Love Lasts Forever (24 page)

‘
You’re just a loser like him after all.’

35.  Captain’s story – 12

1981, Nagpur

When did money become more important than love?

              As I slowly sipped my whiskey, the following evening, I grappled with the question ruffling in my mind. I sat in the balcony and couldn’t stop the damn tears leaking out from my eyes. I didn’t want Shikha to see them, she was inside, somewhere, or perhaps outside, I didn’t notice. My heart welled with anger as much as I tried to forget what she said yesterday.

             
You’re just a loser like him after all…

             
Why Baba? I rolled the glass churning the yellow liquid inside and then gulped it down in one sip. I hated its taste, but my fellow colleagues -
losers like me
- in my workplace told me it makes you forget what you want to forget. So, yeah, what the heck?

             
I had never imagined I could ever be so angry with Shikha. She shouldn’t have said that those words, she should never have…I poured some more whiskey in the glass and topped it up with soda.

             
Behind me, I heard a woman rant. ‘Yes, now, that’ll make you rich!’

             
I turned round and Shikha was staring down at me in repugnance. I clenched my fingers around the glass and my lower lip trembled. My head wobbled and in a fit of a rage I hurled the glass few inches away from her evoking a loud, clattering noise when it hit the wall beside her. She recoiled away from it.

             
‘Shut up! And get the hell out of here!’ I roared.

             
And then I passed out.

When I awoke, the sun had already set and given way to the moon. It hung low in the cloudless sky
, offering plumes of white to the ebony backdrop. Crickets chattered close by and the birds had begun their evening trill. I rose to me feet slowly, feeling the piercing pain in my head, and plunked down on the bed in our room.

Few days passed this way in an alcoholic haze. I was still not able to get rid of her bitter taunt and was mad at her for denigrating my father. He wasn’t a loser. If anything, he was a man of stout character and perseverance. He sacrificed all his comforts of life for mine. In fact, he even gave place to her and her father when they needed it most.

             
And now she thinks he was a loser.

             
Everything is money, I decided those days, the biggest virtue of humans. Love, compassion, affection only follows it. My own wife taught me that, someone whom I thought would be the last person in the world who’d think that way. But then, I have myself to blame. That’s what happens when you love someone more than life itself…
more than yourself
; you blur the reality and live in a world of fantasy.

             
Things were changing now. Slowly, but steadily, we were drifting apart, more so in my mind. This time I never felt of sorting things with her. I was deeply hurt by her callousness and complete disregard to my feelings. I constrained myself in my own world of thoughts and alcohol. She too, never bothered, by the way.

             
The following weeks it got even worse. On most of the days, she’d stopped cooking for me feigning a headache or fever. I’d return tired from the office only to find her sleeping or resting on the couch.

             
‘Did you cook anything today,’ I asked her one Friday evening. ‘I’m starving.’

             
She was cradling her temples and her eyes were shut. At my presence, she scrunched up her face as if she was in deep pain. ‘No, I’m not feeling well today.’

             
‘Shikha!’ I said irately. ‘Cut the crap OK, this is the fifth straight day you haven’t cooked anything. Stop giving me that pained expression, always. I can’t be looking after my work and your work at the same time. I am tired when I return and need some food before I sleep. What did you do all day today apart from lying there?’

             
She perked up and glared at me. ‘So you married me to have your food cooked and have someone to look after your house, is it? Why didn’t you get a maid in that case who could do all that for you?’

             
Funnily enough, her pain seemed to vanish while she said those lines.

I shook my head.
‘Just go to hell!’ I yelled before marching to my room.

             
Arguments like these that our home had never seen hitherto became a routine paradigm. We often fought, seldom spoke, and never shared a cozy moment. Maybe all that hogwash they say about wife and marriage is true. There can be no such term as a happy married man. If there was, then his wife would be dead.

In the days that followed, I wouldn’t say I tried improving our relationship, but yet, I never faltered in my duties. I still worked and, dutifully, at the end of the month handed over my entire salary to her, of course, after separating my share for the alcohol. The thought of cheating on her never occurred in mind and I remained loyal as ever. There were days when I cooked for her and yet other days when I got the groceries and other stuff for the house after her continued pretence of headache or body ache or fever or whatever.

             
I learnt staying silent maintained peace and harmony in our home. On days I opened my mouth, she opened it wider and bigger, until we’d yell our lungs out at each other after which she’d sob in one corner and I’d drink in the other. There was a spectacular satisfaction achieved in watching those tears roll down her cheeks.

After all she’d
been the one who made them appear in my eyes in the first place.

3
6.  Captain’s story – 13

1981, Nagpur

‘
Why the hell did you not tell me about Rajiv and Swati’s wedding?’ I stomped into our flat right after work one day and gave out.

             
Close to two months had passed after the revelation of her abortion and we weren’t in talking terms, if yelling and screaming at each other doesn’t qualify, that is to say. She held a gloomy face all day as if I was responsible for everything. When she was around with that sullen look and weary eyes, it felt that I had to be the worst husband ever as if I’d been inflicting a case of domestic violence on her. I ignored her outright and engulfed myself in alcohol.

             
But then today, I couldn’t keep the anger to myself. Rajiv had showed up at my workplace and admonished me for not making it to his wedding. He said Swati had personally handed over their wedding card to Shikha and exhorted us to be a part of it. A distant relative of her had organized the wedding in a banquet hall and naturally they were excited about it. It was a far cry from our wedding in that shady district court.

             
And Shikha never even told me about it. Obviously, she couldn’t attend the wedding alone and perhaps she’d be embarrassed in the company of a
loser.

             
She sat on the bed and casually read a magazine.

             
‘SHIKHA!’ The blood in my veins boiled. ‘I’m asking you something, will you stop ignoring me like that.’

             
She looked up, away from me, ran a finger on her temple and appeared lost in thoughts.

‘
Of course, I told you,’ she replied finally, her eyes settling back on the magazine.

             
‘At least look at me when you lie,’ I said, moving closer. ‘God damn it!’

             
‘I’m not lying, I did tell you,’ she repeated her lie with the same fervour.

             
‘No, you didn’t, you liar,’ I snapped. ‘Why would you even lie about that? Are you ashamed of even going out with me now? They are our friends; that’s the least we could’ve done for them. Or now, you consider even them
losers
because’ - I held out my hands and made quotation marks with my fingers – ‘
they are poor like me
.’

‘
OK, fine!’ she said, rolling her eyes. ‘If that’s what you want to think, go ahead, I don’t care. But I thought I told you.’ She ran a languid hand through her hair.

‘
Oh yeah, right, now you
thought
you told me,’ I said before storming out the room.

The following evening in my drinking session, I decided to make up for our absence at their wedding. The least we could’ve done is getting them a nice present. After my drink, I headed toward Shikha and braced myself for another taxing conversation.

             
I asked her for some money and my intention of a gift. It’s weird, I thought, to be asking for money from her and justify its need when I did all the hard work.

             
‘I don’t have any,’ she muttered under her breath.

             
‘But I just gave you few days back,’ I squealed in anger, ‘my entire salary!’

             
‘You did?’ She raised her eyebrow at me. ‘When? I don’t remember.’

             
‘Oh God!’ I clenched my fists. ‘What’s wrong with you? Last Tuesday…I think.’

             
She had a faraway look in her eyes. I waited for her to respond.

             
‘Sorry,’ she finally spoke with an air of indifference, ‘but I think now
you
are lying. You spend way too much money on your alcohol, you didn’t give me anything.’

With that sh
e brazed past me toward the living room.

‘Close the door,’ she said
. ‘I’m going for a walk.’

             
I could see what she was doing, irritating me on purpose.
But why?
What’s wrong with her? Am I such a bad husband, just because I don’t earn enough? She doesn’t tell me about my best friend’s wedding so she doesn’t need to be with me and get embarrassed; she doesn’t talk to me, ignores my presence, blows whatever little I earn, and pretends I’m a fool who would believe her lame excuse of not remembering.

             
We shouldn’t have married; I came to the conclusion few days later. Perhaps marriage torpedoes the love between humans. And that’s exactly what happened in our case.

Then
two days later came the day of our second quarterly anniversary. I laughed at the thought of it. We spent the entire day
away
from each other. I wasn’t sure if she even remembered it and couldn’t care any less.

             
That night a thought occurred to me.
Who knows
this might just be our last quarterly anniversary?

             
Then later, I kicked myself for entertaining such a negative thought. Of course, things would get better, I hoped.

37.  Captain’s story – 14

1981, Nagpur

It is heartbreaking to think that
the enormous love you once had for your wife was diminishing. As much as I tried, I couldn’t stop myself from feeling distraught about our situation.

             
I’m not sure if I could say that I still loved her, but even then, I couldn’t bring myself to the affirmation that I didn’t love her either. There was still a corner in my heart that wept for her, everyday. Should I give our relation another chance?

             
Perhaps we’d come too far in our marriage for any hopes of rapprochement, or perhaps, not. We’d loved each other close to decade until we got married; this is certainly not the way this was supposed to end.

             
OK, then!

I got
up from the couch. I’ll give us one last shot.

‘But what happened?’ Rajiv said, curiosity manifest in his eyes. ‘You guys were madly in love.’

             
I had ordered a cup of coffee and Rajiv ordered tea. We sat in a small
dhaba
near my workplace during our lunch break. I couldn’t handle the confusion alone and Rajiv was my best bet for it. As I looked up at him, I could see his eyes staring back at me in concern. Obviously, neither he nor Swati had even an inkling of our messed up relationship.