Chasing Her Shadow - Chapter Nine
Meera Srikant
16 August 2008, 09:33Continued From Chapter Eight
The meeting in the park had been constrained initially. Knowing that she didn’t look her best self, she had touched up a bit before coming out to meet him.
She was there first and saw him walk down five minutes later. From his walk, she could make out he was pretending to be indifferent. She quietly waited for him to say something when he reached her. She saw him surveying her face but if he noticed anything, he didn’t comment.
He was more upset than she had imagined. He sat slightly away and looked at the joggers. Finally, not able to tolerate the silence, he turned to her sharply, “Was it just a change of scenery you wanted or was it something more?”
Shyamala looked at him as calmly as she could. Slowly and softly she said, “You have been a great friend, Ravi. If I don’t share my problems with you, it is not because I don’t trust you. I am not made that way, that is all. And, I think I overreacted too.” She turned away for a second before looking at him again and saying, “But you don’t know what your presence meant to me that day.”
Ravi looked at her searchingly. “Is that what I am, a good friend?” he asked.
Puzzled, she asked, “Isn’t that important to you?”
“Do you know what you mean to me? The world! Have you ever known love? Do you know what love is? That is what I feel for you. But for you, I am a joke. I thought that was because you were taking your time to make up your mind. That we had something going and you just needed sometime to see it yourself. But you don’t even trust me. A good friend, indeed! I don’t want euphemisms!” Ravi blurted and got up. A couple of heads turned towards them, and he sat down, on the edge, his head between his hands. Softly, almost to himself, he added, “Or is it that you love someone else? At least tell me that!”
His words were like a knife twisted through her heart. She looked down and tears threatened to pour down. She took a deep breath. Did she know love? She looked up, her face flushed and pained.
She slowly shook her head and said, “No, Ravi, I have not known the kind of love you are talking of. I am sorry I hurt you. I was upset when you said you would not trouble me anymore. You, trouble me? You don’t know how much I have changed since I met you! You joke about my not talking much? But I have never felt more open with a person before. I like seeing you, yes. But I also carry a lot of demons with me,” she paused, looking far away. Finally, she got up and added, “But I see that I distress you. Maybe we should stop meeting, you are right.”
“The last week hasn’t been easy, keeping away from you. And how easily you say that I am right, that we should stop meeting!” Ravi exclaimed without getting up. He was next to her in a bound. “How I hoped that you would also feel the way I do! And all this about meeting me in a quieter place…! I am a fool,” Ravi slapped his forehead.
You mean a lot to me too. Maybe I don’t know if it is love or friendship or something else, Shyamala thought, but his intensity made her silent. She found her hand clutched, and Ravi literally hissing, “Say you will marry me, or I may go mad.”
Shyamala looked up startled, but before she could respond, Ravi dropped her hand and turned away, trying to calm himself. “I am sorry, this is not me. Let’s go.”
Shyamala sat down. She took his hand and made him sit down. “Yes, Ravi, I will marry you,” she said softly, almost in a whisper. But his ears were eager only to hear this and the change in his mood was rapid. She did not let any doubts come in the way to spoil this happiness.
Ravi asked her again and again, “Are you sure?”
Shyamala smiled, “You seem to be saying that a lot today. Do I ever say something that I am not sure of?”
***
Yes, she had said a yes. But soon she had wondered if she had done the right thing. She tried telling herself that she should either take courage and break off the relationship, or just shut up and go ahead. She missed having anybody to talk to about this. Her mother would be too shocked and would be of no help. In any case, she was gaga about her prospective son-in-law who was “so friendly and caring. You are lucky, Shyam.” Ravi’s parents too seemed pleased that finally he was off that Christian girl.
“You brood too much these days,” Ravi commented once, “or is it that you are feeling shy?” he asked with a twinkle in his eyes. His own reply seemed to satisfy him and he was sure marriage would cure it all. He did not want to prolong the engagement period and they were married quickly. Shyamala too preferred this, scared that she may change her mind at any point.
Once married, Shyamala found getting used to Ravi as her husband the strangest part. Love was not the first emotion she felt when thinking of him. And yet, out of habit, the two found enough to share and enjoy.
But, soon, differences surfaced. In fact, it was a wonder that their marriage had even survived for this long – a year-and-a-half! The honeymoon period was brief, but soon after, they found nothing to agree on. It was almost as if marriage had killed their friendship. Had she been responsible for that? She remembered being thoughtful and moody most of the times. How had Ravi been? She tried to picture the days… Yes, maybe she had a hand in spoiling their relationship. She could not adjust to his pace.
Once they married, he wanted the world to know his joy. He revived old friendships. She found herself edgy. To ease up, she took a break from her plays. While he seemed to get more and more exuberant, she remembered being smothered by all the attention they got. She would have loved a quieter period at home, and this difference gradually seeped into their relationship. She became even more doubtful of her intentions for marrying him, and couldn’t fathom why he had chosen her. Her gloominess reached him finally, and in one of his rare displays of frustrations, he exclaimed that she was probably regretting her decision to marry him. His insecurities surfaced again, and she could do nothing to convince him otherwise. She herself was so lost.
To avoid arguments, she resumed her theatre. That further irritated him. He rightly guessed that she wanted to be away from his world, but didn’t know how to bridge the difference.
“Do you think you can handle all this – work, home, theatre?”
“Why? What happened?” she asked, defensively. “You were OK with it before marriage?”
“That was different.”
“Pray, why? You yourself are so busy. Why is my timing bothering you?”
He would be quiet and then walk out.
“I can’t even invite friends home. You are never there,” Ravi started complaining.
She tried to remain calm, and gave the standard response, “But, you know about my schedule. Plus, your friends come anyway!”
“If they stop coming, are you going to cancel your rehearsals?” half earnest, half angry.
She would respond with silence. It was not that she didn’t like having them come over. But not almost every evening, giving them no time to themselves!
He took to pulling her leg in front of his friends and relatives. “She is a busybee. Meet her at work or theatre!!”
It added to the strain in their relationship. She wondered how it would have been if she had married Satish. Worse, she kept wondering if he compared her to Mary, and that made her irritable. She found herself revisiting her reasons for marrying him. She couldn’t help looking back.
It was a wonder that their marriage had survived the initial storm. Should she have just let go?
*
After one such ugly fight, she took off from work, complaining of headache.
He didn’t comment, which was normal after a fight. It would be sometime before he would come around to talking to her. Or before she could brace up to tell him what was on her mind. But, that day, she remembered, was the day she had decided to find answers.
She wondered how her mother would have handled this. Patiently? She lay down after breakfast, staring at the ceiling. She remembered the previous evening’s fight about the chest of drawers he wanted to buy that she had thought was an extravagance. That was another point of contention. Their taste in furniture, their approach to building their home – oh, just about everything was so different! She had again accused him of being extravagant. At one point, she called him a despot and regretted that she had accompanied him to the shop. What a word – despot!
Why were they such good friends before and not so now? Neither had changed – couldn’t have changed in such a short time! There was a time when they were meeting almost every day. What a grave mistake to have killed that relationship by marrying!
She thought of the incident the day before. She had gone with him, determined not to start a fight, and had ended up being nasty. She suddenly giggled thinking of the shopkeeper’s face. One moment he was sure of selling the chest to this customer, and the next moment, the customer just walked out with no indication of what upset him! The sales guy’s jaw dropped as he looked helplessly at her. Even she was shocked. “How funny he must have thought us to be,” she thought. She felt like laughing even now at their childishness, letting a piece of wood cause a fight. Or his friends.
They had little realised then that bigger bones awaited their turn.
She beamed at him that evening. Their reconciliations were usually slow and painful. She had made something special for dinner and was not bringing up the previous evening’s fight! He was nonplussed, but waited to see what all this was about. She felt snubbed, but tried to maintain a cheery front.
That was the turning point. She started treading carefully, became her old self, not letting her emotions get the better of her. It helped her, for even if he was angry, she didn’t react and felt more centred. But it was very difficult for him, and he often misconstrued her intentions. Her attempts at handling tension with humour almost back-fired as Ravi mistook it for sarcasm.
She took a break from her plays and started devoting more time at home. It was still not easy for her to take things easy, but then, without small fights, where was the spice in marriage? With a steady mind, she constructed his character and worked on the parts she liked and then reconstructed the person. It took him sometime to notice the change. If he was happy about this, he didn’t show. But she noticed that he also pitched in his bit by being more tolerant about differences.
Continued In Chapter Ten
