Miles To Go Before I Sleep..

Aman

It was a beautiful, pleasant October evening in the capital city of India. The nights were getting chillier with each passing day. Lesser people could be seen on the streets by the time it was dusk. The riches could be seen perched on balconies of their mansions, sipping tea and reading books as they basked in the glow of the setting sun. The Singhs were one such couple. Mr. Singh, a skinny, bespectacled English professor considered himself to be the luckiest man on earth when he got a beautiful, witty and out-spoken woman of a mixed race as his bride in an arranged marriage. He cherished her with all his heart, and she, too, after initial apprehensions, fell in love with him. A year into the marriage, they had their first son after a troubled pregnancy. The difficult pregnancy, early days of parenting and sleepless nights, somehow, drew a gap between the couple. And soon enough the gap was filled with indifference. He committed himself to his work and she, to something that she had never dreamt of, being a mother! In few years time, they grew accustomed to this indifference, they never fought or had any meals together, they seldom talked and when they did, it would be about something meaningless. But one thing they often did together, even after 8 long years, was spending the evenings together, and the nights.

Today was one such evening. Mrs. Singh was humming a tune while glancing through a magazine. This was her hour of calm as her 8 year old son would be off playing with the other children. Her peace was disturbed when her husband came and sat on the rocking chair next to hers noisily. He muttered something under his breath about having to work on a Sunday and then something about a Russian author. Before she could bother to ask, Mr. Singh, in his usual professor voice, began reading a book to his very pregnant wife "Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loin. My sin, my soul. Lo-lee-ta..." mumbled something more under his breath then came, "..in school!? Hey Bhagwan(Oh Lord) what is this book about?".

Shocked at the sudden outburst, his wife looked up from her magazine with a questioning look but he was already lost in the book.

After reading for a while with a frown on his face, he exclaims "..loved...a girl child!?? A girl CHILD!!" looking up from his book he shakes his head expressing stern disappointment.

The wife, now annoyed with these unusual outbursts, asks, "What is wrong now? What about a girl child?"

"This book is about a love story between a middle-aged pervert and his so-called step-daughter who he likes to call 'Lolita'. This represents everything that's wrong with the western culture of yours." He tossed the book aside carelessly and turned to look at his wife to catch her reaction and was surprised by an enraged, stern look.

"First of all, this is just a book. I'm sure you understand what fiction is. And according to this magazine, it's one of best pieces of literature. So, come out of your shell for once and see it for what it is; a book. Also, I was 17 when we got married. Technically, I was child too, whereas you were 10 years elder to me! And what do you mean by MY western culture? Just because my mother was an English woman, I seem to represent the entire western culture? I was born and raised in this very country; I am as much of an Indian as you are. And you didn't seem to mind me being of a mixed-race on our wedding night, or me being progressive when you show me off to yours colleagues. So stop being such a hypocrite" she was out of breath by the time she was done talking, and he, out of words! After a moment's silence, she started heaving quite audibly. He was worried asked if she was having contraction. She said no and had some water. But within a matter of minutes, she was covered in sweat. She was experiencing massive chest pains and dizziness. She was having her first heart attack at the age of 23. She was taken to the best hospital in the city. 30 minutes after that little episode with her husband, here she was, naked on the Operation Table standing on the threshold of life and death. In her bouts of consciousness she mumbled something about her baby, and that she didn't want to die there was also something like "his father doesn't know".