Loneliness

I crumble. Every time she leaves I collapse like a pack of cards. All the times she’s around the bed sheets are unwrinkled, clothes neat and waiting, warmth in the kitchen and a nebulous feel of being alive and whole.

She, who makes this tedious business of living so easy for me, is standing in the kitchen; in a polished shining corner where everything is where it should be. For the first time, she is right in front of me as I feel myself crumbling, crumb by small crumb.

Her eyes are bloodshot. A vein is throbbing nervously at the side of the left eye.

I’ve just come back from my venture into the world.

“Hiiiii!” Bag skids over the bed, car keys clink into a metal tray in the living room. I am moving all over the house; into one room out of another till I reach the kitchen.

“You know what happened today?” I take a survey of the neat kitchen, of her putting something in place, her back towards me, “We saw an accident in the morning and” I go to the window sill that housed plain borosil glasses “you know people don’t have any patience anymore!” pick one glass up reached for the jug of water “Early in the morning they are screaming at each other like it’s no body’s business. Bah!” I pour water, the sound of water filling up adding to the noise of speaking “That’s what I really don’t like about India. First, no one has any driving sense and then they yell at each other like the other person is completely at fault.” The water is manna to my soul as it goes down my throat. It seeps into my being; I can feel it flowing everywhere. “What nonsense!” Aah, the pure bliss of coming home. “How was your day?”

She turns around. Slowly. The hair on the nape of my neck prickle, empty glass in hand, I turn around to face her, abruptly conscious of the silence.

Her eyes are bloodshot. A vein is throbbing at the side of the left eye.

She can see my eyebrow arch up. “I’m just having a headache. Didn’t get any time to sleep in the afternoon.”

“Well, rest then.” The empty glass clinks as I put it on the gleaming black marble slab. The glint of light brown shelves and cupboards becomes a glare.

“There’s so much to do….” She walks, a foot in front of the other, reaching the living room, pulling out a chair and props her face on her hands like a listless tent on two bean poles.

“What’s left? I’ll help you with it.” I pull out a chair too and sit beside her. Restless, I stand up and come around to her back and rub it gently, finally resting my hands on her shoulders. “How much is left?” I ask more gently than before.

She stands up. “Nothing much really.” We’re walking from one room to another now. A double bed strewn with remnants of the procedure of packing. Another bedroom flowing with two other suitcases. Curtains flutter as the evening breeze flits from one end of the house to another.

We’re looking at the remnants together when the phone rings. The moment is broken. I play with clothes and mobile phones. Snatches of conversation catch my ears.

“…our love will always be with you too…” I could hear the gentle smile.
“yes… yes, yes!” a wider smile and then a laugh. I think of the house without her and I don’t want to see her this closely ever again. I think of the house; without her; and I don’t want her to go away at all.
“ok..ok..bye, you too”, the smile again.

She comes back into the room. Looking different now. The energy is back. Clothes are picked up and put into shelves. Eateries are packed carefully and put into bags. People come over. The room becomes crowded. Laughter, best wishes, hugs and jokes. Everyone troops for dinner and some more jokes. Aquariums and fishes are discussed; plans for the future are discussed.

We all crowd into the car enthusiastically and drive away. I know it’ll be waiting patiently for me when I come back home. It is waiting patiently for her across the world when she reaches her home.

A biting, engulfing loneliness.