needs to be acutely aware of and he is making sure of that. The subtle talks, the meeting of eyes, the rubbing of hands – honestly? He is playing the game by the book and she is falling for it.

“I would go and take bath”, he said, very quietly. She nodded and thought, “Why isn’t he going?”
He still continued to rub her knuckles, when she raised her eyes questioningly.
“Care to join me?”, he asked and winked.
She looked incredulously at him.
He laughed at her expression and said, “Guess not. May be some other time” and let go of her hand. She left it on the table in the same place deliberately.
From under the table he brought out a small bunch of white tulips tied with a ribbon and gave them to her.
“For you”, he said, with a smile still playing at the corner of his lips. She took those flowers, the light fragrance bringing a smile onto her face. “Thank you. These are beautiful”, she said.

He walked up the stairs, thinking of his wife’s incredulous look and thought, “Round one is mine”. He knew she loved orchids, but he decided to go with white Tulips, they described her perfectly. Sensuous, bright and warm and today, she looked the part. He completed his shower and wrapped himself in a towel and looked around the bathroom noticing her vanity purse. He caught the hint of her fragrance and on an impulse, opened it and he was not ashamed to do it. He took the perfume out and smelled it, recollecting the fragrance off his wife. It smelled divine. He shut the vanity purse. He slipped into jeans and T-shirt and went down. He saw her sitting on the couch, watching some animation movie, her fingers touching the flowers he gave her. For some reason, that small gesture filled his heart with a glow that he could not explain.