Friday, June 11, 2010

The storm within!


She sat at the study table, doodling something on a sheet of paper. Her husband was saying something to her, but she wasn't listening. Her thoughts were elsewhere. Her husband took one look at her, and left the room. She sighed in relief. She wanted to be left to her thoughts. But that was not to be. She heard him calling from the kitchen, and she could hear clanging of the dishes.

She stood up and walked towards the kitchen. He stood there, with two empty dishes in hand. His expression said 'Why haven't you cooked anything?'. She took one look at his face, disgusted. She said, 'I am not your maid' and ran out of the kitchen , going into the study and locking herself in.

Yes, she was not his maid. He had other women to pleasure him, drinks and friends occupying his times of leisure, and the smell of tobacco lingering about him always. Was he the man she had married, so stupidly married? Now, she was trapped, in this, playing the role of his maid. It hurt. It had hurt, from a long time. But then, why was she bursting out today, like this? Was it all the bottled up anger? Or.. was it guilt?

Yes, guilt. She remembered the previous night. It had been raining heavily. She was worried and had been waiting for him. And then, the telephone rang. When she received, she heard a distant voice from the other end. It was not him, but it was one of his many friends. The voice merely said, 'Bhabhi, your husband is at my place. Hmm... the thing is, he is slightly drunk, so I thought he could stay here today. It's raining anyway...'. She simply put the receiver down. The drunken bastard!! She sat still for a while, till she started feeling warm tears running down her face. What a miserable wreck she had become!!

She had wanted to talk to someone, let out all her feelings and ask for some help. If not one, she needed a friendly shoulder to lean on. She grabbed her old shawl, and her umbrella, and walked out of the house, locking the door behind her. She walked steadily in the rain, holding her umbrella with a strong determination, to not let it fly away. She knew that there was one person who would listen to her, who would understand her. She lifted her hand to knock at his door. But noticing that it was open, she entered, looking for him. He sat there, on the floor, with a glass in front of him. She cleared her throat, and he looked up. He merely said 'Hi, why don't you come in?'. No surprise! A mere acknowledgement of her presence. She looked at him. 'Since when did you start drinking? You are also becoming like him.' He pushed his glass away, and motioned her to sit down, on the floor. She came in, keeping the umbrella near the door.

He asked, 'He hasn't come home tonight? Again?'. She hung her head in shame, as tears threatened to roll down her cheeks. He said 'I am sorry you married him. You deserve better. He doesn't know your value. You are a wonderful woman, Ahalya. I know what you are going through.' He looked into her eyes. Tears were welling up. He said 'I pity you.' Then, her anger got the better of her. 'Everybody gives me pity. You are his good friend, his well wisher. Do something. Talk to him. I do not want to be this miserable all my life.' she shouted. He looked at her, alarmed. And then, he took her hand in his, and held it firm, trying to calm her down. And she had leaned in, to lay her head on his shoulder, to calm herself. As she did so, a storm erupted somewhere inside her. And as he breathed, close to her head, in his rhythmic breathing, she heard him calling out to her. And she had responded, matching her rhythm to his rhythm.

Sitting in the study now, remembering the events of last night, her heart started racing. She got up, feeling suffocated, and ran outside. It was raining, heavily. Her husband shouted, 'Wretched woman! Why are you running into the rain? Are you mad?'. She did not respond. She just stood there, feeling the rain drops, which seemed to be trying to calm her down. He again said, 'Crazy woman, if you want to stand out there, at least wrap yourself in your bloody shawl. I hate to have you coughing and sneezing all over the house.' Then she turned to him, smiled, and said 'I lost the shawl... last night'.

14 comments:

  1. very nicely written, especially the ending!!
    You should start writing again on a regular basis :)

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  2. great work yaar...didn't know this aspect..:)

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  3. it is rare to see subtle threads and barbed wire woven together, like the one here. this is not writing, this is ... (i shall let this infinite pause complete my sentence)

    :)

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  4. Wow anupama, this is great writing. I could feel myself getting very involved into the story.

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  5. wow...simply awesome...too good to describe in words..i m floored :)

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  6. Awesome... :) Very nicely presented,short sentences,simple and killer.

    Nice stuff, very touchy, with flawless emotions.. :) Keep it up...

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  7. Nice writing yaar.... i will wait for next one...

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  8. rectifying a mistake by another big mistake,,,,,

    its difficult to digest

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  9. Someone has copied ur post

    http://crazyendeavours.blogspot.in/2013/08/the-storm-within.html

    ReplyDelete