“Where is your husband?” the doctor asked while I was looking at the prescription, wondering how bad and unintelligible any handwriting could be.
Damn! Is this question even mandatory? I thought. “Um…actually…”
I struggled to find an appropriate answer, shuffling a little.
She looked at me suspiciously. “Well, there are some complications. You have a low-lying placenta and I’d advise you to take bed rest.”
I looked at her anxiously, and my heart started beating faster. “No, the baby is fine,” she said. Her words eased my nervousness.
I came out of the chamber and sat on a chair in the waiting area.
I called Vivan. Inexplicably, I felt he should know the progress of this pregnancy. He asked me to wait, sounding worried.
Within half an hour, Vivan entered the hall, looking for me fervently. He asked for the details and held me carefully as if I was ill. No, he was not my husband nor the father of this child.
It had been six months since I met him for the first time, but it felt like I had known him for ages. His never-ending care and kindness made me feel good and bad at the same time.
I decided to step out of my abusive, loveless, deceitful marriage after a good six years. A mind-numbing conversation stopped me dead when I heard my mother-in-law saying in a bitter tone, “It’s a girl, again.We will have to do the same, again,” she declared. Even her low tone could not hide her viciousness.
Do the same? Again? It meant my first miscarriage was planned, planned so deviously that I had not even realised.
I shuddered and embraced my belly which hadn’t even started to show up. But this time I needed security and dignity. For myself and for my child who hadn’t even seen the world.
“I want a divorce!” I had said to my husband, the moment he entered our bedroom that night.
“A divorce?” He flashed a wicked smile. “And, you think you can manage without me! Alone, with this child!”
That was an open challenge, and I couldn’t step back like a coward.
It was useless to go to my brother’s place after I decided to end my marriage. So, I moved to a different city with a dream to build a new life for me and my unborn child. It was certainly not easy, not that I was expecting it to be easy. But, one fine afternoon I met him, a senior executive in an MNC, and things started to fall into place.
As we entered my flat, Vivan blurted out, jolting me from my recurring memories of past.“Marry me, Meera!”
I looked at him, surprisingly. “Where did this come from?” I put my bag on the dishevelled couch.
He looked at me intently. “You need care and support. I want to be with you and this child.” His voice sounded urgent and genuine. But, I refused to believe. Trust had become a difficult word for me.
“Look Vivan, this relationship is without any commitment, and you know that. I don’t want to get trapped into a marriage again. You’re free to move on, if the ‘not married’ thing bothers you. I can take care of myself,” I said bluntly, and flopped myself on the couch.
He looked hurt.“For me, this is love, Meera,” Vivan said, before disappearing, closing the door behind him, gently.
It was normal. Hearing my hard words, getting hurt, leaving, only to return back always. He will come back, I knew.
I, somehow, felt like I had used Vivan. He knew it, but I was amazed that this murky truth didn’t waver his passion.
I felt like an unemotional selfish person. Adversity makes you strong, and sometimes rude.
Myra eradicated the bitterness growing inside me the moment I cuddled her in my arms for the first time. She brought bliss, and a new perspective in my life. Vivan did come back as if nothing
has happened.
“Pappa,” Myra, who was going to turn two, the next month, squealed. I looked at her. She was watching rhymes on TV while I prepared her meal.
Vivan hadn’t called me after I chose to keep mum on marriage. It had been 40 days exactly. He proposed to me again, trying to make me understand the value of a ‘man’ in me and my daughter’s life. He also said that he loved me and needed me in his life but I chose to focus on the former.
My silence made him silent again. It was normal. Was it? I kept thinking about him. His genuine love and care during my pregnancy, and post-delivery made me fall in love with him. Truly!
Was I being unfair to my daughter, who deserved a perfect family? A loving father like Vivan. Vivan, who loved her like his own. And, I never failed to make him feel that I was an independent woman and didn’t need a man in my life. This was true but what about that tender feeling I had started nurturing for him? Why couldn’t
I accept his proposal?
This thought made me vulnerable, and filled me with a deep sense of loneliness, and longing. Every time, he returned with a call or surprise visit. Why couldn’t I call him for once? It was nothing to be
egoistic about.
“Papa,” Myra said again.We deserved a happy family life. Vivan was everything a woman could desire. I immediately dialled Vivan’s mobile number, my heart racing. Would it be inappropriate if I proposeto him? I thought and broke into a shy smile.
A woman answered the call. “Hello.”
She sounded young and really happy.
“Can I talk to Vivan?” I said, confused.
It had never happened before that someone else had answered his phone.
“Who is this?” The young, suspicious voice asked with authority.
I didn’t know what to say. “A colleague,”
I fumbled.
“Oh,” she said apathetically. “Darling,call for you.”
Darling? I tried to control my unfettered heartbeats. Shaking off my suspicion.
“Hello.” Vivan picked up the phone. It seemed that I was hearing his voice after ages. It formed a lump in my throat. “Hello,” he said again.
“How are you?” I said. “It’s Meera.”
“I know.” He sounded tired.
After a pause, he said something that hit me hard. “I am getting married, Meera.”
I was at a loss for words. The lump turned so hard that it felt like a stone.
“I waited for you, Meera. You never cared for me. You never showed respect for my feelings. My family couldn’t wait anymore. I couldn’t wait anymore.” He paused. I could hear his heavy breath. “I got engaged last week, and this relationship is not without any commitment. In fact, it came with strong commitments of two families. It would be better if we don’t talk again. Goodbye, Meera. Be happy.” He hung up leaving me numb.
How could I be happy? I lost something precious and I deserved this. Nothing waits for you forever. The charm of a relationship can never be one-sided. It takes two to cherish and nurture a life-long bond.
- By Tarang Sinha
