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Index:
Chapter 1 (below)
Chapter 2 (page 3)
Chapter 3 (page 9)
Chapter 4 (page 12)
Chapter 5 (page 14)
The orange hues of a fast arriving autumn were already apparent in her wardrobe. Everything from her maroon colored smile to the ox-blood boots she must have taken months to find screamed the name of a drying season. Just like fall, she was stuck in the limbo between rain and snow, between love and separation, holding on and letting go.
The boardwalk looking out of her window led to a hiking trail up the hills, down to the lake, through the streams of rainwater collected from heart of the city. And just like the lost trail struggling to find identity in chaos, she was busy picking up the pieces of her scattered life.
Madhubala, the name was too big to be contained in a defining sentence, too glorious to be given an objective meaning. Madhubala was what you made of her. No, what you made her. A hassle free child to two ordinary parents, a hard working student to grateful teachers, an exceptional entrepreneur to proud mentors, a blessing to every friend or acquaintance, and a polite host to annoying relatives. If there was one relationship she could not get right, it was marriage. At times, she was too defiant, too independent, too strong willed, too cold for her husband. At others, she was too needy, too pitiful, too subservient; never good enough. She was never adequate for him. And theirs wasn't a union of force, rather mutual consent. He'd discovered her living a quiet life on the foothills of Himalayas and thought maybe his bustling city schedule would be a nice contrast to her demure beginnings.
She welcomed his team of film crew with open arms, as a modest resident of small towns should. He wasn't overtly rude in his dealings with the locals and she took note of these mild manners. When he casually proposed she try living with him, she gave his question some thought. Living in detached harmony with the surroundings had long been her way of life. Sure her business of brewing local coffee was booming. But her heart wasn't set in the mountains. She could continue her way up the ranks from any place on earth. Her life moved wherever she did. Plus, the prospect of visiting her ageing parents in their Marathi home was tempting. So, she picked up shop and came to city of dreams with someone who could be the man of her dreams.
Seeing his reputation as a renowned actor, her parents had no problems approving of their engagement. Before she knew it, a date was set and they were married after less than six of dating.
The wedding night passed like a regular wedding night should, without sex. Apparently, an emergency re-shoot of an upcoming release was more important than the release of a sexual being in need. But the days following weren't half-bad. Being her own boss, she was able to schedule her day around her husband's unpredictable days. If he was occupied on set, she found ways to sneak food in between his takes. If he was too exhausted, she made surprise massage trips to his green room. If he was too angry, she was right by his side with a calming hand. But his happiness wasn't shared, not with her. If a movie succeeded, it was always a social party he chose over a private date with her. If he got sponsor money, it would be spent on drinks by the end of the night. And when she sat by his bedside with a her heart was full of stories, ready to spill, he would too sleepy to listen. She kept it all to herself.
Even when he forgot her birthday, or the day they first met, or got married, she scolded him slightly. But with squinting eyes and mock guilt ridden expressions, he melted the anger right off her face.
It wasn't adultery that broke them apart, or a big failing in trust. It was always the little things. With two years of one-sided affection, she felt too much like a commodity, a convenience who only existed to give. And she gave him hints.
"I love you Rishabh", she would say. "But sometimes love is not enough". He would simply nod in response like her words were white noise.
One day, she mustered up the courage to speak her mind. "If you can't comfort me when I need you most, I must end this. We can't be together, not like this".
"Okay", was all he said as he engulfed in a hug. Her hot tears on his chest evoked no response. With her head buried in his arms, she wondered if he even heard her.
The next day, her things were packed and she was on a flight back to the hills. A quiet divorce followed with no alimony clauses, their prenup had made him victorious. Or so he thought, until a month later he was back in her shop...hands covered in cold sweat and shaking legs barely pulling on his weight.
"Can we talk?" he pleaded and thus began his second chance at a happy ending.
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