Middle Class Love #Wattys2015

The Emotional Tangle

"Mol, where are Roshan and the girls?" my mother asked with a smile. 

"Where they should be" I replied without emotion. The smile automatically left her face. 

In the hall, my father sat dumbstruck as he saw me enter the house with a lightweight trolley bag behind me. Ashley and her husband Vineet appeared shocked at my sudden arrival. Ignoring their expressions I walked to the bedroom that once was mine. I wanted to shut the door to reality and snooze off. 

With the door shut, I had myself to face.  For the kind of action I had indulged in I anticipated that society would mercilessly claw at my image and deface it with great enthusiasm. Blame me for not appeasing my 'husband.' The tears came and I dropped to the bed like a coconut falling from its tree. My hands clutched the sheets as I cried. 

Was Roshan the biggest mistake of my life? I wondered if entertaining the thought was useful in any way.  My mind went back to the first time we met, the first date, the honeymoon and the day the girls were born.  "If not for her, I wouldn't be going through this agony." I mumbled between sobs. I pictured my now aged mother's urgency to have me married when I was twenty five. "Amma!" I yelled at her during one such conflict "Your argument about marriage inculcating responsibility in a person is absolute drivel." Her eyebrows rose almost instantaneously. "Monica, I will not hear anything more." she said. "If your happiness is what matters then watch me become one man's prostitute and domestic help." I lost count of the number of slaps my cheeks received that day. Thinking of it just made me cry. 

There was a soft knock on the door. "Chechi! (older sister)" came Vineet's voice. I refused to answer. 

"Chechi" Ashley shouted from across the room "Please have your lunch."

I didn't realize that two hours had passed since my silence.  The shouting ceased from the other side of the door. I showered quickly and joined my family at the table.  All of them looked at me as I wordlessly ate my food. 

"Mol" my father said "What happened at home?"

I didn't say anything. 

He shook his head in worry. Taking a while to compose my thoughts, I looked up and smiled at my mother. "Amma" I said "Thank you so much for putting me through your idea of inculcating responsibility. Now please tell me how to become even more accountable. " 

Her jaw dropped. I looked at my plate and decided that I was not hungry anymore. Picking it up, I walked to the kitchen and dumped its contents into a trash can. 

It was no use staying inside the house anymore, a trip to the terrace would do me good. 

Picking up my cell phone I sauntered to the terrace. Flattening myself against the parapet, I shut my eyes in an effort to regain composure. 

"Nikki" he had whispered one night fourteen years ago. It was a private dinner date that he had brought me to. 

"Tell me , Rosh" I had answered. 

"We need to talk about the girls."

"Tell me, honey. Aren't they fine?"

"Yes, but with both of us going ahead with our careers...."

"I don't see what's wrong, Rosh"

There was an uncomfortable silence between us. I watched as he mentally revised what he wanted to put across. I had a feeling he was going to ask me to do something drastic. 

"Nikki, they are our children." He said patiently

"Our includes 'yours' as well, Rosh." I replied icily.

"They cannot grow up without us, especially without you...."

I raised my palm to the level of his face. The unspoken words hung tenaciously in the air. "Roshan, you imagine the girls will be fine if I quit my job and tend to them?"

"I am sure they will." he said shakily

"You imagine that I can be both mother and father rolled into one?"

The chilly wind crept into my heart that night. He and I didn't speak to each other a month hence. 

I opened my eyes to gaze at the streaks of algae on the once white paint on the parapet wall. My mind went back to another evening that disturbed me greatly. 

"A priest once asked his congregation 'How many people want to go to heaven, I need a show of hands please!'. Everyone in the church raised their hands except one man. Piqued by curiosity, he asked the latter why he didn't want to go to heaven. The man timidly pointed to a woman seated in the last row and asked the priest if he were able to see her. As the priest nodded, the man said "Well, wherever she goes, she is capable of turning that place into hell".

Roshan doubled up in laughter as he read out the WhatsApp joke to a crowd of our relatives at a family gathering.  Some of the men joined him in the laughter.

Ecstatic, one of them pointed towards their wife and said "This woman surely does know!!". The men continued laughing. The poor woman was deeply offended by the joke made at her expense. Late that night I caught up with Roshan who was drunk with mirth. 

"Rosh" I said, monitoring my anger.

"Yes Nikki babe" he cheered and grabbed me by the arm. Now enfolded in his embrace I said "Will you please be more human?". "Huh?" he winced and looked at me, confused. 

"That joke was far from funny, Rosh. You should have seen how offended Irine aunty was." I explained. "Nikki, can a man not have his laughs?" he asked. 

"Oh sure, he can. But why at the expense of another?". He shook his head and released me

"You women sure do like to take offense, huh?". 

I slapped myself hard and tried to exorcise him from my thoughts. I lifted the phone to view and dialed Oslo. As expected it was my husband who picked the call. 

"Roshan, I had reached a few hours ago. Just wanted to keep you posted." I blurted out on recognizing his voice. 

"Nikki" he moaned weakly "Can you stop being so formal with me?"

The request was as painful as its accomplishment. "Rosh" I mouthed with great difficulty "I need to talk to the girls."