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| September (First) 2010 |
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| DELHI PRESS MAGAZINES : WOMAN'S ERA |
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WOMAN'S ERA /
FICTION (8/21) / THE METAMORPHOSIS
| The Metamorphosis |
| They had separated a long time ago... but then, what was pulling her towards him... |
| By Madhu Kamath |
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Once again I shifted my posture as I sat in the marriage pandal. It sure was tiring to sit through a marriage ceremony! The pandit had been chanting mantras and asking the couple to repeat the words after him. Sujay, my only brother, and his bride Ruchira obeyed. Indeed, they made a lovely couple.
In fact, that was what people were saying about us, Uday and I, the day we were married. But I hadn’t seen him even once, since we separated a year later. And so far, I had no regrets.
Uday crept into my thoughts that night after months and for some inexplicable reason, it made me feel uneasy.
At last, the marriage ceremony was over. Everyone got up cheerfully but longing to stretch one’s legs.
There was another round of exotic-smelling coffee before we proceeded to the house where we were to stay for the night.
With muscles cramped and joints creaking with hours of sitting in one place, we entered the gates of the sprawling bungalow ablaze with lights.
A single tubelight was burning on the first floor balcony and a tall, imposing figure was standing there with hands cupped, as he was in the process of lighting a cigarette.
Unconsciously, my steps slowed down and as the man looked up, I stopped in my tracks. He was Uday. I think, deep down in my heart, I was expecting him and that is why I had been on the lookout for him all the time.
He was looking disinterestedly at the small procession and then suddenly, his eyes rested on me. None else seemed to have noticed him, for I found myself all alone in the middle of the spacious lawns.
I stood there for some time, debating whether to ignore him or not. But when I had finally decided to ignore him, I found him right next to me.
I had often wondered how I would react if I had a chance encounter with Uday, and now I knew. I did not react at all. It was as if I were facing a complete stranger who resembled someone I once knew.
The first thing I noticed was the sneering look that I had seen first when I resumed work after our honeymoon in Kovalam. In fact, that one week at the seaside resort was the only happy time I experienced in our short married life.
“Hi, beautiful” he almost leered at me.
I raised a blank, stony face and asked, “What do you want?”
“I noticed you looking hopefully at me. So I thought I might oblige you,” he was as smug as ever.
“Looking hopefully at you?” I almost spat out at him. “I gave that up as futile when we were still newly-married.”
“What do you mean?” he roared like an injured bull.
“Mind your language. Remember, I am no more your wife.”
And with that I stalked into the house, my head held high.
There was pin drop silence in the huge hall, as I entered. All eyes were riveted on me. I dumped my handbag on one of the camp cots and flopped down with a sigh of relief.
Most of the people around were close relatives — my parents, brother, uncles, aunts and an assortment of cousins. Besides, there were a few close friends.
And, of course, my son too, was there. My past was no secret to them.
It was my mother who broke the silence, “How is Uday here?”
I replied indifferently, “He probably lives on the first floor. He got the impression that I was desirous of his company... I was only trying to correct his impression.”
I had been looking forward to having a good night’s sleep or whatever was left of the night. But now such a prospect seemed remote. I just could not keep Uday out of my mind.
Not that I missed him or anything. Far from it. But what was crowding my mind were the stifling memories of the 11 months that we had spent together under the same roof, sharing the same bed.
After the first few months, our bed-sharing had been for namesake only. Uday didn’t even touch me. And gradually, when all my efforts to please him failed and the initial disappointment dimmed off, desire of any kind became alien to me also.
I seemed to be the only one awake in that lovely big air-conditioned hall. I turned on my side, facing the lawns. The servants had discreetly switched off the lights when the babble of voices had stopped, but I lay wide awake, thinking of my marriage which no one could have saved.
I had my reservations about going in for an arranged marriage but had agreed to it only because there was no
Mr Right on or behind the scenes.
My thoughts drifted back to Kovalam...
Uday had been a stranger to me but in that one week I felt as if I had known him all my life.
How was I to know that he appeared easy to get along with because we had only each other for company? Little did I realise that I would be in for a shock soon after. The real Uday was poles apart from the one I had known during that one week.
The night we returned home from Kovalam, Uday started grumbling, “Why do you have to go back to work? You should resign.”
I was taken aback.
“But why, Uday? I love my work and it has taken me years of hard work to reach where I am today. I can’t even imagine giving up my job!”
Uday did not reply. He went off to sleep without even wishing me good night. He seemed his usual self the next morning. So, I ignored his earlier remarks.
I work in a big commercial house and I have come up from a mere secretary to a much respected PRO. Uday manages his late father’s firm and is exceptionally good at his work.
I was happy to go back to office. My colleagues were throwing a party for us the coming Saturday and I was really looking forward to Uday meeting them. But Saturday evening brought disaster.
Uday acknowledged the introductions smilingly and then strangely, he became glum.
I was aware of his eyes following me incessantly and I spotted some suspicion lurking in them. He sulked and frowned for the rest of the evening. Everyone seemed to notice it, much to my embarrassment.
The party wound up earlier than I had expected, and I knew Uday was the cause.
No sooner had we entered the car than he began, “We are not going to any such parties in future.”
I gaped at him “Such parties ?”
“You seem to be very intimate with all the men.”
I was astounded. “Intimate? Uday, I have known them for years and we are all on very good terms. That’s all.”
“Then why didn’t you marry one of them? One of those men- friends of yours?”
I was indignant.
“Uday, I have never thought of any of my colleagues in that sense. In which age are you living?”
“That’s none of your concern. You are not to mix around like a society girl”.
I gnashed my teeth. “What the hell! You are making a mountain out of a molehill.”
I was to learn soon that trying to talk anything over with Uday was like addressing a blank wall. He never ceased to look at me suspiciously. It suffocated me but I had my responsibilities towards him and the home as well. Gradually, I cut down on the entertaining and socialising for his sake.
My work suffered as a consequence, but every time I refused an invitation, Uday was glad. Whenever I did go out, I noticed that he would scan every inch of my skin, as if looking for tell-tale signs of an evening spent with another man. The truth hurt. He didn’t trust me!
And that day while leaving office, I skidded on a pothole and fell. I was hurt and got an ugly purplish red bruise on the side of my neck. The small incident made me miss my chartered bus and I reached home late.
Uday was already there, pacing up and down in the lawn. Just as I entered, he glared at me and pulled me roughly, literally dragging me in. I tried to jerk myself free.
“Stop it, Uday! There are people watching,” I said, but his grip was vicelike. He threw me on the settee and came charging up, nostrils flaring “What is this ?” he asked, turning my face with one hand, almost crushing my jaws. And then I knew. He was referring to the bruise.
“I fell on the road.”
“You slut. You dare to lie to me? I didn’t know there were men who kissed so hard.”
“Oh, shut up, you brute!” I screamed at him. “ What kind of a world were you brought up in? In spite of all your education and professional skill, you are worse than an illiterate drunkard. Get out and leave me alone.”
Perhaps my outburst convinced him that I was innocent and he calmed down. He tried to make up for it later that night, but I couldn’t even bear his touch. I was so disgusted.
Next day turned out equally bad. I was hauled up by the big boss for neglecting my work. He spoke coldly that he expected me to put all my energy and initiative with double zest into my work. My personal problems were none of his concern.
I was in a fix. I had to straighten out my personal life. But what was I to do about my
job? Give it up!
I wasn’t annoyed with Uday. I felt he needed to be tackled with a lot of tact and to be reassured of my loyalty all the time. But sometimes I did ask myself the question as to why shouldn’t he have faith in me? What made him so suspicious?
He obviously had never mixed around. For him, a woman talking freely to men was “flirting.” I didn’t know how to help him and how to help myself.
For a while, I did consider giving up my job, but an inner voice kept urging me not to.
After many a sleepless night, I decided to take a few weeks off and persuaded Uday to do the same. Perhaps, going somewhere, away from the humdrum of routine life, would help. It did, for precisely 2 days.
We were staying at one of Uday’s friend’s farm outside the city. That weekend, our troubles began all over again.
I knew that Akhil, this particular friend of Uday’s, loved Chinese food. Though there were servants there, I decided to do the cooking as a gesture of thanks to his friend for letting us use the farm.
While I was busy in the kitchen, Uday came sniffing in. “I smell chilli chicken.“
I smiled at him over my shoulder. “You are right. Akhil is fond of chow food, isn’t he?”
His face started changing colour rapidly and it looked as if he would burst. Narrowing his eyes, he demanded, “What do you have to impress him for? He is a confirmed monogamist.”
His words gave me such a jolt that I spilled the bowl of noodles I was holding.
“Is that all your petty mind is capable of imagining?” I asked agitatedly, as he started muttering and throwing dirty looks at me. He was impossible.’
Even with Akhil, Uday started speaking in an odd manner.
I found him sitting glum when I went to serve the soup.
Akhil smiled, “Smells delicious, bhabhi.”
“ Save your compliments till you’ve tasted it. You might change your opinion,” I joked, handing over the bowl to him.
Uday was looking at me contemptuously.
Unaware that the fall of my sari had stuck under one of my sandals, I took a step forward. I stumbled and some of the soup spilled on the carpet. That gave Uday an opportunity to taunt me.
“My wife,” he laughed scornfully, “handles public relations in her office, but it’s surprising she can’t handle a bowl of soup!”
I was dying to give a fitting reply but swallowed the insult.
Akhil looked away embarrassed, but I knew his sympathies were with me.
As both of us ignored Uday, it enraged him all the more. After I had laid the table, I found Akhil trying to ease the tension, but in vain.
What a hopeless bore Uday was! His behaviour was despicable.
But what happened next was worse. As I was serving lunch, Uday deliberately nudged my elbow, making me tip over a glass of water.
Feigning anger, he sent his plate crashing to the ground, “You clumsy woman!” he shouted. “Can’t you see what you are doing? PRO indeed!“
That was too much. I banged the serving spoon on the table and faced him squarely.
“What the hell do you mean? What was the idea behind nudging my elbow?”
It looked as if Akhil wanted to run away but I couldn’t take it lying down. Let him also know!
“You know what is the reason for this entertainment, Akhil? Just because I joked with you about my cooking!” Akhil was stunned.
Uday hadn’t expected me to let the cat out of the bag and he abruptly left the table and went out.
I felt so ashamed, I couldn’t even look up.
Sensing my discomfort, Akhil ventured to ask me, “What’s his problem?”
I had bottled up my feelings all these months, had not confided in anyone about our private life, and had been coping with all the tensions by myself. But now, finding someone eager to lend a sympathetic ear, it all came pouring out.
My tale shocked Akhil. I sat quietly, relieved to have someone to talk to.
He spoke thoughtfully, “Maybe, you should have a baby. That would help divert his attention from you.”
I, too, felt that might help. I wasn’t aware then that I was already pregnant
We hardly ate any lunch and Akhil left after some time. Uday must have been lurking around, for he soon came barging in.
“What were you two doing for so long ?”
Ignoring his insinuation, I replied coldly, “I had the sense not to send him away without lunch, even if you didn’t.”
I felt elated when the doctor confirmed my pregnancy. But I still hadn’t had my share of complications.
Uday became agitated when I gave him the news. He paced up and down, biting his nails. I was puzzled. Perhaps, he wasn’t prepared to shoulder the responsibility! But when I came to know the truth, I was horrified.
Turning to me, he asked, “Is it true that an expectant woman should refrain from sex during certain months?”
As I nodded, he pounced on me, “Go and have it aborted,” and started tearing off my clothes.
I was flabbergasted and tried to run into the bedroom to lock myself up but he pulled me back.
“So, the baby has already become more important to you than me, has it ?” he asked.
I turned and gave a stinging slap on his face. That enraged him even more and that night he used me very crudely, very roughly. He kept me pinned down on the carpet, all his weight making me immobile.
I was stifled and gasped, “I can hardly breathe, Uday.”
For the sake of the baby, I couldn’t antagonise him, but my pleading went unheeded.
“Then, don’t breathe?” he told me and began ravaging me even more brutally.
Those words gave me sudden strength and I pushed him off. He cursed me aloud. “If that’s all I mean to you, I’ll have to satisfy myself elsewhere.”
He looked mentally unhinged. It was a marvel that he was so good at his work. Could anyone ever imagine what he was really like?
He put on his clothes and left the house. That was the last time he touched me.
We had gone to Akhil’s farm, hoping to return with everything straightened out but life had become even more entangled than before.
Uday did not return till the next night and when he did, he was smelling of an expensive perfume. So, he hadn’t gone to a cheap prostitute. He had found an expensive call-girl. He sure had class!
I smiled bitterly, but did not look at him. Next night, he again left without a word. And as time went by, I didn’t see him for days at a stretch.
For weeks we did not speak to each other, but how long could it go on? I tried to make one last attempt for a reconciliation but he brushed me aside.
“Go and have an abortion and then talk to me.”
“ I certainly won’t. You should be ashamed to be jealous of your own child.”
“I don’t need your lecture and I don’t need you either.”
He sounded quite calm. So I decided to have a frank talk with him.
“Uday, can’t we talk things over like mature human beings? Your attitude towards me, towards my colleagues, towards our unborn child, is not normal.
“You are convinced that only you are right. I haven’t been able to improve matters. I really think we should go in for professional help, meet a marriage counsellor and try to live like normal people.”
I looked at him hopefully.
But he roared, “So now you want to declare to the world that I am not normal? I need professional help? You want to ruin me, make people call me a nut?
Despair overcame me and I slumped down.
“No one will know, Uday. It’s all highly confidential,” I was almost pleading, but he only bellowed, “Shut up!“
That was the last straw. I knew I could not persuade him. He would not budge from his obstinate stand. It was a lost cause. I thought perhaps Akhil could give him a shake down, but I was to regret asking him to intervene. He got literally thrown out when Uday came to know the purpose of his visit.
That day I left his house. I had to tell my parents the truth. At first, they tried to dissuade me, telling me things like the social unacceptability of a divorced woman, that a child needed a father, and lots of other moral stigmas attached to a divorcee, but in the end they gave up.
My son, Samir, was born a healthy nine-pounder. Papa informed Uday about his birth. But he never came.
Now Samir was over a year old and I was occupied with him and my job.
I had buried my physical needs long ago. Then what was this restlessness that was consuming me? I could not understand myself.
Dawn had broken and the birds were chirping. I tiptoed over to Samir’s cot and picked him up. Suddenly, I was feeling an intense need to hold him close to me. As he rubbed his nose on my neck, I held him tighter and stepped out on the dewy grass.
Uday was standing near the gate talking to an elderly gentleman, presumably out on his morning walk. As he saw us, he turned.
My heart started hammering against my ribs. This was the first time he was seeing Samir and I was surprised at my anxiety to see his reaction.
The only thing I was aware of was Uday’s expression that changed from distaste to growing wonder, as Samir was Uday’s living image.
Uday kept looking at him and I gasped in amazement as he started walking towards us, beaming as if he had recovered a treasure. I tried to maintain my indifference, but it was useless.
In spite of all our past differences, I yearned to be in his arms. And suddenly he was right beside me, gulping profusely, but unable to speak. His arms hung helplessly by his side. It seemed like eternity before he spoke.
“Usha... I.... I have been such a fool. Can you ever forgive me?”
He was almost pleading. But I had gone dumb. He smiled tenderly at Samir. I could see he was itching to hold him and suddenly Samir gurgled with delight and almost sprang out of my arms into Uday’s.
That action caught us unawares and our eyes met. We didn’t need any words. Just a look from Samir had been sufficient to do the trick. Our son had unknowingly transformed his own father, for the better.
I realised then that I had been deceiving only myself all these months by telling myself that I didn’t need a husband. I stood there, watching Samir playing happily with Uday.
Tears of joy and relief were streaming down my face. Uday came up to me and with his free hand, gently wiped my tears and kissed my eyes.
The last encounter, instead of confirming our severed relations, heralded the promise of a fresh start for us...
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