Making space for oneself...and one another!

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They stood side by side, doing the dishes. The silence between them was pained, the air laden with the weight of things unsaid.  The sharp clanging sounds of steel and hard sloshing of water were punctuated by labored breaths. Every breath was like an exclamation, seemingly letting out that which could not be said, and that which was said so often as to lose all meaning.

His thoughts were like demons screaming inside his head, the fury exponentially increased by her inability to understand anything he said, his constant inability to make her see that which he knew was right.

Her mind was resigned, tired out by these frequent fights, the bouts of yelling that got so intense that they always stopped out of sheer physical tiredness than out of any mutual understanding.

They both felt lost. The years of marriage had dulled their individual identities to the point they no longer knew who they were; love was the furthest thing on their minds.

“I’m leaving” she said abruptly.

He started for a moment, but even that instinctive attempt at stopping her had lost its edge. He instead slammed a vessel to make his feelings known, and then stormed out and slammed the door to seal the deal.

She sat at the railway station with a solitary suitcase, an island amidst the din and hustle-bustle, her mind still too turbulent to register discomfort or insecurity at her situation; she was alone for the first time since her marriage. She couldn’t believe that she had done it; that she had taken that final step that had come out so often in her threats, that she was finally waiting for that train to take her away from everything she had. “He deserves it” she thought.

He sat alone at home, his concern for her well-being clouded by the dark thoughts swirling his head. “How could she do this” he fumed. She’s always complaining, yelling at me for things outside my control, chiding me for my behavior. I bury my own feelings and placate her time after time, and this is the reward I get.” As was always the case, he had to do something…a physical act was needed to vent out his feelings. He bolted the door shut and headed out, with no thoughts except that he had to get away from it all.

She looked out the window of the moving train. Her eyes were still swollen due to a somewhat sleepless night, but the intensity of last night’s pain had been dulled…the searing thoughts, the sharp anger replaced by a dull ache. She looked at the passing landscapes…the small towns, roads & bridges and small shops flashing by, city life slowly giving way to the earthy browns and greens of rural India. The train chugged along, with its steady rocking motion, forward and backward, forward and backward.  Her anger slowly receded, the acuteness of her thoughts fading as she lost herself to the blur of passing shrubs and the steady clatter of the railway track.

He sat on a stone ledge, sipping tea, looking at the world picking up pace in the slowly disappearing darkness. The overhead lamps still shone as an orange tinge spread on the horizon, and he watched the occasional car zipping by. As always, riding brought him solace, the constant blur of movement providing a soothing balm to the thoughts flashing past in his head. He had ridden with the recklessness of anger last night, oblivious to all but the urge to speed, venting his anger out on the road before him and the vehicles that he passed. He rode on in the darkness till the anger was replaced by a weary numbness, and there came a point he no longer knew why he was riding. With no thoughts of getting back to the city, he had stopped for the remainder of the night at a wayside lodge.   

With a night and a good part of the morning gone, the grumbling in her head slowly but steadily lost ground to the rumbling in her tummy. As she stopped a hawker selling “Chayee, Chayee, Garam idlee, Garam idlee” she wondered if he had eaten. She caught herself with a start. “It’s just out of habit” she scolded herself, but still her thoughts wandered back.  They had this joint, a little overcrowded nondescript café that they would frequent on lazy mornings. What it lacked in ambience and comfort, it made up for in taste. Soft fluffy idlis, a divine Chow Chow Bhath and piping hot filter coffee to top it off.  While they usually argued about what to eat, they were both passionate foodies. She would extol the merits of homemade food while he would talk about all the wonderful restaurants he visited as a child, stressing on the word “VisitED”. So she would drag him to health-food & sattvic restaurants while he grumbled about world-cuisine and fusion food. But once the food was served, they would usually forget the other’s presence and dig in like it was their last meal on earth. One of the things they always laughed about was how other couples wasted time talking at tables, and how the romance at a dinner should always be reserved for the food. “I hope the stupid idiot’s eaten” she thought again. “He can’t even cook by himself”

Fortified by the tea and the night’s rest, he felt his head clearing and for the first time wondered what he should do. He looked at his bike with some fondness; she had been his companion even in this dark hour. A Bullet is indeed a man’s first wife, he thought. He had been fond of travel since he was a kid, and used to take off on his own whenever he had the chance. He had always been a solitary creature but by his late twenties the loneliness had gotten to him. He would joke with his friends about finding a pillion for rides. While marriage was an uncertain concept at best, one of the things that had attracted him to her was her love for travel. She came off a conservative business family where she had been cared for and pampered all her life and she yearned for adventure. In a rush of exuberance, she had declared “all I want is to travel with you” which eased much of his concern.  That I can do, he thought. It’s the caring and pampering that were the alien concepts. “She’s probably gone and caught herself a train, the dumb thing” he figured “She can’t even book a flight ticket by herself”

The Kannada nameplates on stations gave way to Hindi and the idli to “Garam vade” as the train chugged northward.  Like most women, she couldn’t stop herself once she got into flashback mode. The concept of an isolated thought as alien to her as the phrase “emotional anchor” was to him. Lulled by the rocking of the train and the steady stream of food that passed by, she thought back to her life with him. She felt worn out by her daily chores, the unceasing repetitive thankless work of caring for someone (“especially someone like HIM” she thought). Whenever life got too mundane, he would propose a grandiose trip, usually somewhere into the mountains or some deserted beach or forsaken village. “Somewhere non-touristy” he would say. And she, swept away by the adventure and passion and sheer boldness of it all, would agree. And inevitably return a week or two later tanned and tired and wearier than when she had left.  But, she admitted grudgingly, I’ve seen stuff because of him. They had been scuba-diving in the Andamans, biking in Ladakh, trekking in Uttarakhand, backpacking in Sri Lanka and Malaysia. Terrified of water, she had begged him to spare her from the scuba-dive but went ahead just to shut him up from making fun of her “being a coward” and then immediately lost herself in the underwater world.  Even today, so many years later, the thought of being in that fascinating new world, swimming with the fishes and touching corals, the sound of her breathing heavy & amplified, the surface a distant, glistening ceiling, brought tears to her eyes. As did the sight of the first snow-clad majestic mountains after Rohtang pass. As did the taste of Maggi by the warmth of a crackling fire after a hard day’s trek. “I helped him so much on trips, too” she thought. “Which other girl would go through all this?? His friends always crib that they can’t take their wives anywhere!”

On the highway, he was seized by a hunch…which he usually was, being more or less the unplanned, impulsive type…and had a vague destination in mind. Hours of constant riding gave him a slight backache, and as he shifted around on the seat he thought back to how she, were she here, would give him a back massage. While it was true that the freedom that he so treasured was somewhat lacking…she was always making him brush his teeth and wash his hands and wear sunscreen and asking him to ride “a bit slower”, not to mention her obsession with healthy food…whoever heard of healthy roadside food anyway…she had guts as well. She had never complained about the long hours on the saddle or the breakdowns en-route. In fact she even assisted by flagging down passing motorists (“everyone stops for a woman” she would grin slyly) and getting them to help fix flat tires or broken cables. She was useful for bargaining for discounts in hotels, and she did tend to go into raptures on seeing picture-perfect landscapes as well. “If only she didn’t boast so much” he thought “always going on about she’s such a perfect pillion. Which other guy would take her traveling so much?? All her friends crib that they have such boring holidays!”

She thought back to her time in Ladakh, an eye-opener for her. About her time with villagers, staying in their homes and tents, drinking butter tea and eating flat noodles. The picture-perfect lakes under sapphire-blue skies and starry nights. She found her thoughts wandering back to their last anniversary. While it’s true he was a forgetful, disorganized, lazy guy, he did like to give her surprises. He had smuggled in a sheaf of colored papers the night before, and while she was out, he had made Origami flowers and placed them in different parts of the house with short clues, which finally led to her gift…a wristwatch. It was true that his notions of romance were storybook…he would keep buying her red roses despite repeated reminders that gladioli were much cheaper, bigger and prettier…and he NEVER bargained with the florist…but at least he got flowers once in a while. “And he keeps buying me those fancy creamy chocolate pastries” she thought “ when he knows I like the homemade organic cakes better!”

He thought back to Ladakh. It had been his life-long dream to go there. He had been apprehensive about taking her, but his fears had been mostly unfounded. She had loved the place and, although she kept using the word “adjusting” instead of “enjoying”, she never complained about the hardships. She’d loved the mountains and vast spaces and isolation as much as him. It’s not just the travel, he realized ruefully. While she did tend to be stern & motherly at times…and god how she fought…typical North Indian…she did take amazing care of him at home. His life was planned and orderly, he always had healthy tasty food and….let’s face it…frantically hunting for clean underwear on a Monday morning is not the most pleasant of tasks.

Her feelings now assuaged by distance and, having found some much needed time for introspection, even if it had to be as a runaway on a train, she realized that her life wasn’t that bad, after all. Sure, he wasn’t an emotional anchor…he probably didn’t even know what it meant…she didn’t have the comfortable life of security with him that she sometimes yearned for…but marriage was a package deal. You got the good with the bad. She gave another start, this time with a laugh, as she realized she had actually quoted him. He may be a disorganized unthinking idiot but there’s no denying that he had a good heart, either. He was always telling her to forgive past errors and to see the good in people. He wasn’t political or scheming, gave her all the freedom she needed (“even when freedom is sometimes the last thing I want” she thought dryly) and with him…she had a LIFE. She had someone who genuinely cared, even if he never knew how to show it.

She woke from her musings with a start, as the train screeched to a halt at Kolkata. Nervous for the first time since she left Bangalore, she looked around. God, the station had changed so much! She had stormed off with a vague inclination to take a train to Kolkata as it was her hometown, but now she was unsure of her next step. She realized it would probably be silly to go crying to her father’s house having given him no prior intimation. And the explanations that would need to be made and all the drama it would cause with the relatives!

As she stepped out, looking around hesitantly and wondering what do to do next, her phone rang. It was him! She was flooded with mixed emotions, relief at having a known voice to talk to, coupled with quickly resurfacing anger that she was in this position because of him. She wondered if he would apologize or yell at her, probably both, she thought.

“Glad you reached Kolkata safely. Can we go home now?”

“What…how?? How do you know?” she spluttered, spinning around, looking frantically to see if he was there.

And then she saw him. In his riding jacket, grimy, hair full of dirt, helmet in one hand and phone in the other, visibly tired but grinning like a Cheshire cat.

She stared at him, wondering if this was a hallucination. Biting back her tears, she exclaimed “How did you get here?? Don’t tell me you rode all the way!”

“Obviously I rode. How else would I come?” And, with a hint of tears himself “See how far I had to go to get closer to you!”

 “But how did you know I was going to Kolkata?”

“Where else would you go? You’re always being melodramatic about running off to your dad’s place and all. "And besides it’s a safe bet. You don’t know even know the names of any other places” He paused and grinned “Except maybe Ladakh.”

“Why the hell couldn’t you just have called me?? What if you’d had an accident?? And you’re smelly. You haven’t even had a bath.”

“Well, I’ve always kind of wanted to do an Iron Butt ride. Not possible with you complaining all the time. So I thought I’d kill two birds with one stone” There was that maddening grin again, plastered on his face, like he knew he’d done something great.

“So what now? We can’t just go back riding all the way” And then, a bit hesitantly ”Do you want to go to my father’s place? But it’ll be weird. See, you have to create all these issues for me.”

“I have a better idea. Why not go to Meghalaya instead?”

“Huh?? What? Meghalaya?? Why would I want to go to Meghalaya now? I just spent 2 days on a train. Because of you!”

“It’s only 2 days ride from here. We can rest for a day and go. We’ve always wanted to see Meghalaya. Did you know it’s got this place called Mawlynnong? It’s the cleanest, prettiest village in the world. ” He said with a wink “You’ll love it.”

Still blinking back her tears, she tried hard not to smile “Why would I want to go with you? I can go with anyone. I’m a woman, you know! Anyone would take a woman like me”

“Not if the woman’s always telling them to clean their tongue and have a bath and wash their feet.”

“Oh shut up! Let’s go find a hotel and have a bath so I can give you a hug!”