A battle within
It was time to shut shop. He put the tools in the tool box, wiped his greased hands on the rag and went on to clean up. He closed the shutters and locked up. He walked drearily to the station to catch a train to take him home. Tomorrow his dream marriage was about to end. He looked listlessly about the platform. There was no rush to go home. Who was there anyway? Why did he say that? His family was there and more so his new bride-to-be would be there. He grimaced and ran his hand through his hair. The train arrived and he got in. The compartment was almost empty at this late hour. Just like his life he thought…….. empty of joy.
He closed his eyes and rested his back against the wall. His wife's pretty face swam into view. When would she stop entering his mind? He had cast her out of his life, hadn't he? He had immersed his brother's ashes in the sea. He and his brother's fiance had been the funeral site. His wife had come there dressed in a shimmering gold silk saree, a saree that complimented her. He was a bit taken aback at seeing her so elaborately dressed. He hadn't seen the saree before. Was this the last gift his brother had bought for her? How had it reached her? His mother? Had she gone to her house?
Why had he allowed Archana to attend? He had told Shravani it was so that she could atone for her mistake. Was that really the truth?
What indeed was her mistake? She had time and again pleaded her innocence. Yet something prevented him from believing her. The images of his mother being beaten and his sister being thrashed revolved in his mind. This had upset him more than anything. No one had been spared. He opened his eyes and shook his head. He looked out of the window and was glad the wind cooled his brow. However, the wind could not blow the cobwebs away. When was he going to wake up? When was he going to face reality?
The moment he had seen her Vahini in the police station he should have realised that something was wrong. After all she was Ajit's sister and couldn't be any less of a malicious person than he. He should have realised that it was her masterstroke and had taken refuge behind his wife. And yet again his wife had been made a scapegoat. But at that moment as now he was full of anger. Archana was somehow bearing the brunt of his ire. He wanted to hurt the supercilious and often unscrupulous members of her family. They called him uncouth and infra dig yet what were they? Her sisters weren't to blame. But her mother, brother and sister-in-law were the callous ones for they were continually accusing him. Not one to argue, his wife had always been prevented from interacting with him. And her father? He had proved to be nothing but a super ingrate.
Seeing his sister petrified of meeting people outside and his mother hurt from the ordeal at the lock-up, he had gone angrily to their house with his mother. He had wanted them to see what they had done. He had wanted to see remorse on their faces. But there hadn't been any. Only the girls had been shocked. His anger had known no bounds. He had twisted Archana's arm behind her back and she had yelped with pain. He had been horrified when he saw her hurt face but he had remained expressionless. He had wanted them to see how it hurts when one sees pain inflicted on dear ones. He knew nothing would change them and he was disgusted with them. Maybe it was a good thing that he was separated from her.
It was an easy escape route for her ….. to be rid of him, then why didn't she take it? Why did she keep coming to show sympathy? His eyes narrowed. He realised that most of the time she came on her own. Did it mean she had gone against her family? He smiled cynically. That was never going to happen. He had always had to struggle to gain her confidence and it had got to be a bit too much. He decided it wasn't worth it anyway. She was probably better off with someone like Satish. But Satish had said that he loved Varsha. He shook his head. He had had enough of that ridiculous lot. He would concentrate on what was ahead of him.
And what exactly lay in store for him? A divorce and a quick marriage? A loveless marriage to his dead brother's pregnant fiance? Why had he offered to marry her? He had refused to listen to the sane voice of his father. His father had full faith in his DIL and didn't want his son to be tied to anyone else. He had told his father, it didn't matter any more since joy would never knock on his door again. He was determined to shelter his brother's unborn.
Deep down he knew it was neither his responsibility nor his duty to offer marriage. Like his father had advised he should have tried to salvage his marriage since circumstances had made his wife a little more responsive. But he was stubborn. He continued to blame her for his brother's death. Why so? She wasn't the cause of it. Sachin's frame of mind was unsteady due to the breaking of the engagement by Girish sir. Girish Sir never liked Sachin just the way his mother never liked Archana. His mother's reputation of being a belligerent person had preceded her. Often the anxious father would explain the circumstances to him. He disapproved of the scene between his mother and Archana at the engagement. But he had convinced Girish Sir that it wouldn't happen again. And Girish Sir had reluctantly relented. He knew his brother's behaviour had been far from exemplary. Eve-teasing, gambling and blackmarketeering had been his pastime…………till his wife had come into their life. Sachin had slowly changed after that.
He got off the train and started walking home in the dark night. As usual he wasn't hungry. He entered his house. He saw that everyone was asleep. He went to the terrace and looked out at the sky. Earlier when Shravani pointed out that he was still in love with his wife and she with him, he had told her he didn't want to talk about it. He wasn't going to allow anyone to talk to him about love. That was his private matter which he would not discuss with anyone. The few moments he had shared with his beloved would last him a long time.
As he looked into the sky, he first saw her smiling shy face, then her teary face, then the way she pleaded with him with folded hands. He lifted his hands to rub his face. Why Archana? Why is the world against us….. he thought. He rested his hands on the balustrade. Why wasn't she here with him? Why wasn't she with him when he needed her the most? He was in grief. He had lost his brother. He had lost his marriage. He had lost his trust in life. All he wanted was for her to be by his side. He wanted her to put balm on his bruises. He wanted to rest his head on her lap. He wanted her to sit silently next to him. He wanted to hold her. He realised he couldn't do without her. She was the only thing that mattered. But life had posed other problems. He could have circumvented them but he didn't even try.
Time stood still for a moment to ponder upon the distraught man. Why was this man making a bed of nails to sleep on? His shoulders shook as heartache overtook him. He couldn't think as the roar of pain in his heart became deafening. Manav Deshmukh whispered "Archana" over and over again. Like a drowning man clutching at straw!!
Only Bappa could do something to help.
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