Sometimes it seemed childish, often it was; somewhere, the
reluctance to grow up, more unfortunately pettiness and the amour propre -the ‘I’ out shadowing the
‘Us’.
“You know, it seems true it seldom can be fifty-fifty in a
marriage”. She said. “It can only be disproportionate, how so ever
passionate and liberal one may be. That counts for both man and woman. It could
only be sixty-forty or thirty seventy”. She paused, her eyes were brimful with
tears but she would never shed, she held them back with amazing grace and painfully.
I felt uncomfortable looking into her eyes, miserable that I could not offer much
for comfort, except an occasional mutter, “It will be alright soon”. She said, “Infatuation cannot afflict
adults. Can it? But then in one’s teen how adult could one be? It was falling in love; someone has to first,
right? I don’t know if we fell in it the same instant or was I awed by his
youthful charm, his enamouring self, candour and spirit that were lively?”
I told her I knew bits and pieces of their romance, the long
courtship and then the fairy tale wedding itself. She cast way a promising
career for a life with him. She put him on a pedestal. She ignored oblique
misgivings passed about him while they were courting. She decided that she would work very, very
hard to keep things aloft if unpleasantness came about in their lives and she
did. But she did that through silence. Ignoring and acquiescing often his
infractions, his levity and his irresponsibleness, his waywardness and most of
all his lack of openness that was always so in matters that concerned her, them
and their children. That was very unlike him while they were courting. That was
the mistake she did – the silence and wishing away and that has now come to torment
her. He sailed along with not much understanding for her and her feelings. He
was too preoccupied with his wide circle of friends, his increasing public
importance as a young celebrity. To him she and her devotion to him was a fait accompli. It was a fairy tale
beginning that did not quite tread the fairytale path as it moved forward in
life. But he did not notice and she hoped it will reverse back on fairytale
course.
It is hard to be torn between them two, for he is a good friend and she attracts the respect that a dignified lady would. “Why
don’t you talk to him? Make him sit here on the sofa, or at the dining table,
have food together, talk over the difficulties, your feelings, apprehensions
and loneliness. Make him understand what you folks are missing and there is
more to life and family than a bunch of friends and acquaintances?”
“Hmm I have tried that in vain. But when do I get to see
him. Off he goes at 9 and might or might not hop in for lunch, if he does he
takes a nap and he is gone coming back after his usual revelry with friends at
the club. It will be past midnight and I will have slept after staying awake as
long as I could with dinner for the two of us on the table. He must think that
his wife is at home. When children were growing up, I had enough to bother
about and his absence or indifference did not matter much. My hands were full.
Now they are gone and I’m left to sit and stare at the empty wall in front.”
She said while she deftly touched the corner of her eye and with the tip of her
little finger gently wiped the tear that would have dropped down her cheek. The
élan and deftness of a danseuse was evident in her eyes and even in her fingers
while she did that and when she gestured while speaking. “You would not do what
he does. Would you?” She asked softly and enquiringly, she knew the answer.”You
will not. Anyone who loves his family, hold it dear will not. I do not matter a
wee bit in his scheme of things. I’m just a marionette, dancing , walking,
running, sitting and going wherever he wants me to accompany.”
It is difficult to take sides here, though one may. The
difficulty is his resentment sound so true while he confesses his mind and at
the same time one feels that she is justified while listening to her. He blames
it on her for being lazy and disinterested in activities.”Why could not she
promote a school for dance? Her
reputation on its own will ensure a decent attendance?” “Yes, precisely the question I asked her.” I
said. “And what did she say?” “Nothing. Silence!” I said. “Exactly, what I want to tell you.
She knows nothing. She just will not heed, listen.” He said. "But why don’t you discuss matters with her,
your finance, your business? You see sharing your burden, your stress and
strain of life with your partner makes a lot of difference. It enlivens the
bond, the closeness. Man, you look half more than your age." “Closeness,
my foot, she will not understand all that. I see, you seem to have been carried
away by her tale.” He sort of accused me. “Look man as far as I can see, I do not feel happy about this discord in
your midst. The quality time you spend with her is little. I’m certain you do
not eat together. It is pretty true that a family that dines together stays
together.” These are not little children to be told all this. Grown up folks!
I tried to make her
understand the professional talent that she was wasting. She need not have to
sit back and rue what he does and what he does not do, curse her loneliness and
the idiosyncrasies he has, (to put it politely). Yes it is true that he cannot
draw the line between their lives and what that he is intoxicated about – his
friends. To him acquaintances are friends. That sounds dismaying and
discomforting. When she narrated about how some idiots, his friends move about
with scant regard to her privacy and the privacy of her home, I could only wonder
why such an intelligent respected fellow as her husband could be so
thoughtless. It was gauche and intrusive of those fellows to be so impertinent,
but then why invite people lacking
social polish and etiquette to your privacy? "I do not blame them. I blame my
spouse. He ought not to have let them cross the living room. No woman other
than I would swallow such graceless, cheeky behaviour even if the person is his
bosom friend as he claims. I have been seeing this and bearing this excessive
indulgence from the day I stepped into his life as his wife. His spread -out
arms to every urchin- friends as he calls them embolden some that they show
annoying impudence.” “A friend would not be so cheeky.” I said. “Tell me what I should do when he
is so indifferent and naïve? Oh it cannot be naiveté, a man of his age? Come-on
people grow up. Wouldn’t they?” She was, I noticed quite indignant. Her eyes
betrayed streak of disgust, like that swift display of intense emotion in the
eyes of a bhrathanatyam danseuse enacting a moment of disgust and distaste. “It is plain and
simple disregard, for his wife. It is as if I do not matter to him. I’m just a
piece to showcase and I have been aware and have been so all these years. It is
out of my volition because there is nothing I can do.”
