A tear glided down Khusi's cheek, and she sniffled, chopping down the onions, her eyes hardly staying opened.
"Khusi, for God's sake. Stop ignoring me!" Renuka pulled away the knife from Khusi hand, her eyes full of concern for her daughter.
"Ma! I ain't crying. This stupid onions ... "
"We know Khusi, we know you're not crying. She is just too worried about you," Diapankar sighed, keeping the newspaper, he was reading a few minutes ago, away.
As soon as they got the news of what had happened at Sandeep's apartment, 2 weeks ago, from Taniya, they rushed to Bangalore to meet her daughter. It was Saturday, so Khusi decided to make lunch for her parents.
"How could they treat you like that! I am ashamed ..."
"Stop it Dipankar, can you really blame them? I understand they were harsh, but Khusi is also to be blamed. She got cursed because of her own mindset," Renuka chastised her husband.
Khusi's as well as Dipankar's eyes widened in astonishment. "Ma! Curse? Are you being serious right now!? It's absolutely normal to be infertile. More than 10% couple faces through infertility in India yearly. I don't understand why you people are attaching infertility to religious bullshits!?"
"Khusi! Mind your language! We always wanted the best for you, but your stupid immature life decisions have led you to this. Now suffer!" Yelling her heart out on Khusi, Renuka strode out of the apartment, Dipankar's apologetic gaze wandering from his daughter to his wife, before he reluctantly joined Renuka.
A sharp pain arose behind Khusi's eyes and she slumped down on the sofa, heaving a tired sigh.People were making her feel guilty for something she wasn't responsible for.
This time, tears did slither down Khusi's cheeks, the reason not the onions anymore.
*******
Arranging the plates neatly, Khusi switched off the lights of the dining room and litted the candles. She and Bhaskar went through so much for the last few months, that she wanted some sense of normalcy in their life back, where they used to care for each other, made small efforts and loved each other immensely. A candle light dinner was what came to her head.
When Bhaskar came back home that night, he informed Khusi that he already had his dinner with his colleagues that night and went to sleep.
Sighing out in distress Khusi had her dinner alone, the candles no more glowing in the dark.
A few days passed, but she didn't find any change in Bhaskar's behavior. He acted aloof and gave Khusi cold shoulders most of the time. They had become strangers in their own home.
"Hey." Khusi sat beside Bhaskar on the couch, an icecream tub in her hands. It was Sunday, but they no more went out to have lunch or dinner on weekends. He gave her a side glance and curtly nodded his head, going back to read the magazine in his hands.
"Want some icecream?" Khusi tried to engage him in a conversation.
"It's 10 am." That was his only reply. Hurt etched on Khusi's face. He never said no to icecreams. Khusi just didn't know how to make things right or how to have him back.
Was he so lost in the pain of never having a child, that he had even forgotten Khusi?
"Bhaskar," Khusi whispered, grabbing his palm and interlocking their hand. He gave her an emotionless look with made Khusi's heart ache.
YOU ARE READING
Not Her
Romance"I don't want to become a mother." This line is a taboo for women in some parts of the world, and so was for Khusi Mukherjee. At the age of 25, independent and single, she wanted to live her life according to her rules. But everything changed when...
