Chapter-10
The day passed like a dream. Imran was thoroughly confused and I enjoyed it immensely. For a straightforward person like Imran, his life was strictly divided between black and white or better still as right and wrong, my cryptic one-liners like 'I don't love you' etc simply proved devastating. He would look at me and say, "I know you love me but you are saying the opposite." And I would say, poker-faced, "of course not. You are the one who loves me but I am only a capable wife." It was hilarious to watch his face look so sad. When needed, I kissed him, caressed him and made love to him but said things that he was not expecting. He was torn. I loved tormenting him.
I suddenly realised that I need not wait long for a child. There was already one at home. Imran was a child who had all the innocence, simplicity and an eternal capacity to hear that I loved him. I was acting the typical stone hearted girl who was not ready to yield to a request. Even today, in midst of my fulfilled happiness, my mind constantly fought unease. Was he really mine? What if it was all a dream? Would he still be there when my dream ends, to ask if I loved him or not or would I just be what I have always been, forsaken? Worry was my companion. I was not used to good things in life. They came to me only to be snatched away.
But if it was all real then I wasn't worried. His eyes, his touch, his broken voice, burnt down by fever on that fateful rain filled night, was a lifelong assurance. There was someone in this universe who was kind to me. I had someone all to myself who was loved and adored by so many and most importantly respected by so many. How would I be able to assimilate so much goodness in one? What did I do to justify such largesse, such benefaction?
But again, what should have been an unadulterated joy for me was watered down by dilemmas. Ups and downs in life had made me incapable of accepting the good and negate the bad on its face value. I looked hard at Imran trying to decipher hints of emotions that could give away his goodness or the wickedness. But, it was difficult, he would look down evading eye contact and then peek stealthily when I looked elsewhere with a kind of greedy look reserved for something too precious and unattainable. Like a child stealing a hungry glance at an expensive toy.
After some time, that glance became so disconcerting that I decided to ask him to get up and get some food. Finding something to do worthwhile (or maybe because I commanded it!!) he was up in a flash and rushed out like a burst of air and returned with a bag of food sufficient for five persons for three days. Though inappropriate for a newlywed bride, I admonished him harshly and he looked at me so shamefaced that I had to let it go. Yet, when we settled down to eat, I realised that we were actually starving and at the end of some silent devouring, the leftover was fairly manageable.
I looked at the bed and the general disorder made me blush. I showed it to Imran and he blushed mightier. So, we took bath, got the house in order (for the first time independently) and lay down side by side, in complete fulfilment. And we talked for the first time. Time flew and we shared, our innermost desires and dislikes, that we never knew existed. It came out like a flood. We spoke as if there could be nothing to conceal from each other. Our secrets melted away with a fierce understanding and faith. Now I knew what troubled him.
Imran's father died when he was five years old. His remembrance of his father was vague and hazy. He, for all practical purposes, was brought up single handed by Kiana, his mother. They stayed in several small towns where she worked in schools as a senior teacher. She took tuitions in the evening. Although he was uncertain as to why they moved every 2-3 years despite changing schools, he performed admirably well in his class and soon became favourite of many teachers. His mother was a very organized woman and planned and executed each move with efficiency. Very less was spoken about his father but Imran gathered that there was deep love between them but something had gone amiss right before his death.
After finishing school, he finally joined a very famous engineering college. Though they had little finance but Kiana with single-minded doggedness arranged for his studies. As expected, he excelled and after passing out they moved to this town. By now, the struggles of life had a taken a toll on Kiana and Imran wanted to take over his responsibilities and provide some relief to his mother. But, life turned out to be cruel on him and he failed to land a job despite his excellent records. Various social factors contributed to this and he gradually became frustrated and desperate. The rest of the story was known to me through Suresh.
He spoke animatedly about his workshop. His description of the difficult times, failures and finally success. It seemed like a story right out of a novel. His love and dedication for his workers and staff made me feel a wee bit jealous. But, I could sense his sincerity. He could not speak about his mother much. The pain in him was palpable. I could feel his intense sorrow for his mother. He genuinely felt that he had failed her.
His momentary lack of caution and imprudence continued to be a relentless source of self-mortification. In the last five years, he never allowed himself to forget his indiscretion, even once. His penance was interminable and his conscience unyielding in perennial repentance. He could neither absolve nor forget. With his mother being unforgiving his indictment was complete. Worse, he suffered this profound pain in silence and in isolation.
He had tried to rectify himself. He worked like a maniac and deprived himself socially and monetarily. He effaced himself to be non-identifiable to social scrutiny. He was ruthlessly striving to disown his own entity to some unfathomable depths. Forever shrouded in self-guilt, his confidence towards redemption was destroyed.
Only one question remained unanswered, the circumstances that made him say yes to our marriage. I did not force him to reveal.
There was a knock on the door. Imran was in deep sleep. For a moment, I hesitated but went ahead and opened the door. It was Sumitra. Her face lined with deep anxiety as if not had a wink of sleep after I made her leave the house. She looked at me searching for an answer. I did not want to prolong her agony. I nodded and smiled. The dam broke. She rushed in like a woman possessed, hugged me and started crying. She kissed my face many times. I let her unburden all her grief, apprehension and finally her happiness. The relief on her face said it all. I, for one, was happy and proud of my new family who was standing by me; ecstatic in my joy and miserable in my sorrow.
After what seemed an eternity, Sumitra stepped back looking shamefaced for her unusual expression of affection. By now two more people had converged at the door. First Suresh, who was probably lurking at a distance, looking completely bewildered. The other person was Imran who looked the most embarrassed of all. No one knew what to do. I tried to recover the situation and said, "How come you two are here. I thought you will enjoy some time with each other away from us." Both were uncomfortable and sheepish. I nudged Imran to take Suresh in and I held Sumitra by her hand and led her in.
In a short time, the awkwardness vanished and there was a great merriment. We spoke till early morning. Though Sumitra suggested that it was time for Suresh to go home but I vetoed the idea. Sumitra looked radiant. Suresh, as usual, looked discomfited. I had never seen Imran so jovial. He enjoyed the most. In five years, for the first time, this house was witness to such happiness. We were all in high spirits. But my eyes did not fail me. I saw Imran, often looking at his mother's picture, though for a short instant.
I cornered Sumitra in the kitchen on the pretext of making tea and asked her about her abrupt return. She looked at me awkwardly and finally said, "Bhaavi, I was almost dead with anxiety. I could not even imagine a situation that would hurt Imran and any pain to you was also not acceptable. But I did not know what would happen. In the afternoon, I decided that if something had to happen, good or bad, it would have happened by now. So, I asked Suresh to come with me. He was terrified by the prospects but I insisted.
Sorry Bhaavi (elder brother's wife), I just could not control myself."
I patted her cheek and said, "I would have been very annoyed, had you not come today. Your Imran is a big crooked man. Very naughty." The glow on Sumitra's face told it all. Her happiness was complete. Lifelong, I longed for love and from Sumitra, it came unannounced. I felt numb with gratitude.
