The Owl
Tathagata Mukhopadhyay
The pain was intensifying with every passing
moment.
Seething white pain, jack-knifing just above
the left rib cage!
Just as it had happened two years back in
Bhusawal…
What do I do now? Do I wake Neha up? Do I ask
for a glass of water?
By my side, Neha, my wife, was sleeping peacefully. I
could feel the tremors of her soft snores. Her face, only partially visible,
was filled with divine innocence. Her sleeping countenance is bound to invoke
sympathy. She was like the incarnation of Maya… Nah – let her sleep. In any case,
now I could sense that the pain was easing a little…
On that eventful night in Bhusawal, when I was
in deep distress it wasn’t Neha…I had Milu by my side. Milu woke up – on her
own. Somehow she came to know! She got up with a jolt and asked, “What’s
happened? Are you okay? Do you need some water?”
From Bombay, we had taken the train to Nagpur. I
was going on a business trip, while Milu – Mrs Mila Sharma – was going to cover
some event for the newspaper for which she worked. We often managed to travel
together. Necessity is the mother of invention – they say. For our own sakes,
it was then necessary for both of us to spend nights together. So somehow we
managed to schedule our tours together. On
that eventful night, we got to know through an announcement at Bhusawal that
there would be an inordinate delay due to some derailment. We took a snap
decision to get down at Bhusawal and spend the night together in a hotel.
Mila was the wife of my friend Sudhin. She was
a journalist. Economic independence begets an aura of arrogance in
females. For Mila, this was far more
than plain arrogance. Her care-a-damn attitude towards all social norms led her
ultimately to crass promiscuity. And I loved it. Somehow, it was very befitting
to Mrs Mila Sharma’s character. She used
to treat Sudhin as a non-entity. Sudhin, without doubt, was naïve, but that he
was completely ignorant of our relationship is something I would never vouch
for! I thought he pretended
ignorance. Whether this was because he was afraid of scandals, or because he
was scared of his wife, or was it because of his obsession towards Mila so that
she doesn’t walk out on him one can never say… No man worth his salt would have
tolerated his wife screwing around with another guy, but incredible as it may
sound, Sudhin did.
I took full advantage of this and savoured
every moment with Mila. I liked Mila, of course. She was attractive,
voluptuous, and had the right curves. Added to this was the element of zing
that I thought was always present in such extra-marital relationships. It’s
like the over-fermented toddy in the winter afternoons, sour and tangy. Milu,
on her part, had many explanations to justify this relationship like, before
meeting me she never knew the real taste of true love, that her husband was
incapable of loving… blah… blah… blah. God alone knows what she meant when she
claimed that Sudhin was incapable because
I knew there was nothing wrong with him, physically that is. And I often
wondered why was necessary for her to give any reasons at all - I had never
asked for any explanations. My intent was to enjoy her company…to enjoy her to be precise and was content to
have this with monotonous regularity. Milu used to make herself available at
the drop of a hat. Our coincidental
business trips dragged us together to Hyderabad, Bangalore, Madras, Pune… at
regular intervals.
Whenever Milu talked of love, it irritated me
all ends up. ‘Love’ in her lingo was like a nickel-plated metal – fake, cheap
and vulgarly glossy. All it would require is a few light taps and the gloss
would start chipping off. But I did well to conceal my feelings because I did
not want to invite Milu’s wrath. I was very scared of Milu’s ire. For that
matter, I was very scared of any woman’s ire. Keep them in good humour, use
them, enjoy them and then at an opportune moment, dump them!
But love or no love – I must confess, I was a
trifle moved by Milu’s behaviour that night when the pain struck me for the
first time… How on earth did the fast-asleep Milu come to know that I was
having some difficulty in breathing? No, it wasn’t just breathing trouble, it
was the pain. White-hot-pain cutting through my left rib cage, like a sheath knife…
Pain – agony – anguish … is that what Milu had
experienced when she first heard of my marriage?
With a bitter smile, she said, “Wish you long
and a happy married life.”
Through the imperceptible tremor in Milu’s lips
I could sense the Armageddon… I could see the Doomsday through her eyes
brimming with humiliation….did Milu really love me? Ever? Even for a moment?
For the first time, I wasn’t so sure…
I could clearly see the dark shadows of a curse
under her shimmering eyes…
Now, the pain, that had abated for a while
started shooting up again, through my rib cage up into the small of my throat…
almost paralyzing me… yet I was in my senses… I could still vividly remember
the last letter that Milu wrote… every line of it …
“I can never forget you! Seven years, yes the
memories that I have gathered through the past seven years – the sheer volume of
it -- will always keep you alive and kicking within me. I can sense you everywhere,
in every little thing. I still feel the thrill flowing through my veins. Can
you think of a place where we did not do it? Hotel Horizon… at your friend's
empty apartment in Ahmedabad… in my bedroom… at your place on the kitchen-floor
on the day your maidservant did not turn up… in the numerous shower-rooms… on
the dining table… on the damp grass at the Lodhi Gardens on that wintry
evening… at the lodge in Shantiniketan… in the cramped rear seat of your
Maruti… at the hotel in Bhusawal when we had suddenly decided to abandon our
journey to Nagpur… Tell me, is it humanly possible to forget all these? I
sincerely wish I suffered a loss of memory… For you, of course, it’s going to
be different … at least for the time being.
The thrills of your new life will cloud your memories for a while. But,
honestly tell me, dear, can you ever eradicate me out of your mind forever….?” Oh yeah, Milu wrote good prose, I must admit.
She was a journalist after all…
Armageddon…. Doomsday….what the fuck is
happening to me…?
The breathlessness was creeping up again… I
could almost feel a vacuum in my bosom… does one have a similar feeling after
being gutted…? Is this the agony of hell-fire...
Did Milu -- Mrs Mila Sharma – experience a
similar feeling when she was dumped? Or did Sudhin Sharma undergo similar
sensation after he discovered about the affair between his wife and his best
pal?
Sudhin was my schoolmate. In college, too, we
were together. His affair with Milu blossomed and gelled right in front of my
eyes. An affair that had started slowly, took its time and then slowly had
culminated into a marriage. It was almost like the formation of a dome. Only it
was a termite dome it… Milu and Sudhin’s marriage that is. Outwardly, a solid
hillock-like appearance, inside it was all porous and puffy, with colonies of
white termites wriggling nauseatingly.
Sudhin, somehow, was always very helpful. As a
matter of fact, I also got my first job through Sudhin. But I daresay, I could
never really understand my friend.
I still remember the evening when Sudhin came
back to his apartment, unannounced. He was flying to Calcutta to cover some
Film Festival. But his flight was cancelled in the last minute due to some mechanical
snag or whatever. He came back and found me with Milu in their apartment late
in the evening. Yet, with his usual nonchalance, he asked, “Oh, it’s you.” Now how would one define his reaction? Was it
just a facade of generosity, or was it sheer hell-I-care attitude towards his
wife? How generous, how unconcerned can a person be?
“He came to see you,” Milu had replied – not
that Sudhin was expecting any reply – “It became pretty late, so I asked him to
stay the night.”
“Oh”, said Sudhin without much ado, and went
off to the bathroom for a wash. How could Sudhin accept such a ludicrous reason
from his wife? How much peace-loving, how uninvolved can a mere mortal be?
Even after all that, Sudhin kept our friendship
intact. Didn’t Sudhin, even for a moment, feel a pang of jealously? Did Sudhin
at all have love left for Mila?
I glanced at Neha – my wife. I am never going
to be like Sudhin, I will love Neha. She’s my wife after all. I will,
consciously and subconsciously, leave my past behind and wholeheartedly love my
wife. I will love her like no husband ever loved his wife. I will never allow Neha
to realize pain… Pains… are very painful!
One more razor-sharp pain shot up my left
ribcage, like a high voltage electric shock. Oh no, it’s suddenly getting
worse. I could sense that i was choking. Neha…Neha get-up, please. How come you are
sleeping so peacefully? Don’t you realize your husband is in distress? Neha, I assure
you, ours is going to be a successful marriage. I promise. We will prove that
our marriage was indeed made in heaven. Oh come on, wake up Neha, I need help….
I am unable to breathe Neha… I am unable to talk… Milu… Milu would have woken up.. in fact, once, she did, you know…I can feel Milu’s
presence here... Milu rebuking me…
ridiculing me, oh Neha can’t you here, Milu saying, “I am ashamed of myself. I
thought you were never interested in marriage, so I had often requested you not
to marry, ever. Remember, I had even proposed we spend the rest of our lives
like this… and like an idiot, so many times I had confessed that I was never
going to live without you…how damned foolish of me!”…
I mustered the last of my energy reserves and
managed to nudge Neha…
Neha moved a little and opened her eyes. No
sooner did she see me than she sat up with a jolt. That was understandable. I
was sure that with the intense pain, my countenance assumed that of Coppola’s
old, haggard, Count Dracula. Neha muffled a scream and said, “What’s happened?
Are you okay? Do you need some water?” The same words that Mrs Mila Sharma had
uttered in that hotel room in Bhusawal.
I was not impressed. What I needed then was more than water…
I managed to nod descent. Neha bent down and
touched my forehead, and very tenderly asked, “Tell me, darling, what’s
happened, what’s bothering you?” I could feel her soft breasts on my chin. I tried
to tuck my face inside the velvety comfort of her breasts. I did not need
water… I needed love… I needed to live… I tried my best to speak even though I
realized that all I could manage was gibberish groans… “Neha, I will love you…
I will love you with all my life… you will never be unfulfilled in any way… you
will never experience any pain… pains, Neha, pains are very painful….no Neha,
never…”
** ** ** ** ** **
“Well, everything went off
peacefully.”
Rajat gave one last drag on his cigarette,
dispatched the butt with a deft flick of fingers into the dark exterior and
said, “Yeah. Getting a direct divorce these days is so fucking difficult. But
tell me, Neha, when are we going to legalize our relationship?”
Neha grinned mirthfully, as if she just heard
the joke of this millennium, and said,
“Come on Rajat. You must learn to be a little
patient. At least for the next few months. Or else what will everybody say? After all, my husband died of a
heart-attack only fifteen days ago.”
Rajat thought for a while and said,
“Tell me Neha, don’t you have any feelings for that person?”
“Feelings? For that scoundrel?”
“But you married him Neha.”
“I know. I was fully aware of all his
activities, his past, his properties, his everything, before I agreed to marry
him.”
From his reclining posture, Rajat sat upon the
bed and said,
“You mean you knew everything before you
married him?”
“Of course,” said Neha. She had just finished
wearing her saree. Now as she twirled around admiring her saree-clad curves on
the dressing table mirror she said,
“Do you know Mila? Mila Sharma? The journalist
friend of mine? She had a torrid affair with that man. She had cautioned me
about him. Womanizing was his only hobby. He also had developed debilitating
heart disease. He was on continuous medication. He was advised a bypass surgery
by his doctors. But I persuaded him against it.” Neha slowly walked towards the
open window. A barn-owl, which had taken refuge in the window sill, flew off
with some shrill hoots.
“But how were you so sure that he was going to
die?” Rajat asked.
“I had a talk with his doctor. His heart
condition was precarious. But you are right, even that does not guarantee any
time frame on his death. But it happened, didn’t it?” Neha paused.
“What if it did not happen?” Rajat could see Neha’s
profile looming murkily in the semi-darkness, the soft wind playing with some loose
strands on her forehead.
Neha did not immediately reply to this. After a
long silence, she said, “I made sure it happened. I replaced his prescribed
drugs with some innocuous pills. Ever since our marriage, he relied solely on me
for his medicines. He never had a clue that he was not having his life-saving
drugs. It was just a matter of time before he had the attack. I only had to make sure that once he had an
attack, it was fatal. So that night, when he had the attack, I pretended to
sleep.”
“You mean, you knew?” Hissed Rajat in
astonishment...
Neha turned towards Rajat. The
fully developed moon formed a devilish halo behind her innocent face.
“All along,” she said –“while he was
writhing in pain I was feigning sleep…for two long hours…until he shook me up”.
“And then?” Asked Rajat, breaking
the ghostly silence. At that instant the power went off, engulfing the entire
room in darkness, save for the dispersed moonlight behind Neha’s face, her body
silhouetting against the pale moonlight…
Rajat could hear, Neha replying in
a voice of an enchantress … “after I woke up I made sure he suffered his way to
the end without any medication or aid… until he was found dead the next morning…”
Rajat could hear the hoot yet
again…the owl was seeking a refuge…
******************
8 Jan 2015, Gurgaon
