THIRTY ONE
“You look lovely,” he said. He himself looked stunningly handsome in a pale yellow T-shirt and blue jeans. They were sitting in a pub.
“I don't like crowded places. It should be in a corner with rock music and some beer.” He was extremely attractive tonight. The beer and snacks came.
“All right, to our budding love,” he winked at her, “and for tonight!” Her heart missed a beat. What was she doing here in a different city with an unknown man? What does she know about him? Where is Kartik? What would he be doing? She felt bad since he did not even bother to call and find out where she was. He did not care. Why it is that life becomes so complicated just because that one person does not love you? So many friends and people hanging out with you become insignificant. There is this emptiness, a vacuum that stares right through you; a constant turmoil. It's like you are distracting yourself from the crowd's stare, but all this time you know it is there.
“I don't mind the crowd.”
“Well then enjoy it because you are not going to be here for long. I am going to take you with me tonight,” he said, as if it was his decision to take without consulting her.
Maya smiled and sipped her beer in silence. His attractiveness was far more intoxicating than anything that had any percentage of liquor in it.
“Will you come to my house tonight?”
“No. I want to go back home.”
“That is not your home. There is no one. You should have someone to go back to in a home,” he said. He hated when she didn't make eye contact with him. He hated the way her eyes wandered. Who would she be looking at? Was she trying to find a better companion? Was he not good enough?
“I'm too tired. I had an interview today. It went off well and they have called me for a second round tomorrow. I want to sleep early so that I may look presentable,” she smiled.
“Presentable means?” he asked.
“It means I have to look good.”
“Looking good, will it get you the job?”
“It helps.”
“You mean you will try to impress the guy on the other side of the table with your looks for the job. What else will you do for him? Even give him a blow job?” He was taking her for granted. “And of course you have that cheap mind set of a person using his or her body the way they feel like,” he went on.
“I think you are going off track,” she said.
“Well, it's your life and you're responsible for it. If you aren't bothered why should I be?”
She smiled at what she thought was a childlike anger. Maya was unable to see the potential danger. The man was getting possessive and you better watch out, her instinct said, but she ignored it.
That night, after he dropped her home, he did not go back immediately. He loitered around, keeping an eye on the front window of her flat. Why had she been eager to go back to an empty house? Was there any man involved, his jealous mind asked? In fact, that night his jealousy chased his sleep away.
She was coming out after her interview when she received a call from her father.
“How have you been? I've been worried about you,” he said.
“I'm fine, dad. I had applied for a new number.”
“How are things?”
“Fine, daddy, the office here is bigger and better. They find me quite good at work so I may have to stay back a while longer.”
“Till when, Maya?”
“May be another two months,” she lied. She was speaking whatever was coming to her mind spontaneously.
“You take care. Your mother and I love you. We miss you, baby. Come back soon,” his voice was warm and there was a longing in it. That's why she felt bad when she lied to him.
Later that evening she sat with Raghu beside the sea. The waves always touched her deep inside. Her mind wandered far away. She thought about her father. She remembered how he used to walk with her to school bus; how he used to pack her lunchbox with a sandwich, some biscuits and a toffee. It used to thrill her to watch him waiting for her after school, on days when he did not have work. He was the man she loved most. He was the man who loved her the most and unconditionally. The man who would forgive her for whatever she did in life. She wondered why in spite of the fact she and her father shared this love and concern; they had to lie to each other. As a parent he could not share his problems with her thinking she would get hurt. Not realising she got hurt any ways. As a child she could not fall back upon him even when she was sure he will not let her fall. She was scared of hurting him. He was getting old now. She ran into a marriage just because she tried to find a new family in her raw and youthful excitement.
It's so strange that in the desperation of getting loved we forget the art of loving unconditionally. It is so strange that we always keep expecting to be loved in return. In the process we waste the precious joy that the art of loving someone would cherish upon us.
“I want you to be with me all the time Maya. I can't imagine my life without you. Please don't ever leave me and go.” Raghu said in such childlike way as he held her hand against his. Maya was elated as she came out of her thought maze. The romanticist in her loved the romanticism in his tone. She was crazy about such moments and loved the way he took care of every little detail of hers. She always wanted someone to propose in so many words to her. Words that would make her feel wanted and loved.
She loved him, but there was something in him that set off warning bells. She could not put her finger on what it was, but it sure was sounding as loud as a factory siren.
A woman passed by, holding the hands of her two children. She was busy showing them the sea. The little one could not understand what was so exciting about the water; if it was so good why wasn't he allowed to go nearer? The older one was more interested in the toy seller.
How much Maya wished that she was that unknown woman with her two children. The one who gets up in the morning, cooks for her husband and children, has sex diligently in the night and spends all her life doing the same. She never aspires, never questions; the one, who is content or at least looks to be. The one who either pretends to be happy or has started believing she is happy.
She remembered her neighbour in Delhi who sounded happy, but given a chance would want to change her life. She was a housewife who looked content, but often used to tell Maya: “Humne to aise hi saari zindagi nikaal di. Ab kya sochna, baaki bhi nikal hi jayegi” (Our life has passed us by, the rest would too). Then she would smile a loser's smile. Had it been a smile of a confident woman, Maya would have believed her. It was so sad that after contributing her life towards her house she was still made to feel that way. Yet she wished she was like them. If not happier, life seemed less complicated for them. It was seemingly happier.
She had just been proposed to by a handsome man, but when it happened, it did not seem as great as she had imagined it to be. Sure, she was swept off her feet, but that was for just a few minutes. “I feel you aren't happy with me,” he said.
“I am,” she said. She did not know why she could not admit that she was not sure when she was not. Perhaps it had to do with her inability to say no. She was more concerned about how others would feel rather than how she would.
“Why do you say so?” she blinked her eyes.
“May be that I'm not satisfying you enough.”
“Means?” she looked at him
“May be you need someone else. A more educated and a richer man. May be Kartik is the right guy for you. I have nothing, but love and it does not seem to excite you at all.”
“I don't understand what you are saying.”
“Half the time you seem to be lost. Sometimes I notice you looking at other couples; even other men.”
“Have you lost it?” she asked, not believing what she heard.
“I'm a loser! What can I get for you?”
“I don't understand why you talk this way. You are so intelligent. I am sure you can make things better. In fact, like I always say, I really feel you underrate yourself.”
“So that's what it is! I'm so dumb that it's not just others, but I underrate myself. I'm not even interested in earning more money. All I dream of is a life where I stay happily with the woman I love and our three children.”
She smiled. He looked innocent. At such times when he was so helpless, his desperation to be with her oozing from every word convinced her that he loved her more than anyone else in the world.
“Look, Maya. The aviation industry is not doing too well, but I'm making enough money for us to live comfortably. I don't need loads of money. My children can be simple ones, not those English speaking MBAs who know nothing about life.”
Maya looked away. It was useless to explain things to him when he was in this mood.
“I have found a job here in Mumbai,” she told him.
“Huh!”
“What do you mean, huh? Aren't you happy?” she asked with a smile.
“What is the need for you to work? Aren't you satisfied with my job?”
“It's not like that, Raghu. I also need to have an identity.”
“Identity?” “What fucking identity do you want? You bloody women can never be happy with what their man can get for them.”
“You don't have to be rude, Raghu. It's just that I also want to make a mark in life.”
“So you have my children, na. Why do you want to become a whore? Go to work and meet other men to get laid?” He was talking nonsense. His filthy language was shocking. “Raghu, we need money to bring up children!” she implored.
“You mean I don't earn enough. Is that what you're getting at? Bitches like you can never be tamed. I thought you were different, but you are all the same. All bitches, one and all!”
She felt angry and hurt and did not know how to react. He left his food half-eaten and walked out of her flat.The next evening, he was extra nice to her, as if to make up. He said he had goofed up and would never repeat it. Maya decided to take him at his word. Again, she refused to listen to the warning bells going off in her brain.
Maya had started disliking herself already for giving in to whims and fancies of Raghu. He used to be nice to her sometimes. At other times suddenly like a chameleon he would change colours and attack her with the dirtiest accusations possible. What it is with us women? Maya often thought.
The Indian woman was a paradox in herself. She did not have the ability to stand by herself. On one side the country had some powerful women ruling it from positions of power, but on the other side, women were sad, dominated, abused, killed, raped and forced to live a monotonous life.
All they would do is crib about living in a man's world, not getting tired of producing more of them. They hated men, but still wanted a male child. They would look at an independent woman and would want to be like her. Yet in a public debate they would call her an irresponsible mother who leaves her children to go out and work. They would hate their husbands, but they would think it is criminal for anyone to walk out of a marriage. They worshipped female deities, but they themselves felt guilty of exhibiting any authority.
Women, she thought, had the ability to either make or break the coming generations. Wasting away their talents and carving a forced routine for themselves which in turn often give birth to pent up frustrations. Ironically a glance at history shows them as much stronger. They were polyandrous. There were things such as gandharv vivah and niyog. In gandharv vivah one could choose to make love with a man without marrying him. In niyog one could choose another man if he is more capable of procreating better progeny.
What has then happened to women now? The larger world seems to have affected us; religious influences seem to have dented the status of women in the country too. Why is it that the three other big religions - Judaism, Christianity and Islam have no strong female goddesses, unlike Hinduism? Thinking along these lines made Maya feel miserable.