Yeh Lamhe, Yeh Pal

Worth the Kamar Dard?

"Mujhe pata tha tumse ab nahi hoga," Isha broke the silence with a teasing lilt in her voice, setting her tea down.

There was a quiet deliberation between Isha and Shantanu as they sat together in their living room. The day's regular bustle had subsided, yet there was a sense of home in the environment. It was the type of silence that only follows years of mutual understanding, disagreements, and laughing. The familial gravitas that comes from time spent with one another.

Isha was enjoying her evening tea while lounging on the couch with her legs nestled beneath her. Her gaze would periodically flicker to Shantanu, who was sitting with his head leaning on the chair and massaging his lower back while wearing a little grimace. With a smirk on her face, she realized precisely what had made him uncomfortable.

Uncomfortable.

Worth the discomfort in upcoming hours.

Shantanu, who had been lost in thought, opened one eye and looked at her with a raised eyebrow. "Kya matlab hai tumhara?"

"Kuch bhi toh nahi. Samjhne wale ko ishara hi kaafi hai." she replied, a playful smirk tugging at her lips.

"I get your taunt, Mrs. Bhosale."

"Oh, you do Mr. Bhosale?"

"Yes. Very well comprehensible."

"Toh na tum sharam ke maare doob jao."

"Ek kaam karte hai hum na ek saath milke doobki lagate hai. Janam-janam ke saathi hai na hum?"

"Mere saath sarcasm game khelo hi mat tum. You did not listen to me when I warned you. Ab yeh jo back pain ho raha hai na usse ab sehen karo."

"Kabhi kisi insaan ko uthana toh samajh ayega."

"For your kind information husband, pati patni ko uthata hai not the vice versa you know."

"Pati patni ko uthane ke chakkar mein, pati ka toh Ram naam satya ho gaya." Shantanu huffed, making a dramatic show of rubbing his back.

Isha laughed, shaking her head. "Toh ab aise lag raha hai? Aur tab jab mandir ke woh das seedi chadhi thi? Tab toh bade shaan se 'main tumhe uthakar le jaunga' keh rahe the."

Shantanu groaned, throwing his head back. "Maan gaya, Isha. Galti ho gayi." He smiled, remembering how earlier that day, he had tried to carry Isha up the temple steps like he always did on their anniversaries.

They would go to the temple, where Shantanu, even at his getting older, would take Isha in his own arms and hoist her up the stairs, a ritual they had maintained for years. In their early years, it was only a lighthearted gesture, a demonstration of his power and love, but as time went on, it developed into something more meaningful, an emblem of their marriage.

Every year, despite the increasing strain on his body, Shantanu insisted on lifting Isha, and every year, she would laugh, teasing him about when he would finally admit defeat. But this time, something was different.

This time, Shantanu's back ached and his knees groaned as he bowed to take Isha into his arms. He was able to hoist her, but it took all in him not to pass out midway up the steps. What had previously been an easy gesture had become a struggle between youth and willpower. Isha gazed at him with a mixture of concern and amusement; his face was crimson from the exertion, and beads of perspiration were collecting on his forehead.

He had managed to get her up those stairs, but at a heavy price—his body wasn't forgiving him.

"Tumhe nahi karna chahiye tha," she had said, half laughing, half worried.

"Main theek hoon," Shantanu had huffed, finally setting her down at the top of the stairs. His back screamed in protest as he straightened up, trying to maintain his dignity, but the damage was done.