The Mona Lisa Smile

 

Sanjana was like a sunflower that bloomed in the light of love and approval. She could do so much more if he only approved. But all she heard was criticism from her spouse.

“Sanjana, you spend too much on useless things.”

“Perhaps you should do something more than just socializing. There are things called books and reading, you know…”

“You should work.”

“You should cook yourself and not keep a full time maid. You are growing fat doing nothing.”

“What do you do the whole day in the house?”

Sanjana had been married for more than two decades. She had been an accomplished dancer. But, her mother-in-law did not want her to perform on stage. At 22, when she married, she had wept to give up her bells. Her heart had split into two. But her mother explained, “You will now have to shift your focus to your home and family. Dancing may ruin your chances of having a child.”

“But that has been my life, Ma,” wept Sanjana.

“It cannot be helped. At least, they agreed to the marriage. The boy is back from USA with a degree in law. They do not want a dowry. The last match broke. That boy had a girl friend in New York. We cannot turn down this one.”

Sanjana’s heart was breaking with sorrow, fear and apprehension. She did not want to marry the boy. She loved another, but her parents refused to listen. “Abhishek is not worthy of you,” her father said.

And Abhishek’s mother said, “The beggars! They have set that witch on my Abhishek… they are of a lower caste. How dare they set their eyes on my son?”

Abhishek had proposed to Sanjana.

“Let us elope,” he said. Abhishek was a young doctor with a bright future. Sanjana was not sure what to do. She refused.

She had thought Abhishek would propose again with an eye to winning her parents approval. Instead, he eloped with a minister’s daughter who was willing…

Sanjana was left in the cold.

Her parents really mattered to her. She had wanted to keep them happy. She gave up her dancing bells for a lawyer who married her under duress from his family. He did not love her either.

After twenty-one years of marriage and a child, Sanjana sat in front of a sheaf of papers and, with trembling hands, signed on them. Suresh, her husband, was leaving her. He had had enough! He was going to marry his secretary who understood law and was smart and pretty.

Sanjana had started to put on weight after she stopped dancing. A few more kilos were added on after childbirth. Her legs and back ached as she walked. Often, she needed pain killers. Her son was in hostel in Berkley.

Suresh was what they called ‘a stud’ when he married Sanjana. He wanted a docile bride but not an unsmart one. Sanjana did not quiet make the cut. Her English was not that great. She did not read much. It was an embarrassment to take her for his client’s parties. She did not drink and sat quietly in a corner.

Suresh had married her at his mother’s insistence. Now, his mother was no more. He did not need her. He had never taken her out on his own. She was always curled and quiet. Sonia, his secretary understood his every need and loved him passionately. Suresh did the decent thing in his opinion and promised to pay for her upkeep and that of his son. Sanjana could continue to stay in their old home. Suresh and Sonia would move into a new condominium with fantastic club facilities.

Sanjana nodded quietly. She accepted everything that came her way as a docile and a good wife should…even the shame she experienced at being rejected.

But what would she do in a huge home alone with a gardener, maid and driver?

A month after Suresh left, she invited her old school friend Romila to spend the day with her.

Romila had married and gone off to USA with her husband. She returned a widow with no children after five years. Her husband, a high-end tycoon, had succumbed to a massive heart attack. Romila was initially very sad and depressed. Over time, she picked up the pieces and built a life for herself. Money was not an issue for her either. She established herself as a trainer and image builder with a chain of beauty stores. Sanjana and she met accidentally at the Shiva temple one day. Sanjana recognized her and called out. Romila took a while to recognize her.

“What have you done to yourself?” Romila asked. “You were so pretty and such a great dancer. What happened to you?”

“Aging,” responded Sanjana.

“That even I have aged. But you are looking old and sad. What’s up sweetheart?”

“Nothing.”

“I thought you were happily married…”

“No more. My husband left me.”

“What?!”

“He divorced me last month… I live alone and my son is in hostel in USA!” And Sanjana broke down and cried. With her pallu stuffed into her mouth she wept as if her heart would burst.

Romila put her arms around her shoulder and said, “Calm down… I am sorry I asked… I remember your wedding. It was so grand! Calm down… I am really so sorry… come with me to my house and we will sit and talk. I am alone too… Have been alone for long… Come…come.”

Romila led a weeping Sanjana into her car, gave her address to the driver and asked him to drive to her home, which was nearby. Romila had walked to the temple as she did every morning. Sanjana had come to seek spiritual solace in what she felt was her hour of shame and rejection.

She had not been able to eat and sleep properly from the day her husband left her. She thought it was all her fault… she was not good enough for him. He was in the right and had been decent, he had said.

Her son was twenty and studying engineering in Berkley. He was the result of the carnal pleasures of her wedding night. She was so lovely that Suresh had no hesitation asserting his conjugal rights. Sanjana was in a state of shock! But, like a docile bride, she had complied. He continued asserting his conjugal rights every night till her pregnancy was confirmed. During the day, he treated her with disdain. He did not even talk to her properly.

Her mother-in-law, Lata, was pleased with the state of things.

“You are a good daughter-in-law. A woman’s relationship is always best maintained with her husband behind the closed doors of the bedroom at night. And now you will give us an heir.”

And that is exactly what happened. Sanjana had a son. Her mother-in-law named him Sourabh. She had no say in choosing the name of her son. She did not mind.

Her husband had grown even more detached towards her as during her pregnancy as the doctor had warned him not to assert his conjugal rights till after the birth of the child. It could endanger the life of the child he had been warned. He started working late and often came home after dinner as he said he was busy. Sometimes, he came home reeking of alcohol because he had to drink in parties, he said.

He never took Sanjana with him after the first time. She had proven that she could not fit in into a party right after their marriage. He had taken her for a party organized by his friends for the newly weds. She wore a saree, sat in a corner and refused to drink or dance with his friends to western music. He found her behavior unacceptable.

His mother was very sympathetic towards Suresh.

She told Sanjana, “You must look after all his needs. Remember, he is your lord and master and women are but servants of their husbands.”

Sanjana kept her head covered with the pallu of her saree and complied with all these injunctions. Lata praised her to her neighbors and friends.

“My daughter-in-law is truly a Lakshmi and Sita. She is so docile and good. She follows all the rules, does all the work and never disturbs my son. His income has also gone up. Sometimes, he even goes to London on work.”

Suresh and his secretary had gone to London for two weeks. Suresh told them he was going on tour to London, but omitted the fact that Sonia would accompany him.

Saurabh grew up, nurtured by his grandmother and mother. He loved both very much, maybe Sanjana a little more. Sanjana helped him with his schoolwork. She had a good head for maths and science. He excelled in both. When he came in the merit list in his grade twelve exam, his father was very proud of him. “He is just like me,” he declared. “I will send him to USA for further studies.”

No one asked the women who brought him up or the boy what he wanted.

The boy had learnt compliance to his father’s wishes was the accepted way of life. He was a good boy. He complied.

That his mother and grandmother missed him and were heartbroken when he left for Berkley with his dad to settle him in was not a major issue. Sonia flew down after a few days because she needed to ‘help’ Suresh attend a lawyer’s conference in Los Angeles. When he came back, he found his mother sick. She was sore for missing her grandson.

Saurabh came home the next year in June. His grandmother was bed ridden and he was sad to see her as such. After he returned in September, she became more sick. At last, she left Sanjana all alone. Lata had departed for her heavenly abode. Suresh could not fathom the emptiness in Sanjana’s life. She had become fatter, quieter and greyer. With his mother dead and his son in university, Suresh felt the time had come to assert his freedom. He was ready for the next step… divorce.

It came as a shock to Sanjana. Saurabh was not informed. Suresh had told Sanjana to refrain from expressing their separation to him. “It might disturb him,” he reasoned. “ And in any case, he calls you up at home. You are going to continue here. Only I will move out. I will pay all your and his bills. But I think since we have nothing in common, it will be best this way.”

Sanjana had accepted her sad luck with a guilty, downcast face.

She could not figure out what went wrong, why she had to face such dishonor? She did not even tell her sister who lived in London. Her brother had moved to Cape Town in South Africa and her parents went with him. She did not tell them either.

Then, why this sudden breakdown before a friend?

Romila was very kind and sympathetic. She had heard Sanjana’s story and shared her own saga. “My husband was kind and caring and I was heartbroken. I also knew he would hate to see me sad and broken. So, I pulled myself together and made a life for myself back home. The love he cherished on me and his memories has sustained me for the rest of my journey in life,” she concluded with a sad smile.

Sanjana said, “You were lucky to have his love.”

“You are lucky to have had a son and your child’s love. And you must pull yourself together for your son’s sake,” retorted Romila. “ I will come over to your house tomorrow. And we will spend the day together, mapping out a new start for you.”

When Sanjana returned home, her heart felt lighter and she could even watch a dance performance on television without crying once…something she had not been able to do since Suresh announced his decision to leave her.

The next day Romila came in her jogging suit with a gift for Sanjana. When Santana unwrapped the gift, she found a jogging suit and sneakers! Romila had remembered that they could fit into each other’s shoes and slippers.

“ I cannot jog! I am too old and fat. I have a backache!” said Santana.

“It is triple XL. You can fit in. We will not jog. We will walk, “said Romila.

“What is the use of losing weight now?”

“ Why not? We are still not old… get back to dancing!”

“ I can’t anymore.”

“Why not? You are only in 43… you can open a dance school. I will help you. Actually, it would help my trade too!”

Sanjana was still not convinced.

“Please you could be the big story in my career. I have nothing else except that to live by… you know that,” asserted Romila.

Romila went on till Sanjana agreed to walk with her twice a day.

Three months passed by. Every morning Romila took Sanjana out. They had started jogging now. Sanjana was regaining her shape and her aches and pains had reduced. Romila had put her on a low carb diet, taken her to a beautician and had her hair cut and colored. Sanjana had started dancing a little now. She sought out her guru again, acquired a pair of bells and went for regular classes in kathak.

All this while, Suresh had paid her bills and talked on phone when absolutely necessary. He and Sonia had gone on a tour of Europe to celebrate the start of their life together. He had never been on a honeymoon with Sanjana. They had always stayed at home. Suresh travelled alone or with Sonia while he was married to Sanjana. Sanjana had never lived anywhere else except for her mother-in-law’s home for all the twenty-one years of her married life… and now she continued in the same place. Suresh went to USA on a business meet with Sonia and met Suarabh. He had still not told Saurabh about his divorce. Saurabh wanted to do a summer internship in Berkley during the holidays. Suresh encouraged him and promised to visit him with his mother.

Back in India, he called up Sanjana, “Saurabh will not come to India this year. We will visit him. I have not yet told him about our divorce. There is no need to disturb him. We will get your passport made and visit him in August.”

Sanjana complied as always.

By now, the fruits of Romila’s and her hardwork had started blossoming. Sanjana was looking good and younger than her age. She had started helping her old guru teach dancing. She was happier than she had ever been in the last two decades.

Suresh told her to get her passport photograph taken. He wanted her to send it to his office with the driver. She complied. The completed form was sent to her and she signed. The efficient Sonia had overseen all the details. Suresh was not bothered by such small details.

Her passport was ready.

July… Sanjana went shopping with Romila. She was looking very good now. Sanjana was more confident than she had ever been in her life. She was dancing, even though not on stage.

Finally, Sanjana was in the car on the way to the airport. The car stopped in front of Suresh’s house. Sonia was not coming this time.

Suresh stepped into the car and closed the door. He had not turned to look at Sanjana, who was seated in the corner in the dark.

Then he saw her.

“Sanjana?!” Suresh exclaimed with surprise.

He looked at her spell bound.

Sanjana smiled at him and said, “Yes?”

“You are looking good! What have you done to yourself?”

“Nothing.”

“You cut your hair.”

“Yes.”

“You look good. You are wearing pants…I have never seen you in anything except sarees!”

“Jeans. They are convenient for travel. You have never taken me anywhere with you till now.”

Suresh stared at her open-mouthed.

Earlier she would keep quiet and nod shyly. Now she spoke.

In the brightly lit airport, he could see she had make up on and looked very good. Young men turned to look at her as she pushed her trolley.

Suresh was stunned!

She had got her figure back.

“You have lost weight and your hair is brown!” Suresh stuttered.

“Yes. I am dancing and I color my hair,” smiled Sanjana.

When they went to the counter, Suresh asked for two seats together.

He kept looking at her as if to make sure everything was all right. When Sanjana took out a Dan Brown to read, Suresh blurted out, “So, you are reading too…”

“Yes. I never figured out how much fun it is to read thrillers. A friend introduced me to Dan Brown and I cannot stop reading his books!”

Suresh watched her asleep. How beautiful she looked, prettier than when he had married her. He would have loved to touch her, to have her as his wife again. He had been a bit peeved with Sonia of late…She was always nagging him for things the way Sanjana never had… maybe they could get back together. He had never married Sonia… Sonia wanted him to formalize their relationship with a wedding ring. He had pleaded Saurabh’s reaction… Sonia still nagged…

Maybe, he could ask her when she woke up… meanwhile, he gazed at her and then tried to read.

Sanjana’s eyes fluttered and she sat up.

Suresh looked at her and smiled. She had always been putty in his hands. Maybe, he would ask her soon…

She would surely agree! She had always agreed to anything he said… even the divorce…

Suresh waited for Sanjana to be fully awake.

Then, he smiled at her.

She smiled back.

“Feeling refreshed?” he asked.

Sanjana nodded.

“I have been thinking things through while you slept. Saurabh does not know we have separated. If we get back together, he will never know of the rift.”

“What do you mean?” asked Sanjana.

“I mean we can terminate our divorce and stay married forever.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Sanjana we could go back to being together and, if you want, we can remarry when we return.”

“Why?”

Suresh could not believe his ears.

“What are you saying? You do not want to stay married to me?”

“I am not married to you any more. I am having too good a time now to think of tying a knot.”

“Are you saying you do not want me?”

Sanjana looked at him and gave an enigmatic smile in the tradition of Da Vinci’s Mona Lisa.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Stepmother

Shweta washed her hands repeatedly. Yet, she could not rinse off the stench of death. She had helped straighten the body, the body no one seemed to want to touch…the body of her great grandmother, Shamaboti…

Shamaboti had in her own way loved Shweta very much. She always encouraged Shweta to be an independent and free entity… ready to launch out on her own at any point. And that is exactly what Shweta had done. She had just started working as a journalist and did not want to marry or have a boy friend. She had big dreams, encouraged most of all by Shamaboti. Her dreams included walking on the Great Wall and writing a book on it! Perhaps, she would do a book on many ancient wonders of the world… go to Easter Island, check out the pyramids in Egypt, maybe also Macchu Pichhu… travel to the Arctic… And all the time she would write.

Shweta loved her great grandmother but not enough to weep broken-heartedly. Probably, out of all the great grandchildren, she loved Shamaboti the most. What most amazed her was Shamaboti’s life! Perhaps she could research and write about it eventually…

Shamaboti Devi was born just before the turn of the twentieth century into a Kulin Brahmin family, the creme-de-la- creme of the chosen ones, the most prized of all castes. Her father was a Kulin Brahmin. He had had more than a dozen wives and made a living by marrying as many women as were willing with a fees. Shamaboti saw her father once every two years, when he came to visit her mother, one of his umpteen wives. His job as a high caste Kulin Brahmin was to impregnate as many women as he could marry with seeds of high caste Brahminism to further propagate his clan and collect money from his in-laws for saving their daughters from the misfortune of spinsterhood. Her father never bought his wife or daughter a present but was always given presents by his in-laws, who maintained his wife and daughter for him.

There were many like him that progressives, such as Ishwar Chandra Vidyasagar, the Tagore family and others, among them some belonging to Kulin clans too, were trying their best to oppose and reform. What had started as a mechanism to retain cultural integrity had been reduced to a corrupt ritual where a sixty-year-old man could be paid to marry a six-year-old girl!

Shamaboti’s mother was married a little late…when she was already past puberty and she had her daughter about four years later. Her father was of an undefined age, which was accepted, as he was a man.

Shamaboti was considered a pretty young girl. She was plump and fair. Youth had loaned her a supple grace.

Shamaboti didnot know her exact age or birthdate, which is why no one knew what her age was when she died. They estimated it was over ninety.

Shamaboti told her great (step) grandchildren stories of her childhood. Most of her stories were centered around how she had fun climbing trees but got scolded for ruining her sarees in the process. She also spoke of hiding raw mangoes in the folds of her saree and eating them on the sly.

When she related these stories, all her great grand children, with the exception of Shweta, reacted with giggles! They could not dream of climbing trees in sarees as such wear was old fashioned and cumbersome. It was the age of hot pants!

Shweta, always a dreamer, wondered what life was like then…a century ago…

Shamaboti played with her cousins till she reached the ripe old age of five or six. Then she was channeled to learn household chores and to work like a spare maid in her uncle’s home. She did wander off to climb trees and pluck a fruit or read a Bengali book hidden behind some furniture, when she had time. She used to read on the sly because it was given out by her aunts that if you read, you would lose your feminity and no man wanted a clever wife!

Shamaboti loved to hear or read a good story… She had learnt to read and write from her cousin and playmate, Dulal.

Life jogged on till one day she heard she was getting married. She thought it was a wonderful thing because at last she would leave her uncle’s home to go to that of her husband! She was so much luckier than her mother as her husband would be only hers and no other woman’s! She had never gone out of the village… now, she would live in Calcutta, the big city…

Oh what dreams the young girl had! She heard Anirvan was handsome and dashing.

At last, she would be a queen in her own home. How delighted was Shamaboti!

Anirvan married Shamaboti and brought her home. On the boat that took them away from her village, Anirvan told her that she had two step sons to care for and he expected her to be a good mother. Shamaboti merely inclined her head and accepted… She said nothing.

When they alighted at his home, he showed her a painting of a woman on a horse and said , “ That is your elder sister Ambalika. She had two sons. The boys lost their mother at a young age.”

Then he said, “Come I will show you the kitchen and your sons.”

He took her to an adjoining room where two young boys were playing with toy soldiers. “Come here boys,”said the father. “This is your new mother. And this is Rajkrishna and this is Shyamol. Look after them well.”Rajkrishna being the elder of the two came forward and paid his respects by touching her feet. Shyamol followed. But they did not smile at her once! She smiled but there was no response…

Anirvan turned to her and said, “I will stay in my room and pray. My prayers should not be disturbed. You can sleep with the children.”

Shamaboti was stunned. But she said nothing. She just accepted. It was a woman’s job to adapt to every situation, she had been taught well by her mother. She spent her wedding night with her two step sons. The boys were not too friendly. She spread a mat on the floor and slept.

What Shamaboti had not been told was Anirvan had a past and that is what he lived by…

His past was the delightful Ambalika, his first wife. Ambalika was a beautiful, talented woman who at the turn of the century rode horses and spoke, read and wrote in seven languages.

Anirvan was besotted by the clever Ambalika the first day he saw her riding with her father. Her father was a well-known intellectual who had leanings towards Brahmoism, a Hindu reformist movement started by Rammohan Roy in the eighteenth century. Ambalika played the piano and sang like a lark. She knew English ballads taught by her British governess.

Anirvan, an orphan but still a rich father’s son, had no difficulty in marrying the woman of his dreams. Ambalika’s father was liberal enough to overlook the fact that Anirvan was not a Brahmo. And Anirvan didnot care what the Hindu pundits said about marrying a Brahmo. Their married life was idyllic. The social ostracism they faced from the more conventional Brahmos and Hindus drew them closer to each other. They had more than enough to live like kings and have a wonderful life. Money rubbed away the edges of social criticism. After two idyllic years, Ambalika gave birth to a son, Rajkrishna.

Rajkrishna was Shweta’s grandfather. He had an affluent start in life but when he was four-years-old, not only was his mother expecting a new baby but his father’s fortunes collapsed. The two ships owned by him sank at sea with expensive cargo on board. He had to repay the traders. He lost a lot of money and had a tough time running his home. He had to sell off his horses and the expensive paintings from his walls. Lot of his staff who ran his home had to go. They were left with only an old man and the woman who looked after Rajkrishna. No one knows if it was the shock of becoming penurious or the travails of childbirth that took Ambalika to her heavenly abode two days after the birth of her younger son.

Anirvan was stunned with grief. He took to locking himself up in his room and praying all the time. He turned to religious rituals and the Almighty in his sorrow and forgot he had two little children to rear. For sometime, the two servants took care of the household and children but when money wore itself thin, they started finding it difficult to manage. The woman left. Anirvan hired a new man.

Anirvan’s distant cousin who saw his state of finances and inability to make ends meet or bring up children, recommended he rent out rooms to tenants to have enough to put food on the table and the children, through schooling. He also recommended a second marriage as a last resort. The wife could run the house, supervise the servants, cook and look after the children. Then, he could stay with his prayers all the time. For sometime, Anirvan refused to think of marriage. He just rented out some rooms to three families in his enormous family mansion. He found it trying to associate with these families, to collect rentals and to keep an eye on the children. Finally, irritated by having to interact with tenants, children and the needs of the new inefficient manservant, he realized the house needed managing. He agreed to marry.

He had not even seen Shamaboti once before the marriage. He was not interested in having a wife. He only needed someone to keep the house in order and to bring up his children.

Shamaboti’s husband hardly spoke to her. Eventually, after a few years, he faded to death. Shamaboti, in her twenties, wore the garb of a widow, managed the finances of the house, looked after the two boys and had a passion for books and cards. She played cards with the tenants’ wives every afternoon and bought a few books. She was there for the boys, though they resented the fact that she was their stepmother. Eventually, the boys completed their university, started working and got married.

Rajkrishna did well and had four children, two daughter and two sons. He sold his ancestral mansion and split the money with his brother and built a beautiful house in New Delhi, where he worked as a senior director in The Reserve Bank. His brother worked and built a house in Bombay.

Rajkrishna’s eldest son was Shweta’s father.

Rajkrishna took charge of looking after his stepmother though he did not like her much. Shyamol did not want to take charge as his wife hated the old woman. Everytime Shamaboti visited Bombay, her younger daughter-in-law would be rude and she returned early to Rajkrishna. Rajkrishna’s wife, Preeti, was loving and kind and felt sorry for the old woman, who for no fault of hers was criticised by others for being a stepmother… Preeti loved her husband very much and understood his obligations to his stepmother. But, for most others, Shamaboti remained quintessentially the stepmother, who was never loved by her husband or stepsons. She was criticised for being unloved!

That was the part Shweta could not figure out, had she been given a chance to be anything else other than an unwanted stepmother? Would anyone in the current day ever accept the role as placidly as Shamaboti had?

Shamaboti Devi grew old and started withering in front of Shweta’s eyes after her stepsons died of cancer and heart attack, respectively. She did not weep for her stepsons but just started shrinking… She lay on her bed, had to be fed and bathed. A nurse was maintained for her by Shweta’s father. Shamaboti did not want to die. She could still read. She was in the middle of an exciting new thriller and there were more to come… She hung on. She grew frailer and wheezed while breathing. She found it difficult to read. The nurse, Shweta and her mother took turns to read to her.

One day, she died while listening to a story.

Shweta helped straighten her corpse and could not forget the sensation. It was cold and rigid. The smell of death haunted her nostrils for days.

Her relatives had no time for the funeral.

Her father, grandmother, mother and Shweta conducted the rituals for the dead. It was all rather muted. No one had the time to mourn.

After a fortnight, Shweta was told by the family lawyer that Shamaboti had left behind a will of which she was the sole beneficiary. Everyone was amazed, except Preeti who had helped call in the lawyer and witnessed the will that was made. In it, Shamaboti had left behind all her jewellery and a diary that she maintained when she got married and while she was bringing up the boys for Shweta! Her heavy gold jewellery was worth more than twenty lakhs… Shweta had no use for it but she kept it in a locker in the bank for sentimental reasons…

The diary was a real gem for her. She sat and read the diary of the woman who was mourned by none… In it she found a woman of passions who, despite all her docile training, yearned to explore the world outside as much as her step great grand daughter…Here was a woman who had fallen in love , even if the love was never requited, a woman who did her best for her step sons and a woman who married her elder step son to an educated girl… one who had finished higher secondary in days when girls were married, having passed just grade eight. Preeti confirmed she finished school before she married and her mother-in-law had insisted on that!

Shweta, the inheritor of the diary, wrote a book and published it with the help of her editor. It became a prize winning best seller.

As Shweta stepped down from the dias after receiving the Sahitya Akademi award, she pondered over the strange life of her great grandmother…

She wondered if she would have got this award or would she herself  have existed if Shamaboti did not come into her great grandfather’s life…Was it a life wasted, thrown away or lived to the full? Did anyone ever love her? Did she ever feel the lack of love in her life?

A tear formed at the edge of Shweta’s eyes.

 

 

The Storm

A shooting star zipped across the sky, studded with pinpricks of lights that twinkled against the blackness of the velvety night, a night that throbbed with music on the lawns of the exclusive club where Dolon and Suresh were celebrating their silver wedding anniversary. The star went unnoticed by all except a figure that sat at a distance wrapped in what seemed an extension of the night sky, a sinuous black sari speckled with tiny silver spangles. The figure smiled with happy thoughts and perhaps made a wish as the shooting star disappeared into oblivion.

The sumptuous party with turbaned waiters and long white tables swung in it’s own beat. Guests draped in expensive saris, suits, jewelry and perfume expressed their satisfaction with the opulence of the affair. Besides Dolon and Suresh, stood their daughter, Brishti, and son, Sreshth. Brishti’s fiance, Arjun, came and whispered in her ears. Brishti gave a shy smile and looked at her parents. Dolon smiled and the young couple took off towards the dance floor, a little raised stage in the middle of the lawn where the younger moved to music.

“ I think all the guests are here except for Subir da. He is late as usual,” said Suresh.

“ Then let us go and mingle,” said Dolon.

“I am off to my gang then,” said Sresht and went off to a gaggle of young men talking and laughing.

Dolon and Suresh went first to the woman in black, the star gazer who occupied a chair near the entrance of the party. She had a face similar to that of Dolon but looked a little older.

“Didi, I am so glad you could come all the way,” said Dolon to her elder sister, Damayanti.

“And how would I not? On such an important occassion…” said Damayanti with a smile. Suresh came and touched her feet. She blessed the couple from the bottom of her heart.

“Go and mingle with the others. I will sit here and wait for Subir. He is late as usual,” said Damayanti with an indulgent smile. Subir was her husband. She was five years older to Dolon and her only daughter, Sreya, was married and living in South Africa.

Damayanti sighed and gazed at the figures of her sister and brother-in-law moving among the guests. How happy they looked together, happier than her and Subir, whose inability to be in time distressed her! And yet, she could not help but recall that night almost fifteen years ago, a day after her sister’s wedding anniversary celebration, when she got that horrifying call that Dolon had slashed her wrist and was hospitalized…

She would never forget the nightmare. Subir and she had driven recklessly from their home to the nursing home. It was surreal for her. Her lively younger sister Dolon… the one who always smiled, was always so sure of herself, always got her way, was so strong to oppose wrongs to women, to children , to anyone, was so loyal in love… why would such a positive and strong person try to commit suicide?

At the nursing home, their father, Harihar, was pacing up and down. The young children were clinging to Seema, their grandmother. But, where was Suresh and why had all this happened?

After a few hours, Dolon regained consciousness. The family were allowed in one by one and asked to be quiet. The children went in with their grandmother. Then the rest followed slowly. The doctors asked them not to talk to her or agitate her in any way.

What had happened? That was the question on everyone’s mind but no one dared ask. And why was Suresh not there?

Harihar had received a call from the housekeeper that her madam was lying in a pool of blood and the children were crying with fear… Harihar instantly called a private ambulance and rushed her to the nearest nursing home. He was also not clear what had happened… and why they couldnot find Suresh anywhere.

No one wanted to question Dolon much…

Brishti and Shresht went to their grandparent’s home from the nursing home. Brishti said Dolon had asked them to go to their room when Suresh mentioned he wanted to talk to her alone. Then they spoke and their voices became loud and incoherent. The door banged shut. The children could hear Dolon crying as if her heart would rend. Slowly, the weeping seemed to stop. And then they heard a scream from the housekeeper. They came running out of their room to find their mother with her wrist cut. The housekeeper called up Suresh immediately. Suresh’s phone was switched off. So, she called Harihar. The arguement had happened while she was in the market. When she returned, Dolon had been weeping in her room and Suresh was missing and the kids were in their room. She only came into the room when the weeping almost ceased thinking Dolon had calmed down. Instead, she found her lying in a pool of blood.

From the nursing home, Dolon also came to her parental home. She was very depressed and quiet. The doctors had prescribed anti-depressants. No one dared question Dolon. Harihar continued to call Suresh but his phone was still switched off!

Damayanti, Subir and Sreya temporarily moved into Harihar’s home to try and ease the situation. Also Dolon was closest to her sister. Everyone was hoping she would tell her what had happened.

After two days, Harihar had a call from Suresh. Suresh had returned home after two days, unkempt, unshaven and heard the story of Dolon’s wrist slashing from the housekeeper. He wanted to talk to Dolon. Harihar asked him to come over and explain what had happened. Suresh came, looking unkempt, anxious and abashed. He first wanted to talk to Dolon. But Dolon didnot want to talk to him or see him.

“What is the matter? Will one of you tell me what has happened? Why Dolon had to resort to such extreme measures?”said Harihar with impatience.

Suresh found it difficult to say anything. He just left.

The evening of the day Suresh visited them, Dolon opened up to Damayanti, “He wanted to leave me and go with his secretary… It seems she has been in love with him from the first day she saw him… whereas he thinks I have no time for him… I love him so much. Life has no meaning without him. I married him to spend the rest of my life with him…where did I go wrong Didi? …It really hurts…I was only looking after the kids and home. I have always been there for him… He is the one who is always busy. He has no time for the kids or me… He doesnot know the kids’ teachers or friends. He sees us only on weekends practically. He is always taking clients out for dinner and getting home near midnight… he is the one who spends more time with his secretary and work than with any of us…yet, we have never complained…”

Damayanti was furious, “Divorce him! Divorce him this instance… we told you not to marry the orphan…but you still did. And now…” Suresh was an orphan. He was brought up by his aunt, who died before Dolon met him. She knew him for twelve years before she slashed her wrists.

“My life is over,”said Dolon. “Why did you save me?”

“What about the kids?” Said Damayanti. “If you and Suresh think only of yourselves, what of the kids?”

Harihar was furious too, “He is banned from coming here! Dolon will divorce him”

But when the kids left for school the next day, the bell did ring. And there was Suresh.

“Get out!”said Harihar.

Suresh forced his way in despite that.

“Please let me see Dolon once,” he begged. “I will go away forever if she wants after that. Please let me apologize. I was wrong. I do love her.”

Dolon came in.

Everyone was silent.

“Do you really?” asked Dolon. “Then why did you say all those things and disappear not letting me have my say…”

“I was confused…I cannot live without you…Please give me another chance. I will be a good father and husband. I will change my ways. Please, please Dolon I beg you.”He knelt. He bowed his head and pleaded.

Dolon said, “Okay. One more chance is all I will give and then if it happens again, I will leave, not die, with the kids.”

“No Dolon. Do not believe him,”said Damayanti.

“He will hurt you again,”said her Seema.

“He is not worthy of you,”said Harihar.

Subir, who had just returned after dropping the children to school, collared Suresh, “If you come near us again, I will hand you to the police.”

“Stop.”shouted Dolon. “For my sake stop.”

Subir let Suresh go.

Dolon deliberately walked over to her husband. She held his hand and said, “Let’s go.”

Brishti and Shresht returned home that weekend. And Subir and Damayanti returned home with Sreya. Dolon’s family kept urging her to divorce Suresh. But, Dolon ignored them and their rebuke. Damayanti didnot know what Dolon did, but it had all worked out. Dolon had been very strong through it all, siding with her husband, supporting him with love and trust.

Once when Damayanti questioned her on why she forgave him so easily, Dolon said, “Our children need us both.”

Her children never knew exactly what happened but they were attached to both their parents. Initially, the family ignored Suresh. Then, seeing how good he was being to Dolon, they started relenting. Suresh tried to win back the family too as he had none of his own.

Infact when Harihar developed cancer, Suresh was the one who paid for most of the chemotherapy, his argument being that he had no one else except this family to care for whereas Subir had his parents too. Suresh stood by like a rock for his mother-in-law when her husband passed away and he was by her when she died two years later.

One day when the two sisters were having tea, Dolon had confided in Damayanti, “The past that threatened to tear us apart has drawn Suresh closer to my heart. He has softened. He seems kinder…to understand me better …perhaps because he started giving us more time… life is good now.” That was about a year after their mother died.

Strange how people were…

That the lively Dolon could be so strong and take a positive step towards rebuilding her life despite the family suggesting otherwise was amazing! That she had succeeded was fantastic! That she found it in her heart to forgive her erring husband was so kind and loving, and so unlike the reaction people would have expected from the fiery Dolon… A waiter with a tray of drinks stood before her, “Would madam like something?”

She jerked back to reality…

The moon had risen higher and the waiter waited with his tray. “No, thank you,”said Damayanti.

Where was Subir?

Someone tugged at Damayanti’s saree. Damayanti turned around and looked. It was Subir. He whispered in her ears, “What were you thinking? You looked lost and lovely…”

There was tinge of sadness, concern and accusation in Damayanti’s glance as she looked deep into Subir’s eyes and wondered why he was always late. Why could he not ever  be in time…Could it be another…?

She wiped the disturbing thought. And smiled back with a sense of regret.

The party continued to swing.

The Bride

Detail from portrait of Radha, painting from 1760C.E., Kishangarh, Rajasthan

Wrapped in five yards of gold and silk

The young bride steps into the ilk

Of others of her kind.

What does she have on her mind?

Does she dream of the man who will help her fly

To the distant realms of the unbidden sky?

Or, does she stare with fear

At the stranger so near,

Who will share her bed,

To whom she is wed?

Does she cringe from his touch?

Or, does she want to say I love you so much….

Wrapped in five yards of gold and silk,

A doll who has barely started to think,

Was she asked to marry

Or allowed to choose and tarry?

Was she sold

For the weight of gold?

Was the boy bought with money

Into the knots of matrimony?

Did she have the courage to say,

“This is the only man for me any way!”

Or, did she cry and cringe and give in

To an unwanted fate, which to oppose would be a sin?

Or,

Is she stepping in to the role

Thinking only of the silk and gold?

Another woman trapped by five yards of gold and silk….