ALSphere Foundation
It was the first thought that came to her as she woke up. He was gone. And soon, this bedroom, the house in whose eastern corner it sat, and a tiny garden outside with its gnarled old hibiscus and the half-grown mango tree they had planted together, all those would be gone as well. It was the strangest feeling ever.
She had always thought that she would be the first one to go; that he would never leave her behind; he had promised, but in his quiet the unassuming way he had left, disappeared, vanished; She could never talk to him again when she woke up in the middle of the night or at dawn. She was angry, furious in fact that he could let her down, betray her like this in her old age.
She remembered the first time they had talked about death when she was around 42 years old and he was 45. She had jokingly said one day I will go suddenly with a bang and then you will realize, you will miss me and he had replied with a quiet smile, will you make a big noise even when you go? She had started laughing and that was it. From then on wards she was tormented by the thought that he would go first; she had made him promise that he would not leave her alone and he had, and she had trusted him because he was so trustworthy. And now he was gone and she was left alone in the house with the tiny garden, with its old red hibiscus and the half grown mango tree they had planted together.
Every morning when she woke up she was forced to relive her grief. When she was asleep she forgot that he was gone and then when she woke up, reality hit her again every day; How would she ever forget the ache, how would she ever smile again? Nothing mattered now.Like the speaker in W H Auden’s poem she wanted to pack up the moon and dismantle the sun; pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood for nothing now can ever come to any good; like that woman she had thought that love would last for ever and she was wrong.
One never really believed in the fact of mortality till it happened to you. He had been very fond of reading philosophy and spiritual books; saints like Jnaneshwar and Sri Ramana Maharashi had occupied his mind constantly till there was no space in it for anyone else. He had always agreed with her that she should go first. His attitude to death had been one of philosophical acceptance of the inevitable.
He had been a very cooperative, caring husband, especially after he retired when he had refused to take up another job and had become a house husband and had enjoyed being one. Buying vegetables, groceries, fruits, medicines was his job. In fact, he would always give her, her tablets on time, drop her off at the college where she taught, bought her breakfast when she had no time to prepare breakfast, filled her water bottle, ironed her blouses, even folded her sarees sometimes when she came back from the college and threw it on the bed and then she too had retired and they had had a wonderful time together, traveling a bit, watching movies, reading their respective books, sharing silences, enjoying food, in fact doing everything together. She had never bought anything not even a dupatta or a pair of slippers without him. For everything she had been dependent on him and he had let her down and left her alone. She had often wondered how she would cope if he went first but never really thought seriously about it because she trusted him so.
After retirement, watching films on Netflix and in the theatre was one of their favorite activities. She had loved watching films with him. She opened up his narrow world by introducing him to wonderful thrillers, romances, and award-winning movies. And now she felt as if she would never enjoy a single film without him by her side. They had also shared similar political opinions and enjoyed election news together. Even in music, their tastes were the same. But she had a great social life when she worked but he was not very good at making new friends at his new workplace. He was never good at social interaction and always looking at her for support when someone came home for lunch or dinner. Even during parties that they hosted she and her children did all the talking.
But what he had lacked in interpersonal skills, he made up by being the pillar of support with respect to her parents. He had helped her cope with her mother’s illness, her father’s death, and later when her mother passed away, he had made all the arrangements.
He was always the silent husband. Say something,at least SAY MY NAME, she would say in exasperation, while they were making love. But there was no response. He just wouldn’t talk. He was so caring and so tender but he didn’t like to whisper romantic phrases which she yearned to hear. This was the only problem in their relationship. Oh well, she thought, one cannot have everything. Somewhere, something will always be missing in any marriage. Gradually she got used to his silences. They were so comfortable. At least he was a good listener most of the time. And she was such a chatterbox. At least he didn’t disturb her while she was reading or writing. Actually, when she saw other husbands jabbering nonstop, she wondered how their wives could stand it. In her house, the silence was so soothing,so peaceful. But even after so many years, she yearned for some romantic words.
They had been so unlike each other when they got married. But he had adored her. But she had felt he was not romantic enough and not dynamic or dashing. They had built their marriage brick by brick, facing the storms and family pressures. He felt that she was too strict with the children, too free with her hand, whacking them with little reason. But she was a good homemaker, a stickler for discipline and a good cook. She was a tiger mom, too concerned about her children’s studies and obsessive about their good behavior. She had enjoyed their life in the small town, but wasted her career and started from square one when she began working again when her son started going to school.
She remembered how hard she had to work when the children were small. Waking up early in the morning and sleeping late in the night with a short nap in the afternoon. She loved to read but had no time to read or write. And in the small town where they lived, she had no access to books. In spite of her excellent qualifications, she could not work for ten years. She got a second chance to build a career when he took a job in a big city, when the public sector company, where he had worked, started sinking. She cleared her NET exams and started working for a prestigious college and worked there for twenty years and retired as Head, Department of English. She was very thankful for this second career.
He encouraged her to work, endured her tantrums when she was frustrated with his mom, tolerated her high-handed ways, sometimes lost his temper and threw things about, but always apologized later. The best period of their life had been when the children got married.
She had always felt guilty of having been a very strict mother, especially after she watched “ Taare Zameen Par”. Sometimes she had been really ruthless but always totally involved with them. On the other hand, he was never strict and never really involved. Even when the children got married, she had to take care of all the arrangements, he behaved as if there were preparations for a wedding in someone else’s house. He was more worried about his sister’s daughter’s wedding than the wedding of his own daughter. She used to become very irritated by his attitude. He was a very conscientious brother. He helped his widowed sister to marry off her three daughters. He was a good son, taking care of his parents in their illness, till they passed away. But she felt as a husband and a father to his own children he could have been better.
And now she felt so alone, so uncomfortable, so empty and without purpose. She could not continue to live in this house but did not want to live with her children either. Their life had been pretty uneventful and mundane, sometimes unsatisfactory but always based on trust and honesty. She knew that it was over, that he would never return but even now she searched for his face on the road, in the crowd. When the phone rang she hoped that it would be him. Every morning she did not want to get up, she wanted to go back to sleep and sleep forever, and dream of him. She had to find something to give her solace; something that would ease her constant pain; some forgotten joy to lighten her heavy heart. Maybe writing about her pain would comfort her; she would try and see. But one thing she had realized – everyone and everything is transitory, nothing permanent; everything around her would one day disappear; it was the strangest but the most calming thought.
Her acceptance of his mortality was a turning point in her life. She started writing poetry. She always had dreamt of being a poet, but her busy life had never given her enough time. Now words and ideas swirled in her mind and she wrote to acquire solace for herself and share her experiences. She imagined her poems scattered like autumn leaves throughout the world, bringing pleasure and wisdom to her readers. She was sure that her poetry would provide peace and joy and she wanted nothing more. In writing, she finally found the tranquility she had been seeking after his passing away.
Gradually her poetry began to be appreciated and soon she brought out a Kindle edition which became popular and then she self-published her second volume. Her readership was increasing. Her only wish was that her husband should have been there to share her small success. How proud he would have been of her, but he wouldn’t have said anything. She smiled at the thought.
