A Heart of Stone with a Coat of Gold

Tremors of the Soul

Note- My dear friends, this part is a departure from the usual flow of the story. Please tell me how you feel about it, as honestly as possible. I would be grateful.

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Neel woke up to the sound of the rain. Pattering on the window panes as sheets of water poured in from the heavens, hitting with a loud bang. The commotion, a maelstrom of the Gods. Yet- his pupils dilated as he glanced at his wife sleeping on the far side of the bed- the woman kept on sleeping like a log, unperturbed.

Neel sat, leaning against the headboard and checked his phone. 3 A.M. Instinctively, his hand reached for his back. He slipped it under his shirt, and the fingertips grazed at the multitude of aberrations. He pulled his hand out and held his palm in front of his eyes. No blood. Not for 26 years now.

A habit he had formed since the summer years ago. "If anyone even gets a whiff about it, it would be ten more." His father's voice commanded him each night. On cue, each morning he would check it out before heading outside. He would bath, it stung, it burned, but the blood had to be washed away. Then he would slip into the darkest clothes he had, just to be sure.

Many things had changed, but this morning ritual had survived the test of time for 26 years. He got up and tiptoed to the crib to check on his son. Aryan was fast asleep, suckling his left thumb, his small chest heaving lightly. Neel raised his left hand in the light- for no particular reason. He wondered if Aryan was left-handed like him. And a surge of warmth rose in his chest.

Neel grabbed a pack of smokes from the bedside table. Flicking the lighter, he treaded lightly to the window, pulled aside the curtains and pushing the panes open towards the outside. A cold, humid air rushed in, filling his lungs alongside the coarse smoke. He turned around, reclining against the wooden window-frame and taking in drag after drag, observing his surroundings in the dim dark room.

A thunder flashed outside dazzling the insides in a spark of evanescent brilliance. In that momentarily light, Neel took in the sight of his wife. Anu Sharma. Now Anu Rajan. Bright dark hair, untied, spread around as she lay over them, irradiant and mirroring the lightning. Her slender face, a portrait of peaceful slumber. Her thin lips, a light smile playing on her lips, as if in a colorful dream.

Neel tried to guess what she was dreaming. Probably happy dreams of whatever young woman dreamed of these days. Expensive jewellery, exotic locations- and their prince charming. A handsome, resplendent, gallant youth who would come on their white horses and would take them away. All colorful.

Not someone like him. He ambled across the room on the other side where a tall dressing table stood and peered at the man across him in the mirror. A tall, lean man in grey shirt and white pyjamas. No colors. Black hair with white peppered here and there. A thick moustache and light stubble with slight hints of grey at the edges. Crinkles around his deep, crisp blue eyes. Grave. Sombre. No colors in there also.

He couldn't deny that after his promotion party, when several of his colleagues had commented how beautiful she was, his chest had swelled with pride, with ego. And Raghu later, in a moment of confidence, had said that he envied her.

At the moment, however, it made him cringe. He felt like Raghu, his only friend in office, when he had confided in him about his infidelity. Back then, he had judged him as a lecherous man in his mind. Ironically, he felt the same about himself now.

He couldn't deny he was physically attracted to her. Still, Neel knew he could never be the man of her dreams. It was a mistake on her part to marry him. There were as far apart as two persons could ever be. Not even in age. In history. Personal views. In beliefs.

His mind went racing back to the day when his Mom had dropped by for a visit on a weekend. She had come to show him the photo of prospective brides. Only one photo. A photo of a smiling young woman.

Neel had agreed to his mother only after she had pleaded him hundreds of times. He knew what the people said, a child needs a mother. He too was unsure. Knowing himself, was he fit to be a father? He didn't feel outright love for his son. There had been no magical moment when he had picked up his son for the first time. No revelation and no outburst of fatherly emotion.

Instead all he had felt was a devotion. And it made him sure of only one thing. He had a duty towards this child. To make sure that his son had a childhood. Unlike him.

In a way he had relented not to his mother, but to his doubts.

"Too young." He had mumbled with a shake of his head.

"Either this or noone."

Neel had frowned. "Why not a divorcee or a widow?"

His mother had only given a sad smile. "If you think this is a job you are hiring for, you are wrong. You don't look for the credentials, you look for the qualities. I have nothing against widows or divorcees but this girl. She is the one."

God only knew at the time what quality her mother had seen in Anu. In the end Neel had said yes. He had texted her once to make sure of the suspicion that she was not being forced. One of her family's mutual acquaintances, had even assured him. "You are only doing their family a favor. They are barely hanging by a thread."

"Mom do you think a girl who is only marrying me for money is fit to be a mother?" He had asked quietly, just as his mother was about to leave.

She had given only a small chuckle. "You are so naive, Neel. You think that I am doing this so that Aryan has a mother?" Then she left. Without telling him any further.

He threw another glance at Anu. She looked so peaceful, and yet so frail. She was asleep, yet she could be almost lifeless. A similar image flashed in his mind. Shruti lying on her funeral pyre.

Shruti, who had loved him unconditionally. He had tried to good by her. Done everything he could for her. Money, gifts, luxury. Even took her to trips abroad, after which she herself had declined.

Had he failed? What more could he have done? The thought had crossed his mind millions of times. For a moment, fear crept in his mind. Was fate repeating the same tune as earlier? Was Anu destined to be the same as Shruti just as she too feared?

Anu, who was even trying to help him in her own way, as she saw fit; even when she herself was scrambling to put the pieces of her life together. Suddenly, Neel felt guilt arising in him. Guilt for the things he had said earlier. Even after the party, when he had ridiculed her, he had had a purpose. This time, however, he had done it in spite.

Anger at her for digging in his past. For trying to help him when clearly he didn't need any. He remembered the time when Shruti had inquired about his scars. He had been furious with her. He had yelled, forbidding her to ask more questions. The one and only time he had been mad at her. She had never tried again.

But this shrewd woman now knew more about him than Shruti had in ten years. What troubled Neel more was the fact that a part of him was afraid of her. Afraid that she wouldn't stop. No, it would be better for all of them if she could mind her own business.

Nevertheless, when he looked at Anu at the moment, he saw limitless potential. Even when life had put her down so many times, she was still standing. She was beautiful, and smart. Vibrant and youthful.

Neel knew she was a rare one, this wife of his. Sometimes she was so strong that it even unhinged him. Yet, at times she was emotional- weak and crying. In those times Neel felt the need. The need to fulfill his duty.

Yes, he was fulfilling a duty towards his son. But he had a duty towards his wife also. The duty to make sure she gets the future she deserved. He gritted his teeth. He would make sure. A man makes it sure.