The Bed Tea

‘I want to have a baby with her’, he thought, ‘a real one’.

He looked pathetic. In his low-rise denim and a dirty tee he looked like a street urchin. It has been a long night for him and it is 3:30 a.m. now. His sandals are worn out, more than him, due to over usage for the last two years. He still remembers the day when she gifted him the sandals. They were costly, but she insisted.

He told, ‘I will never wear that, I am going to preserve them’.

She pleaded, ‘Promise me that you will wear them and wear them down, to remind me that you own them and you own me.’

And there they are, still hanging on to his hairy soiled feet with uncut nails, soil accumulated deep down inside it. But he loved his sandals because it reminds him how much she loved him back then.

He thought they have lost their spark. They were the best couples during high school and even after that. She used to define commitment and he used to benchmark friendship. People were jealous but in a good way.

People wondered, ‘How can you people be together all the time and still look so fresh and happy’ to which he used to reply proudly, ‘can’t help it, she is the best and we are loouuve’, and squeezed her in his arms. She loved it.

And they were. They were inseparable. He never thought that a girl like her can fall for him. She was a perfect ten, way too perfect. Manicured from head to toe, and he was just another guy next door. It was she who made him believe that he is also a perfect ten. He was charming and witty and shy. She gave him confidence and support and never wanted anything back, except honest love and warmth. His being around her was enough for her. She was the one who brought real happiness in his life and slowly she became his habit.

He now wonders what happened back then. What happened to the promises they made to each other? What happened to the exemplary chemistry, the bond they shared together?

‘What happened to us?’ he thought this one loud.

The lady standing at the back of the counter gave him a cold stare with a gesture to keep his voice low, and continued reading the book, ‘What to expect when you are expecting’.

The memory of their first fight was still fresh in his memories. He does not remember why they fought, but he remembers vividly the bad words he said and the tear drops that rolled down her pink cheeks. He did not feel bad, but he is feeling bad now. He is amazed how he resisted himself from hugging her that time. He wish he could run now to her and say sorry and hug her, a tight hug. But circumstances are against it.

But that was not the last fight they had. They fought again later. And again. He repents that, but is unable to show that to her. He has always been reserved lad. They fought over petty issues which seem even more pettier now. He feels sorry for the bad moments he had with her, although she says that it makes their relationship sweeter.

He thought the only solution to stop things going worse is to be together. They decided to get married. They were too young to be married. He was 23 and she was 24. He knew he was not ready to take such huge responsibility but her support encouraged him.

She said, ‘We can pull it through.’ And that was enough for him.

It was her determination that inspired him to be with the angel forever. Now he repents his decision. He realises that being together is not a solution. Although they don’t fight now but they don’t love either, at least like the way they used to. Their life is bland and apathetic. The lustre is lost and it has only been a year into the marriage. He still misses his old Ishita, or Ishh, as he used to call her.

And now he wants to have a baby. He had no reasons for it but he was sure he wanted to taste fatherhood. He thought it is weird to think of a baby at such an early age of life, but it is what his heart told him. He wanted to have a baby with her. He is only 24 and wanted to conquer the world but deep down he was yearning to love her again.

‘Sir, you can come in’, the silence and his thinking marathon was halted by a voice that came through, right across the passage. He walked towards the door, with small and measured steps and crossed fingers, towards the green curtain, which he hated as soon as he entered the building.

As soon as he entered the odd smelling room, the doctor declared, ‘Congratulations, it’s a baby girl.’ He didn’t know how to react. He was not smiling. He just had a blank face. He looked at his wife. She was glowing and looked tired due to the pain she just went through.

‘Look at her’, she said, ’she looks just like her dad.’ He was scared to look at the tiny little creature, but he had to. He closed his eyes for a moment and then opened it again to look beside her wife. There she was, size of a 1 litre water bottle, closed eyes, calm in her face, clasped hands and a faint smile. The faint smile brought smile on his face and tears in his eyes.  He found, rather discovered his long-lost love again and there she is. There is Ishh junior.

‘She is my love’, he said, ‘our love.’

‘Bed tea for the sweetest hubby in the world’, he woke up suddenly and realised that it was just a dream. He had no idea what the time was. The sun was already out. He saw his wife, looking more beautiful than before with two cups in her two soft hands. He took both the cups, kept them on the bedside table. Then he made his wife sit beside him and hugged her tightly, the first time in the two months of their marriage.

‘Hey what happened?’, she asked, ‘did you have a nightmare?’

He looked into her eyes and said, ‘No I had the world’s bestest dream. I love you.’

‘Ish, let’s make a baby. A real one.’

pic courtesy

The Black Umbrella

It was raining heavily. Water logged streets all around. The bus’ windows were closed but still he can see people getting wet in their futile attempt to save the last inch of their office dress under the black K.C.Paul umbrella. He has been seeing this scene for the last 13 years, every July during the raining season and wondered every time why he did not get bored after seeing the gloomy weather and people fighting against the nature. He loved it. He found his life bore an eerie resemblance with the outside scene in the rainy season. Everyone is fighting to save themselves, they know they won’t win, but they kept on fighting.

He started his career after doing his B.Com, in a Marwari iron shop as a clerk back in early nineties. Every day he will start at 7 in the morning, board his regular local train, get down at Howrah at 8:30, take a bus and reach down at his shop near Dalhousie. Although he is now the head clerk of the firm, he is still on time. In this journey of 13 years his life has hardly changed. He followed a routine and really liked it. He has made a few friends who are regular travellers of the local train. He shared a bond with them and with the few ferrywallahs who called him ‘chosma-babu’. He doesn’t remember how he got that nick name but he liked it.

He liked it better than the nick name given to him when he was too young to speak. ‘Puchu’, that is what he was called back then. Family members still call him ‘puchu’ and the younger ones call him ‘puchu-da’, ‘puchu-kaku’ and so on. He hated it, especially when his granny calls him ‘puchku’. But he never complained. He never complained when his younger cousin snatched all his colour pencils and threw them in the pond beside his home. He never complained when his classmates bullied him throughout the day as they saw his zip open and started screaming, ‘shame, shame, poppy shame’. He never complained when he wanted to study arts but was forced to study commerce. He never complained when in college the only girl he had feelings for said, ‘all guys here are like my brothers’ and then went on  to marry the richest of all. He never complained when he was married to Shephali, and why should he.

Shephali has been a faithful companion in his life. She cared for him a lot. Her favourite hobby was to weave a sweater every winter for him. As soon as she kept her feet inside the ‘Roy’ family she showed them who the boss is, and the family liked it. She was responsible, caring, very good with kids and paid due respect to the elders by keeping a noticeable part of her saree covering her head all the way to her nose in front of them. She always remembered when to give the diabetic pills to her husband and called him every single day at 1 pm in the office just to remind him. She always remembered to put the essential things in the black leather bag that he used to carry to the office every single day. The bag was around 10 years old, but still looked new having the shining steel badge with ‘Duckback’ written on it. She remembered to put monkey cap and muffler, both woven by her, during chilly days. She remembered to put the black umbrella on hot and sultry days and in the rainy season. She had a sixth sense. If she said that it will rain today on a bright sunny morning, he is going to need the umbrella that day for sure. The only thing that bothered them is their not able to give an heir to their family. They tried but failed. None of them were bold enough to go to the doctor for a check-up. None of them were ready to hear, ‘Sorry, you have a problem’. It is not that they would be ashamed or embarrassed. They didn’t want the other person to feel bad. So they decided not to play with the wish of nature. She said that it will rain heavily today.

He loved this time of the year when nature played with the wish and might of the mortals. Although the window glasses of the bus were hazy due to rain, he was still looking outside. In all the haziness he was able to smell the rain. ‘Trrriinngg’, the harsh bus bell rang and the conductor announced that he has reached his destination, in an equally harsh voice. He picked up his leather bag, brought out his black umbrella and a plastic bag. He kept the black leather bag in the plastic and squeezed it beside his armpit. Before boarding down the bus he opened his umbrella and hurriedly tried to adjust himself under it. He smiled as he realised that a few minute back he was dry in the bus looking at other people getting wet, now he is one of them.

He started walking towards his office, a ten minutes’ walk from the bus stop, at the end of which he will be completely drenched, but he never complained. He never thought of buying a raincoat. In the middle of this ten minute journey everyday he stopped at ‘Ali bhai’s’ tea stall to grab a cup of tea and a cigarette.Previously he used to smoke ‘Charminar’ and had ‘regular’ tea but five years back, he started having ‘Flake’ and ‘special’ tea, after Ali Bhai insisted. That year he got promoted to the post of ‘Head Clerk’.

It was raining heavily when he stopped at the tea stall. The wind was blowing heavily and rain drops were dripping from everywhere. His umbrella corners, his spectacle glasses, his hair, Ali bhai’s tarpaulin shed, everywhere. Ali Bhai gave him his ‘special’ tea and ‘Flake’. He kept the tea under the shed. He adjusted the umbrella between his neck and shoulder to light up his cigarette and then it happened, which made him remember the day throughout his life.

As soon as he lit the matchstick, a strong breeze brushed him out of nowhere. He tried to save the burning matchstick from rain and wind, but in vain. In this attempt, he became a bit careless about his black umbrella which was resting on his shoulder. The sheer force of wind and rain snatched his umbrella, made it cross the street, and gave it to a trunk of tree on the other side of the road. The black umbrella was stuck in the trunk of the tree and the rain was not able to move it from its place. He was about to run and cross the street to get the umbrella when he noticed a wonderful thing. A street dog quickly got under the shelter of the umbrella with three little puppies. This is a sight he has never seen. It seemed as if nature was happy with him and gifted him to see this wonderful view. He was so mesmerised that he forgot to light his cigarette, his tea, and he forgot that he was getting wet in the rain. And when he realised, he smiled.

He returned home that day at his usual time. Shephali looked at him, ‘Why are you wet?’, she asked, ‘Where is your umbrella?’ He for the first time looked into the eyes of his beloved wife and told a truth and a lie, both for the first time. ‘I lost my umbrella’, he said, ‘I love you.’

 

Pic Courtesy

Spoiler Alert: This is a hate post

Illusion. In this world nobody deserves anybody. Nobody is perfect for the other person. If you think I deserve her or she deserves me, you are in a mere illusion my friend. Wake up! Grow up!!

Few days back I came across an article which claims that a research has proved that women regret more than men on a failed relationship. I don’t know about any research and I don’t care about any. I don’t need to be a PhD in rocket science to comment about relationships (it is tougher than rocket science though) or truths. Experience speaks. The research says that men don’t dwell upon their past so much. I don’t agree. Men are hunters and have been from time immemorial. They dwell more. It is true that they try desperately to move on but for a guy like me it seems impossible. Not only for me, it is tough for all the guys around me. So I considered it as a general rule.

Whereas girls are too fast. I blame the bad men to women ratio in India for all these. They can punch you in the face and ask – did it hurt? And we morons say –Of course not, with a big grin on our face, with one eyebrow raised to emphasise the masculinity.

And guys if you have really stepped into their soft ground, beware, as they can be brutal. If they decide to be cruel even God cannot save you. They can inflict pain to such an extent that even Satan can cry (even if he is a male), and you will be unable to walk throughout your life with a straight spine.

If you see heaven in her face, you are in grave danger because it will haunt you throughout your life.

If you think that she is the one, I bet she is – Run now.

Guys in relationship – Don’t take it personally. Be nice to her always. (Or be ready to face the consequences).

Girls in relationship – I know you all hate me. It is just that your guy has not done anything near to being a moron. If he does you will see yourself how apathetic you can be.

Single guys – Be ready.

Single girls – You are welcome.

he and SHE

He said, ‘I hate you.’

She said, ‘I still love you.’

He said, ‘You do? I don’t believe you.’

She retorted, ‘I don’t need to make you believe that, I love you in my own way.’

He said, ‘How can I be sure?’

She said, ‘Do you need surety to love me? I don’t have to prove that to you. I know I will always be yours even if you are not mine.’

He said, ‘You were not there when I needed you the most. I was not able to talk to you when I wanted share everything of my life. You were distant.’

She said, ‘You were always with me. Whether I was able to talk to you or not, I always felt you. Beside me. Around me.’

He said, ‘I needed you to complete me. I am incomplete without you. I needed you to be part of my driving force. Where were you?’

She said, ‘May be I was being selfish or I had a wrong notion that loving someone is being with. I don’t even start without you. For me driving force is you. I was here.’

He said, ‘Don’t be a hypocrite. Just say that you don’t love me anymore. Say that you don’t think about me all the time. Say that I am not the one. Say that my exclusivity has been taken by somebody else. For God’s sake just say it.’

She said, ‘I never lie to you. But if that is what you really want to hear I can say it. I can do anything you want that makes you happy.’

He said, ‘I knew you will say it. You always had that in mind. You have lost my trust. You were dying to run away from me.’

Then he ran away. Far, far away from her. Far away from himself. He ran to get a life for himself leaving his life far behind. She stood there. She watched him running away from her as the distance grew further. She did not stop him from doing what he wanted. She did not cry. The rain poured. She is still standing there, trembling and having her fingers crossed, asking, ‘Were you there when I needed YOU the most?’

Lazy Thoughts

I am lazy. I knew it before my friends told me that. They frustratingly asked me to write a blog. Now since I am in no mood to write it, the literary quality of the post has been deliberately compromised. Please bear with it or get the hell outta here. I told that I am in dearth of topics. I am just an amateur and out of topics is completely a natural state. But morons are morons. This is what happens when you force somebody to do something.

Okay I thought and thought and thought (lately I have been doing a lot of thinking) but still could not find out what should I write about (natural result of excessive thinking when you are not used to it). Well I am not exactly out of topics. You know me. I can blabber about anything under the sun. I can write about the week I spent in the office and that will be too much of whining and exaggeration. I can also write about the birthday treat thrown by my good friends and how we all enjoyed. I can write about how I spent my Friday night (worked till 9 and after that drank like a fish) but that will be too conventional to deal with the hangover. I can complain about myself and how I missed my CAT class again. I can tell you my plans of spending my Independence Day but that will be too boring (it is not that I am not patriotic, it is because you all are not patient enough to read).

Well I can write about a big event that happened yesterday but I want to keep it a secret. I know I can’t keep it but I am a bit superstitious. I control myself from getting over excited and try not telling everybody about it, and I fail pathetically in it. But this time I am determined to keep it a secret. Post on the secret later. Now I am just lying in my bed with no care for present or past. Got drenched in the heavy rain for an hour and returned home soaked. No food in home. No plans for weekends. I am hungry now. Going to sleep (too lazy to go out and grab my lunch).

Au revoir.

Sinbycosmoy