This morning, I woke up and once again, you weren't next to me. Your side of the bed stayed untouched, unruffled and cold. And with my eyes closed, my arm kept searching for you, till my brain finally told me you weren't there. It took a few more minutes to remember you hadn't been there for a while now - two months and twelve days to be exact.
You were always the patient one and you used to call me the 'Angry young Turk', when you were in a good mood. Those were the times when you found my anger cute or even funny. I would grow angrier and keep ranting about the ills in the society while you tried to calm me down with an ice-cream or chocolate. You would put your hand on my head and say "120 degrees". I would finally succumb to the ice-cream and your joke and start smiling.
When you were angry though, it was a different matter. You knew exactly what to say to cause maximum hurt. The anger wasn't always rational though. Something trivial could make you furious and you would say something so disproportionately mean, that I would feel like I was punched in the gut. And later you would apologize profusely and we would be smiling again. But those words would make me wary for at least a few more months.
Once it was about me not wanting to watch Star Trek. I was showing enough enthusiasm when you were narrating the story hoping I would watch it with you. Someone that became proof of my closed-mindedness. And you said I could never be a good mother, because I was too narrow-minded. The connection between Star Trek and the qualities required to be a good mother, existed in your mind. I think I stared at you looking shocked, wondering what had just happened and walked to the kitchen sink with tears in my eyes. It took you some minutes to see me there, to see my tears, realize what had caused those tears and then apologize. We watched some episodes of Star Trek that day.
That fateful day, the argument was about something stupid. Really! So so so so so stupid. You were planning to make idlis for breakfast and asked me to make chutney. I was in a playful mood and said I wasn't taking orders from you. I was thinking of surprising you with not one, but two kinds of chutney when you returned from your daily run. After some back and forth, you said "You know what? You put the happiest man on earth with you for some time and you can make him miserable". And then you stormed out of the house for jogging.
But this time it was different. You didn't apologize. You didn't come back. I waited for over two hours - but there was no sign of you. I panicked after that. I called your number and didn't get an answer. I didn't know what to do. I called some of your friends - the few you had introduced, but they hadn't heard from you either. You don't know what it means to the one waiting at home. I went through panic, worry and then even guilt when your number wasn't answered.
You were the most progressive person I had met. You hated traditions. You didn't believe in marriage - you told me that for you to live with someone you liked, you didn't need society's approval. Not everyone has the same ideas though. When I went to the police station to file a missing persons complaint, the lady constable there did not understand the word "Partner". She asked me if I was your wife and then if I was your sister. She didn't have "partner" in the list of female relatives. So she had to settle for "friend".
And finally Muthu - the peon from your office called me with the news, I rushed to the hospital. Your mother was there and she was as hostile as she was the last time I had met with her. She yelled at me and said I had caused this, I had ruined her son's life and that I had caused his death.
If I had known that I was never going to see your face again, would I have been less playful and simply agreed to make that stupid chutney? Would that have delayed you a little? Is it possible that had you gone out a little later than you actually did, you would have avoided being run-over by that car?
I know this sounds cruel, but why couldn't you have died that day, when you said you were the luckiest guy on the earth ? That was the third anniversary of the day we had moved in together. We were so happy, we spent the whole day together. Why not then? I could have lived with those memories.
If you had known that it was the last time you were speaking to me, would you have said something nicer? Something I could have cherished in the days that followed? Would you have said what you said, if you knew you were never going to be able to apologize for them, leave alone take them back? Because amidst the pain of losing you, and the humiliation of being shooed away, the last words you uttered to my face keep coming back. I go into a loop of ifs and buts and many nights I have to stand under the shower as if that will wash away the thoughts.
I don't think I have loved any man as much as I have loved you. And I don't hate anyone as much as I hate you now. You were a selfish and cruel man and I can't live without you....
You were always the patient one and you used to call me the 'Angry young Turk', when you were in a good mood. Those were the times when you found my anger cute or even funny. I would grow angrier and keep ranting about the ills in the society while you tried to calm me down with an ice-cream or chocolate. You would put your hand on my head and say "120 degrees". I would finally succumb to the ice-cream and your joke and start smiling.
When you were angry though, it was a different matter. You knew exactly what to say to cause maximum hurt. The anger wasn't always rational though. Something trivial could make you furious and you would say something so disproportionately mean, that I would feel like I was punched in the gut. And later you would apologize profusely and we would be smiling again. But those words would make me wary for at least a few more months.
Once it was about me not wanting to watch Star Trek. I was showing enough enthusiasm when you were narrating the story hoping I would watch it with you. Someone that became proof of my closed-mindedness. And you said I could never be a good mother, because I was too narrow-minded. The connection between Star Trek and the qualities required to be a good mother, existed in your mind. I think I stared at you looking shocked, wondering what had just happened and walked to the kitchen sink with tears in my eyes. It took you some minutes to see me there, to see my tears, realize what had caused those tears and then apologize. We watched some episodes of Star Trek that day.
That fateful day, the argument was about something stupid. Really! So so so so so stupid. You were planning to make idlis for breakfast and asked me to make chutney. I was in a playful mood and said I wasn't taking orders from you. I was thinking of surprising you with not one, but two kinds of chutney when you returned from your daily run. After some back and forth, you said "You know what? You put the happiest man on earth with you for some time and you can make him miserable". And then you stormed out of the house for jogging.
But this time it was different. You didn't apologize. You didn't come back. I waited for over two hours - but there was no sign of you. I panicked after that. I called your number and didn't get an answer. I didn't know what to do. I called some of your friends - the few you had introduced, but they hadn't heard from you either. You don't know what it means to the one waiting at home. I went through panic, worry and then even guilt when your number wasn't answered.
You were the most progressive person I had met. You hated traditions. You didn't believe in marriage - you told me that for you to live with someone you liked, you didn't need society's approval. Not everyone has the same ideas though. When I went to the police station to file a missing persons complaint, the lady constable there did not understand the word "Partner". She asked me if I was your wife and then if I was your sister. She didn't have "partner" in the list of female relatives. So she had to settle for "friend".
And finally Muthu - the peon from your office called me with the news, I rushed to the hospital. Your mother was there and she was as hostile as she was the last time I had met with her. She yelled at me and said I had caused this, I had ruined her son's life and that I had caused his death.
If I had known that I was never going to see your face again, would I have been less playful and simply agreed to make that stupid chutney? Would that have delayed you a little? Is it possible that had you gone out a little later than you actually did, you would have avoided being run-over by that car?
I know this sounds cruel, but why couldn't you have died that day, when you said you were the luckiest guy on the earth ? That was the third anniversary of the day we had moved in together. We were so happy, we spent the whole day together. Why not then? I could have lived with those memories.
If you had known that it was the last time you were speaking to me, would you have said something nicer? Something I could have cherished in the days that followed? Would you have said what you said, if you knew you were never going to be able to apologize for them, leave alone take them back? Because amidst the pain of losing you, and the humiliation of being shooed away, the last words you uttered to my face keep coming back. I go into a loop of ifs and buts and many nights I have to stand under the shower as if that will wash away the thoughts.
I don't think I have loved any man as much as I have loved you. And I don't hate anyone as much as I hate you now. You were a selfish and cruel man and I can't live without you....
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