I love to write fiction! This is a long story of two long lost friends/lovers/wavelength-mates (mmmm I am still not very sure about the soulmate thing). I hope you enjoy reading their story.
PS: I have added links to words that I felt non-Indians will not know the meaning of.
Prabha started to climb the stairs to get her mind off the present situation. She has been feeling this way for some time now. It was a shock to her that after 11 years, she just could not make herself care. She wanted a divorce.
Prabha was 36 years old. She was a chubby woman. Her kohled eyes were shining with unshed tears. With big lips, a refined nose, big almond eyes, and naturally curved eyebrows, Prabha was a beauty. After dragging herself till 4th floor, she could not move anymore. She stopped climbing and sat down on the stairs. Her orange dupatta was spread across the stair she was sitting on, obstructing passers-by. Oblivious to this, Prabha stared at the wall and let her inner video roll run. She’d tried. She’d tried to love her husband. She’d tried to make her life a happy one. She transformed into a talkative person just to fill the silence and keep the conversation going. She learnt to be a good wife. She learnt to cook. Well! Cleaning was definitely not her forte! She’d come to know. She kept herself busy, hoping to fill the gaps in her life with relationships with friends.
She had really tried. For her son’s sake, for her mother’s sake. Its just that there was no reciprocation. He never changed much in the past 11 years. He never tried to learn a new skill. Never tried the things that she loved to do. Never cared, and thought the wife was there to stay. Prabha wanted more. Because, people who knew her were expecting her husband to be as interesting like her; little did they know that she had another face, where she was boring, to fit into her marriage. But after 11 years of trying to make it work, she was tired. Even the sex was boring. What more is there that she can salvage? She thought. How can she try to somehow save her marriage, for her son’s sake? Her husband was surely a good father.
Maybe she should just see a counselor.
“Excuse me! Ma’am excuse me!”
Will her husband come with her? How can she convince him? ‘cause every time she mentions her troubles, he just brushes it off.
“Ma’am….” Now! who is interrupting her thoughts… Prabha turned to see.
A guy in a blue formal shirt was handing her dupatta that looked like it was dipped in mud.
“Your dupatta! Its quite dirty” he said. Just then the tears started to flow. Dupatta is dirty… How will she wash it? If it is wet, then how will it become dry? The AC is so cold in the cubicle. Damn it! She got the dupatta from the brown-eyed angel wearing a blue shirt and got up from the stairs and started to slip down the stairs somehow.
“Careful” the brown-eyed angel said and caught her.
“I am ok!” Prabha replied.
“where do you work?” he looked at her ID card as he asked this “XMR? 2 more floors to go. I’ll come with you”
Prabha thought whether her husband will help a woman this way. Nahh!! He’d be oblivious, talking in his phone.
“Its OK! I can go myself” Prabha said to the brown-eyed angel and he gave the most luminous smile she’d ever seen. Either her hormones are playing tricks on her or the tube light behind him is too bright. Either way, it was luminous.
“Come one!” he said and started to climb the stairs with her. Maybe she was a weirdo, but there was something attractive about men who just don’t listen, or she had somehow trained her brain that this is was a good quality. Then why the hell was the training not working with her husband?
“This is your office right? XMR…” the angel said in the manliest voice. And suddenly the sane part in her brain took over. OMG! she was having these thoughts about a stranger.
“ummm Thanks ang.. sir! Huh.. thanks… I am going now” Prabha blabbered and turned to leave.
“Take care” the angel said and started to climb the stairs 2 at a time. ‘So fit’ Prabha thought. ‘You’re married woman!’ her sane brain screamed, just then.
Work! She immediately shifted gears. She had a deliverable at 2:00 pm. Divorce can wait.
Vishva tried to start his car for the 6th time in vain. What is wrong with this vehicle. He serviced it just last weekend. It can’t be a sluggish engine. What was it? Great! He thought. He had to go to the supermarket. His wife was going to kill him. He picked up his phone and called his wife. No answer!
Shall I go home in a cab? Or shall I go to the market in a cab and book a cab from there? He looked at the package that had arrived that day, which he had placed in his back seat. It was a shoulder come knee massager. How the hell was he supposed to carry that back and forth. He could hear his wife say ‘I told you to buy it from the department store. Why did you buy it online?’
After a quick 3 seconds thinking, cab! home! Vishva decided. I can go to the supermarket tomorrow. He took his phone to book an uber and tried calling his wife. It was not reachable this time. Her phone has not been working fine since the day his son dropped it inside the sink. ‘have to buy her a new phone’ he made a mental note.
The uber showed that it was 15 mins away. Vishva called the mechanic and asked him to pick the car up from his office parking lot. I hope I won’t be fined for parking longer than 8 hours here. Should I leave the package here and just go to the super market. There was no sugar at home. They can of course manage with Vellam. He gave the car key to the building security and walked to the gate, carrying the massager and his laptop bag. The gate was a good 3 blocks away from the office entrance. It was late November and the air was chilly. Vishva placed the package near the sitting area and checked his phone. The cab was 7 mins away. Just then, he felt eyes on him and turned to look. Rhonda, the receptionist, said a blushing hi to him. “Hi Rhonda” Vishva replied.
“Your car needs repair?” Rhonda asked
“Yeah! Don’t know what is wrong.”
“You know! In your position, you can afford a high-end car. Why are still stuck with this?” she asked.
Vishva turned to look at her. With 6 feet tall and a toned body, Vishva was quite manly. His wheatish complexion, capsicum nose, bulging eyebrows and perfect bow shaped lips made sure he attracted the female eye.
“My upbringing is such… I can’t waste money” replied Vishva. Rhonda had flawless black skin and huge fish-like eyes. The twinkle in her eyes suggested she appreciated this trait. Vishva was used to attention wherever he went. He just threw his million dollar smile at Rhonda and turned to look at his phone. His uber had arrived. “Bye Rhonda” he said and couldn’t help but take an appreciative look at her long, long legs.
“Bye Vishva! Happy weekend, Rhonda replied” and sighed as she noticed his silky hair flowing back as he walked towards the gate.
Vishva tried to call his wife to give her a heads up and reduce his scolding time. It was still unreachable. The time in uber app showed that he will reach home in 10 mins. Maybe he will go the convenience store later to get sugar. He checked his WhatsApp. There were messages from Parvy. He stared at the phone for some time and put it into his bag. His office was located in a scenic place. There were small hills and wild greenery in the backdrop. The place looked heavenly with the November fog covering the top half of the hills. He’d promised his son that he will take him to the park in the evening. He wondered if it would be too cold. His son liked the slides. Will they be covered with dew drops? He had to find an indoor play area for winters.
The cab turned his street and stopped near his house. Vishva carefully removed the massager from the cab. The porch swing was swaying slowly to the slow-blowing wind. Vishva kept the package on the swing and opened the lock to his home’s main door. His wife should still be in the gym. Maybe he can run to the convenience store and buy all the necessities from the list. Anything to escape the scolding.
As he was entering, he could hear muzzled voices. Instinctively, he followed the voices. It led him to the laundry room, where his wife was sitting on the washing machine, her legs wrapping a white guy’s hips. They were kissing. Vishva stopped dead on his tracks.
He has read about situations like these. He has even heard some of his colleagues narrate such an incident. He has never imagined him to be in such a situation. No need right? He would never cheat.
He could not take his eyes off. He wanted to turn away. He felt nauseated. He kept staring and they kept kissing. Is this how a sex tape camera would feel? He thought suddenly. That’s an inanimate object you dumbo! He corrected himself. He then noticed that his wife was naked. Her exercise shorts were there outside the room’s door. Should I stop them? Should I shout, “how could you?” Should I just walk away and pretend I never saw this? What if I shout “I am here” form the main door. Where will this guy hide? Who is this guy? Why is he white? Is he white-white or Punjabi-white? Why is she sitting on a washing machine? What if it breaks! If I fight with her now, is the barbeque night cancelled. I love barbeque night. Can I still take my son to the park?
Do I have to get a divorce now? damn it! Was she using a condom! I hope she did not pass over any STDs to me.
“Hi Jaya!” Vishva said. And the couple turned to look at him. His friend Parvy was touching his wife’s breast, too shell-shocked to take it off. So! He’s Punjabi-white! Thought Vishva.
This is the first part of a long story.
Second part of the story: Long Story 2
Third part of the story: Long Story 3