Just three words. A little sharp, a little soft, a little … They had their own characteristics. They had a face. The three words reflected Shekhar. She could imagine him and his voice in its various moods: love, anger, consolation and many others.
They were words from the past, from eight years ago. They’d been spoken when they had gone out for a walk, the first time they were by themselves after marriage. His words and hers…
‘Since when have you been staying here?’
‘Twenty-two years.’
‘Twenty-two?’
‘Yes, why?’
‘Was it easy for everyone to manage in such a small place?’
‘Yes.’
‘How did you?’
‘You must have seen how we manage over the last four days.’
‘That’s not called managing.’
‘What else can one do?’
‘But…’
‘Tell me … Don’t hesitate.’
‘No, leave it. You…’
‘What?’
‘I’m embarrassed.’
‘Come on! Don’t be shy.’
‘Don’t look at me like that. I get very self-conscious.’
‘Can’t I look at my wife the way I want?’
‘Don’t tease me now.’
‘Let me have my fill. I won’t be able to do that back home.’
‘That’s what I wanted to say.’
‘What?’
‘Don’t laugh, okay?’
‘I won’t.’
‘And don’t get angry.’
‘I won’t. Now tell me.’
‘Is it necessary for us to stay here?’
‘…’
‘And don’t make a face now.’
‘Kalpana.’
‘Hmm.’
‘Shall I say something?’
‘You don’t need to ask my permission.’
‘I feel hesitant.’
‘Come on!’
‘Don’t look at me like that. Say something.’
‘You were going to say something.’
‘I’ll feel bad if I do. Let it be.’
‘Come on. Don’t be silly.’
‘You’re too good, my dear. I’m just an ordinary fellow.’
‘If you talk like that, I’ll have to go back to my mother’s place.’
‘Now don’t get angry. Please don’t get upset. Let me speak. I may not get a chance to say this again. Let me speak my mind. I’m not being emotional. I’m telling the truth. Listen. I’m an ordinary guy. I don’t have fancy degrees or a great personality. I don’t have great ambitions in life. I’m just a salesman working for a chemist in Andheri, a poor soul who doesn’t get any time to pause and enjoy the beauty of life as he scrambles to make ends meet. All kinds of ends, physical, emotional, family matters, etc. The only time I did something for myself was when I met you. Your beauty floored me.’
‘Forget “managing” things now. Enjoy the beauty to your heart’s content.’
‘That too is a struggle.’
‘Why do you say that?’
‘I have to. Shall I say something?’
‘Please.’
‘We need to move into our own house.’
‘…?’
‘Don’t try to hide your happiness. We need to have an independent house. Is that not what you wanted to tell me?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then … for that … you will have to…’
‘Don’t hesitate. Say what you want to.’
‘You will have to take up a job.’
‘That’s it? You were hesitating to tell me such a simple thing?’
‘You don’t know the inner turmoil I go through.’
‘I know it.’
‘I’m the man of the house and…’
‘You shouldn’t think such thoughts.’
‘What about your parents?’
‘I am yours now. Your thoughts are mine. I have not forgotten our marriage vows.’
‘But what about people?’
‘We are going to get our own house. What have people got to do with it? Tell me your plans.’
‘My plan was for you to work.’
‘Will I get a job?’
‘Of course! We have an employee called Premchand. He knows a firm of solicitors. He’ll put in a word for you.’
‘And what about the house?’
‘Once you start earning, we can manage the extra rent. We’ll then start looking for a one-bedroom flat.’
‘That sounds good. I can’t wait to start the job.’
‘Let’s sit here. Fifteen days ago, we had come to the same spot. Don’t be so quiet now. You haven’t said a word since we left home,’ she said.
‘You too were quiet.’
‘I was thinking about my mother-in-law.’
‘What about her?’
‘She doesn’t like us going for such walks.’
‘That’s absurd!’
‘It isn’t. It’s a fact. She doesn’t like us being together. You should see her face. See the way she reminded us to come back for an early supper. She wanted to ensure we don’t spend much time outside. Anyway, let that be. Tell me, what did you have in mind?’
‘You’ve been called for an interview tomorrow.’
‘…’
‘Why are you silent?’
‘I remember her face the moment I think of stepping out of the house.’
‘You have to learn to ignore it.’
‘But I’ll have to suffer every day when I go out.’
‘You’ll have to tolerate it until we move to our own flat.’
‘Yes, I know.’
‘I’ve found a suitable flat too.’
‘Really? Aiyaa! When? Where? And why didn’t you tell me earlier?’
‘Our ancestors conquered the heavens with their penance. What’s the big deal about a five-hundred-square-foot flat?’
‘I’m always surprised by your attitude. How can you be philosophical?’
‘Philosophical? You must be joking.’
‘I get scared when I see this side to you. Tell me properly, where are we getting this flat?’
‘Borivali.’
‘Isn’t that far off?’
‘That’s why it’s affordable.’
‘Affordable, my foot! We’ll spend so much money and time commuting every day.’
‘Kalpana, everything has its own cost and one has to pay for it. Most of the time, we pay in a currency other than money. Like mental trauma, tension, physical effort and so on. To get a place in Dadar, we’d have to shell out a deposit and a monthly instalment of two hundred. We can get a similar flat in Borivali for a hundred and twenty-five. The seventy-five-rupee difference is against the time and effort the commute will take. On top of it, you’ll have to work. And if we can do this for twenty years, the flat will be ours.’
‘Twenty years!’
‘It seems like a lot. But you’re nineteen. How did the last nineteen years pass?’
‘They passed in a jiffy. I have to pinch myself to believe I’m married.’
‘Exactly! These twenty years will pass in the same way. You’ll be in your forties. You won’t be old!’
‘Aiyaa! I thought five hundred square feet would be huge.’
‘Imagination is always bigger than reality.’
‘And we have to pay a hundred and twenty-five every month for this?’
‘Yes.’
‘Did you notice the clock as we left the station?’
‘Yes. It took
