The Waves Whisper ✓

17 | fleeting second

13
𓂃𓊝𓂃

1975

I made roti, swept the floor, washed my husband's clothes, put the tea to simmer, bought groceries, and watered the plants.

I made roti, swept the floor, washed my husband's clothes, put the tea to simmer, bought groceries, and watered the plants.

I spent the next five years of my life doing these chores repeatedly, every single day. Those five years felt like five hundred years which crawled away slowly like a snail. I grew to hate my reflection in the mirror. I hated the woman who stared back at me with blank, shallow eyes whenever I looked in the mirror.

Vikram spent his days either in his room, writing stories, or outside with his friends, while I spent my days inside the kitchen. At night, he would satisfy his needs with me or argue with me, mostly for not giving him a child even after five years of marriage. He would slap me sometimes.

"The same expression, every single time!" Vikram said, one night after having sex. Staring blankly at the ceiling had become my coping mechanism while he tried to find his pleasure in me. By that time, I had become emotionless. I forgot how to smile,how to love, how to cry, and how to get angry, like a bad actress in a movie.

My memories started to wear off; nobody sent me letters to remind me how my childhood was. Khushi's letters kept coming for two straight years after my marriage. But it stopped in 1973. In her last letter, she said she was getting married to a man named Murli Sharma. He worked in Saudi Arabia. She said she would be going to Arabia with him after marriage. I received no letters from her after her marriage. Only Neelam visited me in Delhi twice. She had given birth to a baby boy. She was sad. She asked if I wanted to go with her. I said no. I regretted saying that. But even if she asked again, I would have said no.

I started writing a novel based on the life of a girl after her sister's honour killing. It wasn't a good one. Still, I felt good writing it. I felt I was worth something. I would visit Falguni's book store with the little money I had saved after buying groceries. She was kind enough to give me discounts on books.

I was stuck inside life's vicious circle until that day, a normal day in January. That evening, I was coming back home from the hospital with Vikram after the regular checkup. He was mad after finding out that I was not pregnant. Going to the hospital after missing my menstrual cycle and getting disappointed after realising that it wasn't pregnancy had become a routine for him. But I wasn't disappointed. I was relieved. I didn't want to bring a child into the world while I was at my lowest. Somehow I knew I wouldn't be blessed with a child from this marriage, no matter how many years later.

"Roopali Ji." The middle-aged woman named Bini, who was selling vegetables near the building, stopped me on the way.

"Yes." I replied. Vikram also stopped as she called my name.

"You had a visitor earlier this day." She said, while handing over the vegetables to a few buyers.

"Visitor?" I was confused. I knew no one except Neelam would visit me.

"Ji. He said, he's your brother." She said. A thunderbolt passed through my body.

"Ratan?" I said, my eyes wide with hope.

"Isn't he dead?" I heard Vikram whispering near me. I wanted to wring his neck for what he said.

Oh, I forgot to ask his name. But he said he'd be leaving at 5:30 on the Bombay Rajdhani Express." She said. I glanced at Vikram's watch. It was five past five.

"I'm sorry. I have to see him before he leaves." I said to Vikram. Before he could reply, I ran. It would take more than half an hour for me to reach the railway station. I ran a few metres until I found a tuk-tuk (autorickshaw).

"Railway Station." I said to the driver. The autorickshaw steered through the Delhi traffic. My mind was asking me questions nonstop. Why would he go to Bombay? Where was he? Is he in trouble?
It took an eternity to reach the railway station. My heart was beating like a dhol (drum). I ran through the swarm of people. I spotted the Rajdhani Express on stationery. The train started to move, and it took me a minute to reach it through the people flocking to the station. My eyes scanned the passengers on the train, hoping to see Ratan. My eyes travelled to the coach, a few metres away from me. I saw him! Boarding the train. It wasn't Ratan! My stomach dropped, and my happiness dwindled. A wave of agony washed over me. All those faded memories of my teenage years came back like a huge tide. I would recognise him even in the darkest room. I would recognise him even in my sleep, even in death.

"Apoorva." My lips trembled as I said his name. My legs took a step back. The train was moving away. My mind wanted to run after him, asking him to get off the train. But my body did the opposite. I stood there, frozen like a statue. I watched the train slowly gain momentum. I watched him go further away from my life, again! In that fleeting second, I realised that I liked him. It made me feel bad. It made me feel like a terrible person. I cursed myself for liking a man other than my husband. My morals hung above my head like a sword.

And for the first time in those five years, a teardrop rolled down my cheek, fell on the floor, and shattered like my heart.

___

Y'all, I'm back with a new chapter.
And...
Did I say I wouldn't be able to update before August 4? Yes I did. 🤡