Shuba couldn't avert her eyes roaming around his pastel themed artistic bedroom. It entirely contradicted from her worn out, dingy bedroom.
She stared at the painting of sea raging on the cliff on the framed canvas hanged on the wall as she wriggled her toes, feeling pretty foreign sitting on someone's bed. She knew she had to habituate to the room, whilst her comfort resides in her room.
She peeked at the door awkwardly, expecting his arrival.
"Vidyut"
There was no response. She instantly feels stupid about herself to wait for his reply. While the shrill screech of the fan resonateed in her ears, her mind pondered on how long it would take to get accustomed to living with a mute husband. She got up from the bed, but stood rooted to the floor looking at his shadow approaching the door.
He stepped in, drawing the curtain aside, which was covering the door. He was holding a water bottle, taking unsure steps towards her. He extended the bottle to her, providing a considerable distance between them.
"No..." She shook her head negatively.
He pursed his lips together, nodded his head and walked past her placing the bottle on the bedside table.
He could sense her intense stare on his back. He turned his head as the corner of his eye met with hers, she immediately looked away somewhere over his shoulder. A smile of amusement played across his lips to find his nervous wife where the situation was entirely different when he first met her. It was self-evident, of course. A night with a known stranger tends to be edgy. Restless.
He pulled out his mobile from pocket, held it flat, keenly noting if the screen was visible to her at a readable distance and began typing on his notepad.
The notepad app's screen was split into two sides. On his side he could type in the text box and on her side, the screen showed what he is typing simultaneously.
You may take the right side of the bed. Wake me up if you need anything. Goodnight.
It read.
She looked up at him, offering an approving nod, which he returned with the nod of his own. He laid on the left corner of the bed, drifted to sleep in mere seconds. She lied on other side with not a hint of sleep in her eyes.
Why is that men get or feel they are entitled to the comfort in every petty thing? He chose his comfort side, I have to stay in his comfort place, and ultimately i should get adjusted to his comfort. And they name this double standards as sacred relationship, a man and woman share.
She sighs lowly. She couldn't sleep until a 360 degree body rotation, she finds the spot, sleep drowning her.
The chimes near the bay windows clanged, stirring her from her sleep with their metallic sound. A yawn escaped her lips as she got up, taking off the blanket.
Facing the wall adjacent to the bed, the drowsiness in her eyes vanished. Astonishment held her eyes as she saw the painted waves of the sea, glimmering on the rays of sun from the window. It seemed like the waves moved as the rays fell on the canvas. She had least expected her morning to be this beautiful in the new house.
The blanket beside her was folded and laid on the edge. It was quarter six, she didn't expect her husband to be a early riser like her. She quickly freshened up and exited the bedroom.
She spotted him at the cramped balcony, sipping some beverage in the cup, his hands leaning against the steel railing. Her thoughts were consumed by the bizarre shift that had occurred over the past two months. The man she had lashed out on the metro train, labeling him a creep, and sought an apology from after he nearly fell onto her, is now the man she has to discuss the breakfast plans with every day.
She asked him, and in reflex, he raised his hands, gesturing something, but then immediately closed his eyes with an awkward smile and reached for his mobile to type in notepad.
Whatever you'd like
He texted.
"I don't have anything specific in mind... do we have dosa batter?"
Yeah
Is it okay if I join you in the kitchen?
She was startled by his unexpected request and it took seconds for her to answer positively.
They divided the breakfast and lunch preparation between themselves. She discovered he was a capable cook when soaking the onions in the water bowl, supersonic chopping of the vegetables, handling two burners at once. He figured out she's a beginner in cooking as she jumped when mustard burst in oil, double checking on the ingredients and their measurement, now and then checking on recipe blogs.
He texted on his notepad, asking her to get ready for work as she kept glimpsing at the wall clock.
He knocked on the bedroom door which was wide open. The sound of closing of the drawer in the dressing table indicated she's inside, maybe getting dressed.
She flinched at the sound of knock with safety pin between her teeth, and stood puzzled for a second.
"Uh- come in" She swiftly pinned her saree against her blouse and her eyes snapped to the mirror as he entered, his head hung slightly low, eyes downcast marching towards the restroom.
The steam of the sambhar in the kadai brushed against her fingers while pouring it in steel tiffin box, she winced slightly licking her pinkish thumb, and proceeded to pop out the pressure regulator from the cooker.
It was quarter to nine, she was running behind her mental schedule to catch the bus for the local station. Chewing a piece of the dosa, she filled the rice in a compartment of the three tier tiffin box.
He approached the dining table, rolling up his sleeve along his forearm, gazing at his wife pacing between the table and kitchen countertop, packing her lunchbox.
As she stood by the marble slab, inhaling his scent behind her as he subtly tried to peek over her shoulder. She turned to face him, "l have kept the dosa and sambhar here" she says pointing at the thermal container and bowl on the table.
While sitting in the chair, he raised his hand into her line of sight, she saw him narrowing his eyes at the chair beside him, with a plate in front of it, indicating her to sit.
"I.. Umm.. had my breakfast" She says, glancing at her plate with half eaten dosa and dumped it in the basin.
Before he could react, "I'll take your leave" She adds, striding over to fetch her office bag from the side table, dashing to the front door.
~•~
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Tangled Vines
चिक-लिटShe has always resented the concept of marriage. She would brief it as two puppets of the society being twisted in a chaotic ordeal. He perceives marriage as a painfully slow-growing commitment, a nurturing aspect of life. It's their tale of marriag...
