[Blog: http://coffeeandstories.blogspot.com]
Have you ever loved a woman so much that you can give your everything for her? Have you ever been in love with a woman who can erase your past, camouflage your future and beautify your present just by being in it for you? I have. Siddarth. I’m dead. It is all over. I died in a snap of a finger and left her all alone in lost love and agony. Mansi.
After one week, I saw her sleep on our bed. Her bed. She must have cried all night. I saw how bad the kohl had disfigured her beautiful eyes. She always had a thin line of kohl embellishing the rim of her eyes. That day, she lay there with ruffled hair and puffed eyes. The kohl on her eyes looked no more beautiful. It must have been really cold. The windows were open. Yet she lay there on the bed hugging the pillow. My pillow. She let the cold winter wind cruise her body. Maybe she needed the chillness. Maybe she just needed me. “Wake up Mansi. Let us have coffee”, I whispered. She opened her eyes as if she heard me. I wish she did. I wished I could have conversations with her. I wished I made her feel my presence. She lazily saw the clock beside her. It was 7.30 AM. A lazy Sunday. Maybe she was reminded of the Sunday rule. I cook. I do the dishes. She is the boss for the day. Who is going to cook for her today? Who is going to get her the coffee now?
She got off the bed and stepped into her slip-ons. She walked into the kitchen to make herself a coffee. She stood by the coffeemaker and kept thinking about something. I wished I could be beside her and make that coffee for her. Just coffee. No sugar. No milk. She liked it that way. But I was right next to her and she will never realize how close. She made the coffee and walked towards the balcony. On her way, she stood by the mirror and looked at the kohl around her eyes. She placed the coffee mug on the table and pulled out a tissue to wipe off the kohl. It was gone. But yet the pain in her eyes lurked. She must have been starved of smiles. She walked to the balcony and sat in her couch looking at my couch with yearning eyes. When will she ever give up? Of these little things that reminded her of me. Of our Sundays together. Of how we used to have long conversations over coffee. How we used to argue over petty things. Once we ended up arguing about Laloo Prasad Yadav. She felt he had a cool hair style. I thought otherwise. She wouldn’t give up. Finally I gave up, as usual, just for her, and also agreed to have such hair style when I grow old. She was happy. Here she is, staring into the dazed wintry sky. Into the emptiness.
She sat there in silence for over an hour until the sky gave up and poured. A surprise shower on a cold winter day. The rain lashed into the balcony and on her. She sat there unperturbed. Of the rain. Not of the pain. Rain water fell into the coffee and the bamboo couch was getting wet. She sat there staring into the dark sky. Her face looked pale. She must be crying. I couldn’t make it out as the rain drops were perched on her face and flowed down as if to feel her. How long will she sit there and let the rain ransack her body? Her emotions. Her loneliness. Will the rain flush down her pregnant mind? She might have heard me. She stood up and walked into the house. Water dripped from her night gown as she walked in. I followed her like the trail that the water drops left behind on her path. A trail of tears. Of her memories. Of me.
I was with her. In her every move. When I was alive I traveled like there was no life at home. She stayed home waiting for me to come back. I traveled. For work. For money. When I got back I usually got her expensive gifts. She always looked forward to be with me instead. Now I’m here spending every single moment with her. But she can never realize that. She starved. She slept. She watched television. She read. She slept again. Whatever she did, I was with her. Every moment.
She woke up to see the darkness. It was 7PM. She had slept for a long time. The silence after the rain wasn’t pleasant to me for the first time in my life. Life? I think I have grown impatient after my death. She sleepily walked to the bathroom, turned on the water in the bathtub and dropped in the bath salts. She turned on the radio and began to undress. She sank into the tub and closed her eyes. I sat beside her. How pretty she looks. Be it early in the morning or late in the night. The charm lies in her smile and the flawless skin. She smiled all of a sudden. I sank into my own tub of worries for not being able to let her know that I was right next her. After her beauty bath she stepped out and I was mesmerized at her pristine body all over again. I’m never going to feel her ever again.
She wore one of my favorite sarees. The black sequined one that was made just for her. She put on her diamond-studded necklace. The glitter can never overshadow her looks. She looked her own self that evening. Mansi. Simple. But elegant. She kept staring at the mirror. And then threw a smile. What was running on her mind? She pulled out my favorite perfume and dabbed it gently. She pulled out her lipstick and glossed her lips. This was the only thing I never liked and it has been quite sometime since I saw her putting it on. She looked complete. Beautiful. Elegant. But for the lipstick.
She walked to the living room and cleaned the couch. Maybe someone is coming. Maybe her friends are coming over. But why is she dressed for me? She sat in the couch watching television and I sat beside her. Looking at her. Somebody was at the door. She walked hurriedly and opened it. A dandy looking handsome man stood at the door with a bunch of flowers in his hands. She gave it to her and kissed her on her cheeks. She closed the door behind him. They sat there on the couch. Close to each other. I sat opposite to her. And her friend. “What took you so long?” she asked. The same question she used to ask me every time I was late. “I had to stop by to pick some flowers and some Chinese food for you” he said effortlessly. I was usually grumpy after a tiring day and said “Just work”. But at least, I never lied to her.
She pulled him close to her and comforted herself in his warm breath. “I cried all night”, she said. Maybe she is going to tell him how much she missed me and how painful it is to go through it. A friend does help at times such as these. “I know, I was rude yesterday. I’m Sorry”, he said and threw his arm around her, It wasn’t me then. The tears were for him. Because of him. She was in his thought all through the day while I followed her like her shadow every moment. I was beginning to feel heavy in spite of being invisible. My wife and her friend. In each other’s arms. They watched the television. They laughed at it. They smiled at it. They even frowned at it. And then they kissed. For a long time. Did I have a heart to watch it? Oh no! The heart stopped a few days back and that is why I’m dead and gone. Should I be happy to see her with another man after my death? Or should I still want her to live in my thoughts? Forever? She must move on. I should be happy that she could do it this fast. The moving on in life.
They then moved away from each other. Maybe it was my presence. Maybe it happened because I was not there. They sat down at the table to have their Chinese dinner. She unwrapped a box of prawns. She smiled at him. My favorite prawns. She had served that to me on that fateful night. I had choked on prawns while relishing it hurriedly. And my life was gone in the snap of a finger. “Siddarth liked these prawns that you had served that night didn’t he?” he asked as he served her. “Yeah. He thought I cooked it for him” she began to eat. “And he died just like that as soon as he took the second bite!” he laughed. “Everybody knows now that he died coz of prawns. He choked” she said. “We know that you had poisoned him” he said and moved closer to her.
If I had had a heart, it would have been shattered and I would have shed tears for each of those million dilapidated pieces. But all I could do was dissolve in thin air. The colorless soul. With moisture. In pain. Of betrayal.
After one week, I saw her sleep on our bed. Her bed. She must have cried all night. I saw how bad the kohl had disfigured her beautiful eyes. She always had a thin line of kohl embellishing the rim of her eyes. That day, she lay there with ruffled hair and puffed eyes. The kohl on her eyes looked no more beautiful. It must have been really cold. The windows were open. Yet she lay there on the bed hugging the pillow. My pillow. She let the cold winter wind cruise her body. Maybe she needed the chillness. Maybe she just needed me. “Wake up Mansi. Let us have coffee”, I whispered. She opened her eyes as if she heard me. I wish she did. I wished I could have conversations with her. I wished I made her feel my presence. She lazily saw the clock beside her. It was 7.30 AM. A lazy Sunday. Maybe she was reminded of the Sunday rule. I cook. I do the dishes. She is the boss for the day. Who is going to cook for her today? Who is going to get her the coffee now?
She got off the bed and stepped into her slip-ons. She walked into the kitchen to make herself a coffee. She stood by the coffeemaker and kept thinking about something. I wished I could be beside her and make that coffee for her. Just coffee. No sugar. No milk. She liked it that way. But I was right next to her and she will never realize how close. She made the coffee and walked towards the balcony. On her way, she stood by the mirror and looked at the kohl around her eyes. She placed the coffee mug on the table and pulled out a tissue to wipe off the kohl. It was gone. But yet the pain in her eyes lurked. She must have been starved of smiles. She walked to the balcony and sat in her couch looking at my couch with yearning eyes. When will she ever give up? Of these little things that reminded her of me. Of our Sundays together. Of how we used to have long conversations over coffee. How we used to argue over petty things. Once we ended up arguing about Laloo Prasad Yadav. She felt he had a cool hair style. I thought otherwise. She wouldn’t give up. Finally I gave up, as usual, just for her, and also agreed to have such hair style when I grow old. She was happy. Here she is, staring into the dazed wintry sky. Into the emptiness.
She sat there in silence for over an hour until the sky gave up and poured. A surprise shower on a cold winter day. The rain lashed into the balcony and on her. She sat there unperturbed. Of the rain. Not of the pain. Rain water fell into the coffee and the bamboo couch was getting wet. She sat there staring into the dark sky. Her face looked pale. She must be crying. I couldn’t make it out as the rain drops were perched on her face and flowed down as if to feel her. How long will she sit there and let the rain ransack her body? Her emotions. Her loneliness. Will the rain flush down her pregnant mind? She might have heard me. She stood up and walked into the house. Water dripped from her night gown as she walked in. I followed her like the trail that the water drops left behind on her path. A trail of tears. Of her memories. Of me.
I was with her. In her every move. When I was alive I traveled like there was no life at home. She stayed home waiting for me to come back. I traveled. For work. For money. When I got back I usually got her expensive gifts. She always looked forward to be with me instead. Now I’m here spending every single moment with her. But she can never realize that. She starved. She slept. She watched television. She read. She slept again. Whatever she did, I was with her. Every moment.
She woke up to see the darkness. It was 7PM. She had slept for a long time. The silence after the rain wasn’t pleasant to me for the first time in my life. Life? I think I have grown impatient after my death. She sleepily walked to the bathroom, turned on the water in the bathtub and dropped in the bath salts. She turned on the radio and began to undress. She sank into the tub and closed her eyes. I sat beside her. How pretty she looks. Be it early in the morning or late in the night. The charm lies in her smile and the flawless skin. She smiled all of a sudden. I sank into my own tub of worries for not being able to let her know that I was right next her. After her beauty bath she stepped out and I was mesmerized at her pristine body all over again. I’m never going to feel her ever again.
She wore one of my favorite sarees. The black sequined one that was made just for her. She put on her diamond-studded necklace. The glitter can never overshadow her looks. She looked her own self that evening. Mansi. Simple. But elegant. She kept staring at the mirror. And then threw a smile. What was running on her mind? She pulled out my favorite perfume and dabbed it gently. She pulled out her lipstick and glossed her lips. This was the only thing I never liked and it has been quite sometime since I saw her putting it on. She looked complete. Beautiful. Elegant. But for the lipstick.
She walked to the living room and cleaned the couch. Maybe someone is coming. Maybe her friends are coming over. But why is she dressed for me? She sat in the couch watching television and I sat beside her. Looking at her. Somebody was at the door. She walked hurriedly and opened it. A dandy looking handsome man stood at the door with a bunch of flowers in his hands. She gave it to her and kissed her on her cheeks. She closed the door behind him. They sat there on the couch. Close to each other. I sat opposite to her. And her friend. “What took you so long?” she asked. The same question she used to ask me every time I was late. “I had to stop by to pick some flowers and some Chinese food for you” he said effortlessly. I was usually grumpy after a tiring day and said “Just work”. But at least, I never lied to her.
She pulled him close to her and comforted herself in his warm breath. “I cried all night”, she said. Maybe she is going to tell him how much she missed me and how painful it is to go through it. A friend does help at times such as these. “I know, I was rude yesterday. I’m Sorry”, he said and threw his arm around her, It wasn’t me then. The tears were for him. Because of him. She was in his thought all through the day while I followed her like her shadow every moment. I was beginning to feel heavy in spite of being invisible. My wife and her friend. In each other’s arms. They watched the television. They laughed at it. They smiled at it. They even frowned at it. And then they kissed. For a long time. Did I have a heart to watch it? Oh no! The heart stopped a few days back and that is why I’m dead and gone. Should I be happy to see her with another man after my death? Or should I still want her to live in my thoughts? Forever? She must move on. I should be happy that she could do it this fast. The moving on in life.
They then moved away from each other. Maybe it was my presence. Maybe it happened because I was not there. They sat down at the table to have their Chinese dinner. She unwrapped a box of prawns. She smiled at him. My favorite prawns. She had served that to me on that fateful night. I had choked on prawns while relishing it hurriedly. And my life was gone in the snap of a finger. “Siddarth liked these prawns that you had served that night didn’t he?” he asked as he served her. “Yeah. He thought I cooked it for him” she began to eat. “And he died just like that as soon as he took the second bite!” he laughed. “Everybody knows now that he died coz of prawns. He choked” she said. “We know that you had poisoned him” he said and moved closer to her.
If I had had a heart, it would have been shattered and I would have shed tears for each of those million dilapidated pieces. But all I could do was dissolve in thin air. The colorless soul. With moisture. In pain. Of betrayal.
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