(By Nirendra Dev)
Having the television set
switched off Pinaki Shekhar was blinking awkwardly at the roof. He gazed at the
wall for a while rather accidentally.
A framed photo of his and his
wife on the Kochi
seashore holding hands looked quite touching. “It speaks a thousand words,
frame it,” his mother-in-law had advised Pinaki when she saw it on the mail
box.
He got
distracted for a while. There are times, he
thought in the life of man solitude and loneliness of nature excites more. He
walked towards the balcony. It was raining outside.
He liked the rains. But
he was gazing above towards the sky in the dark dense clouds. This was by habit
----- unless he is fixing his gaze upon some object Pinaki particularly wishes
to examine he generally stares upwards. It was quite a stormy evening with the
whimsical wind making the night more mysterious.
Pinaki always thought he was a realist.
No much pretension about life. He knew his biography would not read any fairy
tale; it had its share of tension and some human misery.
Some weakness and some
success.
But the situation he was in perhaps
was beyond his comprehension, he thought.
And it all started with a bottle of
mango pickle. He sounded so much cynical to himself.
Every family quarrels. All couples quarrel. All mothers-in-law
have tiff with their bahus. So was in his family. But what has this turned out
to be?
His mobile buzzed inside…. Actually it had a receiving
tone of a famous song. Pinaki liked the lyrics.
The Bengali lines…. jibon khatar proti pataae
jotoi likho hishab nikash
kichui robenaa
Whatever you could write in your life memoirs; nothing is
permanent print in that diary….
His Bengali wife Malavika had translated
it for him and also taught him the meaning of the powerful lyrics and he loved
it.
He picked up the cell. No, it was not from
his wife. He threw himself into the sofa looking for a comfort zone in that
room.
There was a gloom and some kind of
suffocating heaviness in the room. Sadness seemed to be lurking in every corner.
He looked at his wrist watch trying to
figure out the time and subsequently lowered his wrist. Pinaki walked towards
the life size dressing table, it had a big mirror. He glanced for a while.
He
found his eyes expressionless or dried up a bit displaying only the
determination to get through the time he is in.
$
Why did Malavika leave his home in such
anguish, and with such an announcement?
“I am going Pinaki…your mother does not
want me to be with you; in this house….under one roof. Let her be happy. Once I
am gone, she can marry yon once again and get a daughter-in-law of her choice”.
Pinaki tried his best to reason. “This is
not the way, one should react..Be matured Malu…”.
“I was immatured so long, but no longer. I
know now what’s right and what’s wrong. I know what is right at least for your
mother”, Malavika shot back.
The argument went on for about 10 minutes
but the inconclusive meeting had one conclusion drawn by Malavika that she
should call it quit from the house and the marriage.
“It is tough to make
such a decision, but once I have made it, this shall remain,” were the last words from Malavika
as she walked away holding that faded brinjal coloured new tourist bag.
Pinaki did not quite know how to react.
His anguish and even trying to reason did not convince Malavika. Their 7-year
love tale was coming to an end.
But they did not deserve such a fate.
It
was a good love story and despite the linguistic differences between two
families, everything was accepted quite easily brushing aside his mom’s
objection.
Things also had begun on sound footing
notwithstanding usual pinpricks in any family. But the last episode has snowballed into a hot
potato – like a political scandal, thought Pinaki.
He felt dozing off. The last days or
rather nights of October month. Diwali was not far off. The winter was limping
back to this city of extreme cold and heat.
As he returned to his room now trying to
retire on his bed, strange thoughts got into his mind. That he should indulge
in some gambling during this Diwali. All his life he had tried to lead a
disciplined life; avoided heavy drinking and ‘never played’ gambling.
But
another strange thinking stuck him now. Even his wife used to be surprised on
Pinaki avoiding gambling with cards or drinking during pre-Diwali parties.
“Why don’t you gamble at times… at least
you can lose me in such a gamble and tell your mom back home that you got rid
of me?” she used to tease him.
Pinaki would generally react by hearty
laugh.
Once, however he remembers asking Malavika,
“but can you tell me why you don’t gamble. Some women do these days but
generally women are less into it?”
Malavika had rather given an interesting
reply with her infectious laughter:
“ha ha ha, you don’t know; in our case women's total inclination for gambling is satisfied
by marriage and once someone gets a mother-in-law like your mom; she knows what
the hell is too”.
$
Pinaki had no answer. He knew his mom
could go nagging all along. Despite his father and his grand mother’s approval;
she had hardly approved of Malavika as the daughter-in-law.
All these despite Malavika’s sincere
attempts in last 7 years to adjust to the family. Malu had even picked up
Pinaki’s family traits, food habits and even cooking style.
Slowly he felt asleep.
$
Next morning he was surprised to know by
his wrist watch that it was already 8 o’ clock. The rays of October sun were
illuminating the wall. Usually Pinaki did not sleep so late.
The room looked untidy just in the passage
of few hours since Malavika left although the floor was still shining clean.
Pinaki knew already there was a difference in his life.
His mind again turned to the recent past;
- the thumping of his own heart, Malavika’s angry oneliners and ultimately the
heated argument and then Malavika walking out angrily. Pinaki walked outside
the room in the balcony to pick up the newspaper. He was also trying to dust
off the memories.
What made his mother make that nasty
statement on receiving the 'mango pickle' prepared by Malavika, he tried to
figure out a reason.
Poor Malavika never claimed that she had
mastery in preparing the pickle. Even if she knew, she knew part of the Bengali
style preparation. But his mother had insisted that she prepare it in their
distinct style!
Malavika had given it a shot and upon
preparing sent a small portion of it bottled up in a good glass container.
Pinaki had himself carried it to his mom’s place in Chennai.
And it was this bottle of pickle that had
sparked off a mini-war after his mother made those unkind remarks. This
followed angry protests from Malavika and subsequently provoking her to stage
that telling walkout.
Initially the real reasons
for Malavika’s protest were still unclear to Pinaki.
But once Malavika showed Pinaki his
mother’s letter to her, things started unfolding properly. This crisis has been
actually constructed by his mom’s missive.
By now he knew – it is his mother who had
constructed the plot of this ‘separation’ of her son and daughter-in-law ---
betraying all the calculation and some miscalculation.
$
Unmindful though, Pinaki recalled the good
times he shared with his wife.
Only a fortnight back or so as the
temperature had come down to a soothing effect, Pinaki had grasped tight Malu’s
thin shoulders - her breast did some signals and her head bent forward,
Pinaki had tried to bury his face in her dense long hair.
They shared a genuine
intimacy together. Then why this was to happen?
Almost absentmindedly
he was looking outside again, at times towards the door perhaps expecting Malu’s return. But that was not to be. He had done with his hot cup of tea.
Time was running fast. The sun cast a rosy hue over the sky.
He smiled for a while
as he remembered his wife telling him once how the sunbeams can chase away the
clouds. “These clouds resemble a helpless daughter-in-law and the sunbeam your
mom,” she would say. Pinaki as usual used to only laugh these off little
realizing that slowly but certainly things were perhaps reaching their limits
for Malavika.
As he walked towards
the feet of the bed and stared outside through balcony yet again, Pinaki
realized that his house was not quite different from other houses in the
locality.
In most houses windows were thrown open for fresh air but the door
curtains hung drawn properly. None could guess what was going on inside each
house.
Unknowingly he thought
perhaps others also in the society did not know about the crisis in his house.
That his wife has left him.
But slowly the lanes
resounded with the hullabaloo of morning walkers, parents taking school children
towards the point to see off the off-springs for the school bus.
Pinaki’s thoughts would
have gone wilder but just then the maid servant came in coughing. Pinaki then
realized that the doors were kept open throughout the night. Why did he left it
unlocked; knowing very well that Malavika, his wife Malu is not the kind of
person to come back so easily.
The maid was young with
a charming face and had a good physique. After all Pinaki is a man and used to
eye her even earlier – even when Malavika was around. But today she looked
better.
The festive season and soothing whether added to the atmosphere.
Suddenly the gloom
seemed to have vanished from his room. Suddenly there was a joyful look around.
The maid walked towards
the wash basin in the kitchen and started making the usual noise with utensils
and her colourful bangles. Pinaki started loving the noise. It was like some
music. Is it a reality? Can man be real dog after bones?
Could the purity of magic help maintain one's integrity?
The maid started
humming a popular Bengali song more by habit. She had an okay kind of voice but
not the one to do justice to the old classic.
Still she was singing as her
hands moved quickly washing off the utensils.
“….
amari porane aasi, tumi je bajabe banshi
sei
to aamar sadhona chaina to kichhu aar
(When you come in my life,
there would be love song always;
This is my only desire,
I don’t want anything else)”.
Flames danced over the
gas stove. The maid servant had put in the saucepan to boil milk.
Pinaki’s eyes
traveled quickly around the room, then the kitchen and slowly towards the
maid’s bangles, her hand, her shoulder.
Ends