Chapter 10: Dard ka Rishta

Yesterday it was "Kabhi kabhi mere dil mein khayal aata hai". Today it was "Thoda sa pyar hua hai thoda hai baki." Abhir Bhasin thought that listening to his wife's soft rendition of random songs as she prepared morning tea and breakfast was more than an adequate way to begin his hectic and rather strenous day. For the first two weeks, they had lived like house mates who rarely spoke to each other. She would be up and sipping her morning tea as the alarm rang out loud in his room. She would still be sipping her tea leisurely as he rushed with his daily ablutions. She would be perusing the paper while he hurriedly put the coffee pot on and toasted bread for his dry breakfast. No customary greeting of "Have a good day" was exchanged between them. Neither did they keep track of what the other did during the whole day. When he arrived home, she would either be reading a book or surfing channels at random or simply listening to instrumentals or ghazals. But she would always be awake, irrespective of the time he got back. He didn't know whether it was because she was used to less than eight hours of sleep a night or she dozed away her whole day. Or she wanted to reassure herself that he'd be coming back to his own house in the night time. Whatever the reason, he was beholden to the her for the simple fact that he didn't have to come back home to a lavish architecture of bricks and mortar but a live flesh and blood person. Some one who wouldn't wish him a perfunctory "Good morning" and yet made sure he never had to leave the house without his habitual black coffee. Someone who wouldn't condescend to ask him how he fared the whole day but whose obvious apprehension gave way to unmitigated relief as she opened the door for him at night, despite the lateness of the hour. Who apparently did not have deem it fit to ask him why he wouldn't eat the obvious made for two dinner she prepared nocturnally and yet did not think twice before pulling his cup of noodles or soup out of his hands as he sat on the couch with office documents with an austere "No-eating-during-work-hours" expression. Who sat with him in companionable silence while he finished his meal before starting an irate tirade about his wastage of electricity, water, soap, foodgrains, fruits, milk, this and that ending with a statistical "Do you know how many people in India go without........". Who made sure that he didn't have to depend on the laundry man for something as trivial as a pair of socks or a tie or stumble to the kitchen in darkness for a glass of water in the night. A wife who would live with him for ten more months, but had made those imperceptible indentations his existence, which would perhaps take a lifetime to erase out.

" Abhir?". Pari's husband broke of his reflective thought process as he took the cup of strong black coffee she offered him. "Actually.....I...er......wanted ...you...to..." she began hesitantly. " donate to Ekta Kapoor's creative ideas' fund because she's facing a bankruptcy?" and immediately bit his tongue as he received the "Don't-be-a-smart-ass-or-you'll-have-to-revert-to-noodles-th is-week" look. " Grandmama has invited us for dinner ..." "Your Tulsi nani?" Abhir asked smirking. "No....Payal dadi....She'd really like to ....." " Why do you want to waste a perfectly nice evening?" he asked and felt Pari stiffening. " On the other hand" he began in a long suffering tone, "if I don't want to risk going back to living on noodles, parboiled vegetables, eggs and soup, I really don't have a choice do I?.....Be ready at 6:30 p.m and when I say be ready, it doesn't mean you wait till 6:30 to decide that you'll wear that silver and blue saree which needs an hour of ironing and blah blah blah....." Pari could have almost thrashed and hugged him at the same time.

It was 12:30 am as Abhir staggered in the hallway, totally drunk. He fumbled with the keys and the light switches as he entered his house. She was standing near the French window with a surprisingly serene expression on her face. In the silver and blue saree. "Sooooooorrryyyyyyyyyy Parrrrrrrrridi...." he slurred. " I.....waaaaaaaas ...............out hic.....cel......hic celebrating..........." the undercurrent of pain evident through the forced gaiety ...." You ....hic.....heard ....the............good ..........news...............Joydeep's...hic....gonna....be ..d...dddeeeeeaaadd...ooopss......daaaaddddd..."

Pari hesitated for a minute before she walked to Abhir, catching him by the shoulder before he stumbled on the floor. Wordlessly she lead him to his bedroom, the room which the couple did not cohabit. And tucked him into the bed, pulling the coverlet over him as the muted strains of the radio in the living room played the apropos piano song

"Tum apna ranj-o-gham, apni pareshani mujhe de do
Tumhein ghum ki kasam, is dil ki veerani mujhe de do"


I'm really sorry for the delayed update ... And also sorry if this one is not up to the mark