by Simi K. Rao
“It doesn’t become you to lie. The last time you were here was in the dead of winter and the bloody lake was frozen,” he said tersely and strode off.
“But…but, Rihaan!” She hobbled after him, forgetting that she could walk just fine. “I was just trying to please you…”
He swung around. “Don’t Naina, don’t ever do it again! I can handle anything but I cannot handle untruths, no matter how innocent they may seem!” he snapped.
She bit her bottom lip to keep it from trembling. It took all her self-control to avoid bursting into a loud frustrated scream. What had she done to upset him so much? Had she deceived him in the past?
They returned home and soon after he left, saying he needed to attend an urgent call. He was providing himself with a convenient excuse to flee and walk away from her questions.
It was hopeless. They were hopeless. She locked herself up in the bedroom and cried herself to sleep.
***
The following two days were spent deliberately avoiding each other. They were not unlike a couple of rash and impetuous teenagers after a particularly fierce spat. It was quite a comical situation and if Naina hadn’t been party to it, she’d have probably died laughing.
But then something happened to interrupt the silent brouhaha.
Rihaan was lounging in the living room, in his favorite recliner, when Naina approached him.
“Your mother’s on the phone,” she said. She held a cordless phone.
“Tell her I’m not here,” he muttered quietly, continuing to scroll on his cell as if his life depended on it.
“It’s not you she wanted to talk to, it’s me.”
His head came up sharply. “Whatever for?”
Naina faltered. It was clear that the situation between mother and son continued to remain grim. “Uhm… She has invited me along with you, of course, to the house tomorrow…a sort of welcome back party for me—her bahu, she said.”
A myriad of expressions crossed her husband’s face—from shock, to frank incredulity, to wonderment.
Naina was growing impatient. “What should I say? I told her I’d let her know after asking you.”
“I’ll go with whatever you want,” he replied evenly.
“But…I…” Naina was thrown by his words. How could he leave it to her when thus far he’d been the one who had been making all the decisions? She wrung her hands. “I guess I cannot say no. She’s my mother-in-law after all. God, I’m so nervous.”
His expression softened into a smile. “Don’t be. She’s not going to eat you alive. Besides, I’ll be there with you. Consider it your coming out ball, Cinderella.”
Inconsistent Life
Silk and summer don’t go together, Naina brooded regretfully, as another rivulet of sweat trickled down her side and drenched her sari-blouse. But her sister-in-law had insisted. “Mom will be absolutely bowled over. She’s a tradition junkie!” And now, even though she wished she had opted for the more sedate salwar kameez, Naina was glad she had sought Rima’s help. Who’d know better about a woman’s likes and dislikes than her own daughter?
Besides, her skills as a couturier had come in very handy when she expertly refitted Naina’s blouse for her and offered valuable advice on the best way to drape her sari, so as to conceal the worst of her scars and wear makeup to highlight her beautiful eyes and draw attention away from her hollow cheeks.
As a bonus she even provided her with a shoulder length wig, which boosted Naina’s confidence tremendously, though Rihaan didn’t look very impressed.
Naina turned to glance at her husband. She found him in a pensive mood, gazing out of his side of the cab. Now there was someone who’d never need a morale booster of any kind. Even in the casual jacket he’d hastily shrugged on after returning from work, he managed to look breathtakingly suave. Even despite a six o’clock beard.
Naina frowned. She’d rarely seen him miss out on that aspect of his grooming. Undoubtedly, he had something serious playing on his mind.
Suddenly he leaned forward and tapped the cabbie on the shoulder. “The address is at the end of the street.”
Naina’s grip tightened on the door handle. She didn’t want to do anything to further upset her mother-in-law and damage their relationship forever. If nothing else, for Rihaan’s sake. He seemed a lot more affected than he let on.
She took a deep breath and gave herself a pep talk. I can do this.
***
From her perch on the edge of the flagstone path, Naina stared warily at the secluded suburban villa, anticipating a turmoil of some kind. But the vibe counter was registering a dismal zero.
Backing onto lush green hillside, the red tiled, ivory-washed stucco house, and it’s tastefully landscaped grounds dotted with an abundance of shade trees, evoked nothing but a sense of blissful serenity. Adding to the rustic appeal, a profusion of summer color sprang artfully from every direction—it was by no means an ominous vision.
The fluttering in her chest settled down a little, but sped right back up when she spotted Shobha standing at the front door with an arati thali in her hands, her expression in complete variance with the surroundings.
“Let’s get this over with.” She heard Rihaan mutter under his breath at her side.
Yes, might as well suck up and face the music, Naina reasoned wryly and pushed forward. Though at the same time, she struggled to draw the sari’s edge over her head, in a show of modesty and sound upbringing, but the wretched thing wouldn’t stay. It kept slipping from her fingers.
She lingered wordlessly, as the metal plate with its oil lamp, circled the air, encompassing both her and her husband, keeping with the ancient tradition of warding off all evil. Then dutifully, she bent forward to accept the red kumkum dot in the center of her forehead, thereby awakening the third eye.
Here it comes! Naina braced herself and waited for the ax to fall.
But Shobha, having honed her skills on a steady diet of desi soap operas, seemed intent on prolonging her daughter-in-law’s agony. She smiled, rather sweetly at her, though her words were directed at Rihaan. “At last…you think of bringing your wife to visit your mother. Meri aankhen toh taras gayi thi. (My eyes had grown weary.) When did a son need an invitation to visit home?”
Naina glanced at her husband in confusion, but his features revealed nothing. They seemed set in stone. And whether her mother-in-law was expressing genuine sentiment, or was it all a part of some grand scheme, Naina didn’t have the luxury to ponder it over because she was swept away in a whirlwind of festivities, set up apparently in her honor—the daughter-in-law who had defied Yama, the God of death himself.
The Mehta residence was much larger than its exterior belied. But the wide open floor plan which allowed for plenty of natural light, plus the ample use of marble everywhere, endowed the place with a soothing ambience rarely seen in large houses. And even though one could tell it wasn’t filled to capacity, the crowd present wasn’t meager either—quite unlike the intimate gathering that Shobha had mentioned on the phone.
“My mother is very gregarious as you can see. She never lets go of an opportunity to socialize, much to the chagrin of the rest of us,” Rima explained in a regretful aside coming to stand next to Naina.
Naina silently acquiesced to being exhibited like a trophy acquired after great battle, disguising her fears and mortification with a smile. She was determined to give Shobha no reason to find fault with her—not if she could help it.
Yet as the hours passed, Naina felt more at ease. Everybody seemed so nice and mindful of her sensitivities. They introduced themselves, sometimes more than once, and treated her no different from the rest of the clan. Though of course, there was the usual sprinkling of unavoidable characters with shady intentions, but that didn’t concern her, because her husband, as promised, stayed by her side with a hand parked firmly on her hip—alert for m
ischief and icy sharp with his repartees.
Indeed, he appeared to have assumed the role of her unofficial bodyguard, that too with an exceptionally cynical sense of humor. And though it appeared many were put off by his apparent fierce possessiveness, she reveled in it.
It was close to ten in the night before Naina concluded that the grand showdown with Shobha had been deferred to another day. Better still, it seemed the woman had forgiven Naina for her mistakes and secretly reconciled to all their differences. Even if she was doing so for her son’s sake (who unfortunately seemed to cut her no slack) it was to her credit. She was at least trying.
Rihaan, having perhaps realized the same, relaxed visibly and stepped away to mingle with his own set. His full-throated laughter that boomed forth from time to time imbued Naina with pleasure and satisfaction—her decision to confront the lioness in her own den hadn’t been in vain.
The evening was in its final laps. Gossip with coffee and chai was winding up in the reception lounge. The ladies were ferreting their men from their various hideouts and saying their goodbyes. Naina stole the opportunity to stifle a yawn, but nothing escaped Shobha’s eyes.
She looked legitimately concerned. “You look tired. Mein toh bhool hi gayi (I almost forgot) you are still an invalid. You need your rest.”
Though Naina didn’t entirely concur with the opinion, she agreed to retire. But when Rima offered to take her to Rihaan’s room, she refused politely. “Thank you, but I think I can find my way.” She desperately wanted to spend some time alone.
“It’s isolated at the end of a long corridor in the west end—a large room swimming with books on gross topics—you can’t miss it!” Rima said with a laugh.
Naina couldn’t suppress her excitement as she headed down the aforesaid passage—like a child on an illicit mission of discovery.
And illicit it was. Though not in the way she wanted it to be—
She heard voices. Ugly, nasty whispers that filtered through the door hinges, ricocheted off the walls and poured directly into her ears. They belonged to the same people who had conversed with her hours ago and wished her well.
“I know I shouldn’t be saying this, but I really feel for Rihaan. The poor boy. Look at his wife… How she was and how she is now.”
“And totally clueless…” This was followed by a hushed snicker.
“Never seen anything uglier.”
“But he appears so devoted…”
“Sab dikhawa hai. (It’s a mere pretension.) He must be cursing his luck. I don’t get why he sticks with her. Someone should thrust some sense into him. My Sushmita…she is ready even now, if he would just…”
Naina clamped her hands over her ears and snuck into a darkened alcove. She had heard enough.
Her husband—young, virile and very much a man—had been leading the life of a virtual saint. Deprived of his needs because of her. And she…a fool, had been blind to it all, or had simply refused to acknowledge it. Maybe because in all this time he hadn’t touched her. Not in that way… And why would he? Her ugliness repelled him.
Hot tears of pain came gushing down her cheeks. Everything was falling into place. Her husband’s distance. Shobha’s reservations. Everything. Her daydream was over.
Finding an unlocked side door, she yanked it open and rushed outside. But what she saw there brought her to a sudden halt.
Under cover of the heavy blooms of the Wisteria tree, was a couple shamelessly making out. But there was no mistaking their identities. She remembered the man from introducing himself to her earlier. It was Rudy, Rihaan’s perpetually smirking friend, in his stand-out stark white suit, with a girl in a white and gold lehenga—who did not happen to be his wife in the terminal stages of confinement, but her teenage cousin.
Choking back a cry of disgust, Naina turned and fled the other way.
She made for what looked like a gazebo, brilliantly white and surreal in the moonlight—a perfect place to escape and tally her woes.
The night air was scented with the cloying fragrance of jasmine. She squatted on the low wooden bench and listened as the crickets, frogs and other nighttime creatures performed a raucous symphony; as dancing fireflies went off like tiny flashbulbs in the bushes, and somewhere faraway, a lonely house pet let out a mournful howl.
She heard the muffled sound of footsteps approaching and hurriedly wiped her cheeks.
“There you are!” Rihaan’s voice sounded almost angry, but he instantly moderated his tone. “I was worried.”
“Why?” she said, continuing to stare into the distance. “Am I not allowed to spend time alone?”
“Of course you are. But…”
“But what?” She turned around and saw him standing with his shoulder slouched against the trellis, slightly inebriated.
“I…” he hesitated.
“Thought that I’d have a seizure? I haven’t had one since I was released from the hospital. Please Rihaan…!” Her voice was unintentionally gruff.
“Okay. Sorry. My bad.” His mouth relaxed into that familiar lopsided grin.
“You’re forgiven,” she responded indulgently.
His beautiful face was etched in silver, but his eyes—they shone like burnished fields of gold—warm, benevolent and sensual. A man like him would be no stranger to receiving love notes and sundry messages of undying devotion from his patients—his naïve victims. He probably took them in his stride. They were to him but a clinical curiosity—to be examined and dismissed, before moving on to the next.
Was she too—one among his umpteen transiently interesting subjects?
He looked uncomfortable under her scrutiny. “Anything bothering you? We can talk about it.”
She stood up abruptly. “I don’t want to stay here anymore. Can we go home…please?”
Us
Naina stood in front of the floor length mirror and began to slowly unwrap her sari. She called it her reality check mirror because it helped keep track of her scars, both old and new, and monitor them, as some faded and others took their place. Of late, she had even begun to find some resemblance between her reflection and the girl in Rihaan’s video. But now she knew it to be a delusion.
She sneaked a glance at her husband out of the corner of her eye. Having just walked out of the shower, he was vigorously toweling his hair. His white T clung lovingly to his damp torso.
She yanked her eyes away and said, clearing her throat, “Can you help me with these pins? My hand isn’t cooperating again.”
“Are you all right?” he asked, flinging the towel away at once and rushing to her side.
“Yes I think so. Just tired.”
But he wouldn’t believe her as usual, going through the ritual of examining her arm, and asking her to follow simple commands to reassure himself. When he was done, he smiled, appearing satisfied and chided her gently while unpinning her sari. “Why did you have to wear this?”
“To please your mother,” she said watching him in the mirror.
But he looked intent in his task.
“You have to please no one,” he said, tossing the long end of the garment down on the bedroom floor. She sensed his finger run down the spine of her shoulder blade and shuddered, closing her eyes.
“Fabulous,” he murmured softly, as if he was talking to himself. “I must congratulate Dr. Rivers.”
Her eyes sprang open. “Who is Dr. Rivers?”
“Your plastic surgeon,” he explained, meeting her eyes in the mirror. “She’s done an excellent job. The huge scar on your back is almost invisible.” He grinned.
“Oh…right.” She turned around and took a deep breath. Time to come clean. “Rihaan, I appreciate your sacrifice…but…”
“Sacrifice? What sacrifice?” He stared blankly at her—that innocent I-don’t-know-what-the-heck-you-mean stare. Why was he making it so difficult!
&
nbsp; She tried to compose herself. “I release you from your obligations. You’re free.”
He continued to watch her. “Obligations? Free? Stop talking in riddles, Naina!” He stepped forward, making her stagger against the dresser.
Her hands scrambled for support. The look on his face was sapping her of her courage. Maybe this wasn’t the right time but she couldn’t postpone it any longer. She had to get it out of her system.
She bit her bottom lip to stop it from quivering. “I’ve compelled you all this time to lead your life with a selfish and mean woman, who isn’t even a tiny bit attractive,” she said looking down. Her head sagged weighed down by grief. “I never thought of you. Not once…about your wants, your desires. And I know what you’ll say. You’ll say it doesn’t matter, but I can’t. I can’t let it continue like this. Because…I love you so much!” She broke into a sob.
“Naina…”
But she couldn’t stop crying. The feelings she had suppressed for so long had chosen to revolt. “I really do love you, Rihaan and that’s why even though the very thought kills me, I will let you go.”
“No.” He propped her up as she swayed tipsily on her feet. “No Naina. No! Please. My love. My poor darling. Stop.” Grasping her tear-soaked face in his hands, he kissed it. “Stop crying and listen to me!” He admonished her, but she ignored him.
“I’m an invalid. Damaged goods. Scarred and ugly. You cannot but abhor me. It’s plain as day!” she wailed.
“HUSH!” His lips covered her mouth. “There now.”
She stared insensibly at him.
“Now that I have your attention,” he said, smiling tenderly. “I love you, all of you, every tiny scar. The way you slur your words when you get excited, your ungainly walk. Even your annoying little tantrums.” He tapped her chin with his forefinger. “They make you the most complete and beautiful woman that I’ve ever known in this world, or ever will know. And unfortunately…you can’t let me go.”
“Why?” she asked dumbly.
“Because I am stuck to you, stupid girl! Like a limpet, with waterproof glue or whatever you may choose to call it! You can’t get rid of me no matter how hard you try! Because I belong to you. Only you. Always have!” He yanked her into his arms so fiercely that her breath expelled with an audible whoosh.
