Tuesday, August 6, 2019

The Epitome


A life in rewind


“Babe, I don’t mean to tell you what you already know, but maybe you need some more nutrition, hai na? I know you’re more than capable of eating for two on a good day, but you know you have to do that every day, right now na?”
She rolled her eyes at him, but obediently pulled the plate closer again. “But this is boring food! There’s no taste to this!”
“Haan na, baby, itna teekha tum kha sakti ho, baby thodi khaayegi…”
“Why? I’m sure she’ll love some achaar… Let’s try na?”
He dropped his head into his palm and laughed, “We’ll try tomorrow. For now, eat.”
She grumbled and picked up the spoon, turning towards him for another complaint, but he was too quick.
“Mmm, now you can take your time with your food, and I’ll get a nice nap” he settled comfortably on her extended legs, a pillow between her thigh and his head, “Go on, take your time.”
She sighed, sniggering to herself, and got down to finishing her food.

***

‘The mornings came too quickly these days’ she thought to herself, as she stretched and heard him already putting on his belt. The unmistakable clink of the buckle told her she’d missed the morning banter.
“You’re not coming back in, to bed?”
 He glanced at her in the mirror and smiled at the routine they’d carried on for years “No, sweets, it’s late today. Gym mein thoda zyaada time lag gaya. But I’ll come home early, and we’ll do coffee and Bournvita”
“Can I have beer?”
“Can I first have my baby?”
“Take her now only, she’s a bore, just like you. She wants to go to work.”
“Just like me, or just like you?”
“I’m a lazy ass, you’re the one who won’t come back to bed.”
“Mommy darling, you’re dying to get back to work, and you know it. You’re probably already drafting an intro mail for your daughter and setting her task list up. Okay, I’m off. Kiss?”
“Ew, no! I need to brush.”
He leaned down and kissed her belly, then grinned up at her “I wasn’t asking you.”
She began to laugh.

***


The door opened and his perfume drifted in to her before his voice did. He was on the phone.
“Hunjee, abhi ghar aaya hoon. Just got in.”
She mumbled into her pillow “You can get off the phone now, at least.”
His voice smiled out from her earpiece, and his breath tickled her shoulder “But then I won’t hear your pretty voice say ‘I love you’ over the phone na?”
She growled in response “I love you”
“Okaayy bye…”
His hand was rubbing her back now “What happened, bad day?”
“No. I’m just surrounded by idiots who don’t know their hands from their feet.”
“So, bad day.”
He was making noises with glasses and all.
“No, no! Wait! I’ve made you filter coffee. Thandi hai, bas thodi garam kar do.”
He paused, and turned to her with a frown “Why are you making me coffee at night? Don’t tell me you have work to do yaar…”
She grimaced. He wasn’t going to be happy “Not much… Just a little…”
“Yaar toh din mein kar lete na, why would you leave it for after I get home?”
“Arre abhi shaam ko aaya…”
“So, we’ve talked about this na, why would you take up a project at night?”
“It was important…”
“No yaar, you do your project, then I’m going to sleep. I’m tired.”
He walked off, cup of coffee left on the table, a plate of food in his hand.

“Scoot.”
He looked up at her “Jaldi kaam khatam karo, and sleep. Don’t waste time. Again, you’ll stay up late, and be tired tomorrow.”
“No, I’m done.”
“Done with work?”
“No, work is there, I’ve pushed delivery time to tomorrow evening.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to spend time with my husband. He’s quite sexy, you know.”


***


“Pastels look gorgeous on you”
She stole a side-glance at her almost-husband “You know what a pastel is?”
He nodded, under pretence of straightening his glasses “Like the signal is a green, the pista ice cream is a pastel green; I remember.”
She stifled her laughter as her father gave her a look from across the mandap. Probably not the best time to get in touch with her sense of humour.
“Babe, suno na…”
“Hmm?”
“Aapko mujhe prompt karna padega. I have no idea what anyone is saying. Thoda distracted hoon na. Those pastels and all.”
“Damn it, I was hoping the fam would do that bit. Mujhe ghanta pata hai, what to do…”
They both stopped laughing as the pandit gave them a dirty look this time.


***

“Listen.”
“Hunjee?”
“If I quit my job, pick up my Rani of Jhansi sword and come off to your city, and convince your family, would you seriously consider spending the rest of your life with me?”
“Sure. But where would you get the sword from? And who would pay your rent?”
“Arre that I’ll manage. And rent maane, I’ll take over your business, siphon off funds as expenses, and make it vastly successful within the financial year, so you’ll never find the money taken out.”
“Oh, accha. But market down hai, and regulations are against us.”
“Haan, but I’ll probably pull a Richard Gere from Pretty Woman. Have you seen Pretty Woman?”
“What is the Richard Gere reference, but?”
“You’ve not seen Pretty Woman?”
“I HAVE, I don’t get the Richard Gere reference.”
“Oh. He basically buys big companies that are floundering and sells them off bit by bit.”
“So, you’re buying me out and selling me off?”
“Not you ya. Your company. And I’m not buying, I’m going to seduce you to sign it off to me.”
“You know it’s not really MY company to sign over to you.”
“Older people love me. That’s my concern, not yours.”
“Aight. Let’s see. My signature will come last, if you succeed in the rest.”
“Haan, but then you’ll spend na, rest of life with me? Even if I dissolve the company?”
“Kyun nahi? Raja ban ke jeeyenge.”
“I’m serious.”
“Huh?”
“I’m serious.”
“About?”
“Will you consider marrying me?”
“Babe, we talked about this…”
“I don’t give a fuck. Do you want to?”
“Yes”
“BRB, getting my sword.”


***

 
She packed up his shirt, and his t-shirt. And the note he had sent her when she’d won her major milestone. And the box from the chocolates. And put them all the corner of the cupboard.
The house still resonated with his voice. The city still threw scents of his presence at her. Her phone was strangely lighter now, and her inbox strangely empty. The ding of texts wasn’t as fun to hear anymore.

Maybe it was a coincidence that the rains had started when the final page of their storybook had been turned. Perhaps some lucky little girl in the future would read the child-friendly, happily-ever-after version of their story. Their original story was more like the German old wives’ tale version, with a gruesome ending. At least, it was gruesome for her.

‘It’s not like you’re a mermaid or a secret princess, really, what did you expect?’
She shook her head at her momentary lapse of practicality, and mentally put away the silly flights of fancy away with the clothes and the past few mementos she couldn’t bear to throw away.

Scents fade away faster than people do. But they hurt more. Scents remind you about love in a weird, integral way that kicks you in the gut and lifts you up, at the same time.
The collar, crook of the arm, and mid-torso of the shirt in her hands no longer smelled of him. It no longer reminded her of being engulfed in the protective bubble of their fairy-tale.


***

“Suno na.”
“Hmm…?”
“I think we need to talk…”



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