Saturday, March 5, 2011

There are no lies now - i am telling you , there are no lies.

It is a death - a death of someone very close in the family. I told you, someone was going to die, and you though I was lying - just because I lied all the other times you thought this time too I had to be lying. See , this is why , you never got me. I told you the truth, you did not believe me , and now see , someone is dead - that too, in the family. You are going to sit there now , and you will take in the fumes from the dead body, of bacteria multiplying and of things still alive in the dead body, dying constantly as almost as an afterthought , death comes after them. You are going to say , I am insensitive, but you will check yourself, knowing how I had been right about somebody dying ,and you wrong and insecure in not believing me.

Anyway, now the fumes are within you body, and though you knew you were wrong you did not move. Your stubbornness, is going to be the death of me. You know I am looking , yet you let your tears fall on the white sari I had so carefully draped the dead body in. This is not the time to worry about the cleanliness of the sari , you say - I feel like interjecting, reminding you how you had run , when the body had bled, leaving me to clean the sores, the blood wounds, the hurt, the anguish. And now when i cleaned out the body, like something new and shiny , very much as how baba looks after being scrubbed when he comes back home form play. Raw, shiny and red - oh and of course , dead.

Sometimes, I can see through your phoniness - your sensitivity, your hurt and your anger is all a farce. You hide behind it , meekly clutching to your big manly handkerchief as you read the newspaper holding it close to your near-sighted eyes - it just shows , you with all your outward drama , feel much less than I feel in my unfeeling body. Even the children always run to you for favours, thinking how I will obviously refuse them - but when they fail tests, and when they scab their knees you pass a judgemental look in my direction, hold your hanky close to your nose and shout for the servant to come and clean the mud trailed footprints - I take the blame , I scold them - just as I pour with them over their homework , just as I hold tissues to their tear stained cheeks. Yet they call me unfeeling and you sensitive.



I know what you are planning to do now - you are going to run from the town , till the death has been lived down by the rest of us . You will say, my uncanny return to normal life , disgusted you and you ran, not only from the hurt and sorrow but your disappointment in me. You will say, you ran from me. Then , you will write long shadowy letters , of grief , pain , and wretched unrequited love - where all our friends have become your friends, and i am left trying to keep the children from getting out of hand - trying to stop the workers from revolting , trying to take care of your friends, when you in your phase of injured merit will stop talking to them.

While you were away - I revived old friendships as only I know how to. I will hold down the domestic fort while you try to raise your injured merit physically off the ground,visiting large mouthed whores who in their innocence took you one for an artist. Only I as i run baba's lines with him for his play, will know how much of a farce it is.

I will , feel the natural course of jealousy that every woman feels for every penis that enters her - regardless of my sense of displaced authority. I will bemoan the lost cause of my marriage to friends who try to listen to me, but mildly tell me it is all my fault - because I was too harsh, I couldn't understand you as they in their foolhardiness understood you. I listen to them and I take the blame - for I don't need to be proved right like you did. But needless to say - I was hurt , hurt how i never understood you till i had no way to run , no way to go, no way for peace except that wretched existence with you - but then I stop myself, for I don't run , I don't hide.

As I thought about this and other things, i contemplated leaving. With a little practice and a lot of sex, I know i can forget you , and i can forgive you - for I was always ready to take things as my fault. But then I thought - I never leave, and I never go away - so I am here, bitter, angry and resentful but knowing that you know, that i knew there would be a death , and you know you were wrong. I check myself in time, yes my body is battered and old in my complacency of a settled love - but I forgot how every man is a wanderer and to never let yourself go for one such rover.

Till you come back , I will have found someone else, and this time I will blame you, this time I will not clean up the mess - this time ,I will not settle with you for you seemed safe, but change myself and get myself a real man , a man not so afraid to talk, to act , to love as you were. A man not given to such cowardliness as you were - a man who as you used to say, is as cold and calculating as i am - in this thought, i let you know that even if i am never able to forget you - i have forgiven myself. And as you know, it was never about you, it was always about me - about me knowing I did not hurt a good man - my hurt (if it indeed was my hurt alone) for your hurt . We are even - in the knowledge that there is a death , and that I was right.
 
p.s. this is a different kind of story. would definitely want opinions :)

2 comments:

Sanjukta said...

That's one strong willed woman :) Love the last paragraph!

P.S: It's gonna take more then 'just a little practice & lot of sex' to forget someone..it ain't that easy. Just saying :P

PHOTOGENIC DEVIL said...

<3 <3

i overrate sex - not knowing how effectiv it really in , never having indulged in it :P
but i have a feeling , a jackass like this is forgettable