Posted:
Someone wrote about how the whole point of PR might be the lead pair's long distance and "pure" love for one another. That possibility does not warm the cockles of my heart: pining glances, fantasies, forced affection or togetherness with an unloved partner, and the glory of self-sacrifice are poor subsititutes for a genuinely fulfilled human relationship. So here's an FF alternative:
She woke up the morning after the sindoor episode feeling oddly light of heart. Manav's act, though it had wounded her deeply, had in some strange way freed her of the need to be the virtuously sacrificing wife. Was she still his wife, she wondered, in anything but name? And if she wasn't, if Shravani was now the de facto wife, was she herself the Other Woman? This was a novel thought. She had never seen herself in that role. Manav would soon come into the kitchen with his buckets. Hmm. She should set the water to boil. She wondered what Other Women did. Definitely not make tea. Perhaps an Other Woman would loosen her own plait instead (all in a sleepy night's unconscious disarray J), sit up with her back to the door, s-t-r-e-t-c-h lazily, and run her fingers provocatively through her own dark tresses. She felt herself undo her hair, and take a tentative stretch. Then another. She heard the clanking on the stairs. She turned away from the door. Now. She raised both her slender arms high, ran her fingers slowly through her hair, and lifted it to one side of her averted face. The smooth crescent of skin on her back shone pale in the half darkness. She heard the sharp indrawn breath at the door, the buckets put down hurriedly, water sloshing over the entrance to the kitchen. His footsteps hesitating for long moments, then quickly receding to the safety of the balcony. Ah. That felt surprisingly good. This Other Woman business might be better than she thought. She could - she would - make it better. She was so tired of weeping and hoping; no more of those piteous glances over cups of tea. Where had all that got her? She used to run like clockwork in the old days; hot tea at 5.40 on the dot. Well it wasn't going to be only water getting heated up from now on in this kitchen. She'd put some masala into his chai, so help her G-Bappa. Men were not terribly evolved beings; they blundered and bungled along and needed to be shown the light. And anyway didn't some sage or someone in the vedas or puranas or whatever say that life partners were supposed to take on many different roles in different circumstances? What was hers to be now… that long Sanskrit word that started with an A, ah yes, abhisarika. Nice. She liked the slow, expansive sound of it. Abhis-a-a-a-rika. She smiled.
Anupamaa
Kyunki Saas Bhi Kabhi Bahu Thi 2
