[Year 2005}
"Dear Red,
I hope you have been well. I know you must be surprised to hear from me so suddenly after almost a year of complete silence. I am sorry for leaving so quietly. Even though I did not know my life would take such a turn, I made a conscious choice so you have every right to blame me. You can hate me now, be angry, despise me, do whatever you want because I deserve it all.
I left you alone in that monstrous city because I chose the easy life. My brother, no, the man I who called us that night...I married him. I am living in Delhi now. He's the Vice President of a hospital chain so I don't have to work outside of home. I just dress up and look pretty next to him.
I know I have no right to say this but I am going to be selfish once again. I am going to keep writing to you. You don't have to read my emails. In fact, I would appreciate it if you don't. I am going to use this address as my personal diary. I am going to write down all my thoughts and store them away in a far corner where no one can find them but you.
I...I want to be happy...and I want you to be happy. Eat well and live well without me. And make sure to show me how bad a decision I made. Be successful and make me regret my choice. That's my last wish from you".
"I will always love you". She wrote and subsequently deleted this last line.
"The woman who once loved you", she wrote instead.
[Present Day]
Her tired figure emerged from the supplies closet, the content looking husband following close behind.
"What are you going to do? Go home?" He leaned against the doorway watching her change clothes.
"What would you like me to do?" she blinked twice but did not bother with a look in his direction.
"Wanna join me to the meeting?"
"No", she replied.
"Okay, should I take you home then?"
"No need", she said.
"Then, do you want to you want to come to the gallery opening tonight? You know I am not good with art". He rubbed his lower lip with his calloused finger and waited patiently for her answer.
"No", she refused yet again.
"Then, what are you going to do?"
"I want to be alone", her anger was palpable.
"Until when? Umm? How much longer do I have to put up with this? What is so important that you can't help your husband out for a bit? It's not like you have a job to fall back on".
Was this bas***d threatening her right now? She dreamt up two things in one second- her baseball bat and his head. Bam!
"And whose fault is that?" she screamed.
"Yours, of course. I never coerced you into anything Madhubala. From our wedding to your quitting work, that was all on your own accord".
"Okay, I will take the blame alone. I am wrong and you are right. Are we done now?"
"What are you angry about wife?"
"I said I am not going to the gallery opening. End of discussion!"
"Then, the meeting?"
"Shut your mouth, why don't you?"
"Madhubala!" he darted toward her wearing that intimidating stare from earlier. "Do you think you alone can raise your voice?"
"..."
"Do not take advantage of my nicety. Go home and get dressed. A car will pick you up at seven".
"Why even pretend to care about my opinion?"
"You think I would let you walk all over me? Dream on! Every one of my move is calculated. I am doing all this for my own benefit so don't make the mistake of thinking I am considering you in my life outcomes. Understood?"
Understand she did. Ten years of living with the corporate drone master had made her aware of one thing above all others- he would not and probably could not get rid of the politico dirt so deeply rooted in his life. Every action was a play, every person a chess pawn. She was just one of many drawstrings in his stronghold on the way to presidency.
[City Art Gallery]
"Oh, wife. You're here?" he extended an arm of gratitude and she promptly accepted it with a solemn bow. They walked the red carpet all smiles for the cameras. The narrow hallways of the gallery open out to spacious corridors full of herds of wine drinking socialites and impressed looking hipsters.
"The exhibition is called 'a woman in my bed'", he pointed to the mosaic of oil paintings and flash photography shots so uniquely designed to mimic set of tattoos. It was the portrait of a man and a woman sharing a piece of bread made from countless pictures of a woman's body parts.
"No matter what way I look at it, this artist must have really loved his girl. I mean I can tell these are nudes but he hasn't given away her face. Anyway, whomever this is, she's a sure a lucky star. Ain't it, wife?"
"That...who is the artist again?" she gulped back her nerves and assured herself this was a slim possibility. The sky wasn't falling. The world had so many good looking women, she probably just resembled the model.
"Umm? I don't know the name...some red cat or something? What do we care? It's just a gift for the investors".
"What did you say?"
"It's a gift..."
"Re...r..ed cat?"
"Yes"
"Honey", she struggled to gather her thoughts. "Honey, I don't want to hide things from you so don't get shocked by what I say. Sit down first. Don't say a word and just listen to me carefully. That is... the woman in those pictures is...me".
Bade Achhe Lagte Hain
Anupamaa
CID
Kabhi Neem Neem Kabhi Shahad Shahad
Fan Fictions
