My Love, My Life - Part 1

Why am I not born deaf? I would not have heard the terrible news. Why am I not retarded? I would not have comprehended what is happening. Millions of people die of a heart failure every day. Oh please, sweet lord, the omnipotent one, can’t I just drop dead? Why am I being made to suffer like this? Can I carry on the arduous task of ending my own life? Why haven’t You given me the courage to do it? What am I supposed to do now? How am I supposed to react? Do I need to find solace with my friends? Will they laugh at my face? Or will they be kind and sympathetic? But what do I need sympathy for? Am I really in need of sympathy? Or is it just that I am over-reacting? There must surely be something about this, let me think. Did I ever get so upset in my 27 years of existence? When my grand father died 5 years ago, yes, I was upset. Truly and terribly upset. Had been quite close to him, he was a good old man. But I had her then, on my side, to look after me, to care for me and to see me get going again. Now that she herself has given me a jolt, whom should I go to? Whom should I confide in? Everything is so conflicting. My brain is refusing to take in the pressure of thinking. Yes, I have lost the sense of thinking clearly. Was I weeping? I don’t know. But my co-workers in the office had become silent. So silent that I was able to hear my thoughts. Or was I thinking aloud? Was I talking to myself? No way to tell. How could she do this to me? Wait. There must be something wrong. This cannot happen. I was in office for 14 hours at a stretch and this probably impaired my hearing. What actually did she say? What did we talk? Let me recollect.


She calls me when I am in the weekly meeting with my team. Reviewing the team’s performance over the past week, coming up with areas of improvement, patting the backs of the super achievers, a kind word or two to the rest – I must admit that I am a little busy. I cut the call and dial her number as soon as I can find time to squeeze in a smoke. With a lit cigarette in hand, I start the conversation with my trademark ‘Hi doll’. She starts with a ‘Sorry’ for not being in touch lately. I know she will say that. It has been more than two weeks since we talked and she has not responded to my innumerable calls and smses. I remember attributing this to her busy schedule and deciding to give her a little space and time instead of pestering her to talk with me.


A little blah blah, the usual stuff and she says that she has something important to talk about. I sort of shouted ‘WHAT’, in fact, loud enough to alarm my co-smokers. I also remember arguing a little childishly with her – “What is the matter? How can you do this to me? Does he earn more than me? Is he more handsome? Have we not clearly planned what we want to do this year, the next and the year after that? Focus on your career, you had said. You always had high hopes. You wanted us to be entrepreneurs. You said that we would be employers rather than being mere employees. Have I gone wrong somewhere sometime? Did I, anytime, give you a feeling of insecurity? Are you joking by the way? Trying to take pleasure from my discomfort?”


I throw a flurry of questions. An avalanche of unanswered ones. She does not say anything. Not a word. There is an absolute silence from her side – enigmatic and unbearable. I say HELLO thrice before hearing her voice again. She says,” I am sorry, but there is nothing to talk about. Can’t you see; I am married now? I am somebody else’s wife. Can you hear that? I thought it is better that I call you up and inform about my marriage rather than somebody else doing it. I really don’t need to justify myself nor should you go raving about it. We can always be good friends, like we were, once upon a time. Good bye.” An audible click and a million dreams shatter. Good friends. Was it all that we were to each other?


I am still not able to comprehend what is happening. I cannot help run all the good times we have had over the last five years. In the process, I also try to retrospect if something has always been wrong between us. Surely, I must have faulted somewhere. Else, she will definitely not do this to me. I hate giving her the benefit of doubt, but, I cannot help it.