Mimosa with Samosa, Manisha (Part-9)

I don’t know how this is justified. Having a crush on someone you won’t have any relations with. That too when you are trying to salvage your stable relation in life. But I am loving the feeling of getting on a mental high with R. In a few hours that we spent together today, he made me realize how good the company of someone emoting verbally is. He has showered me the attention and flirtatiousness I have never gotten from any man in my life. For everyone I am the Mrs. Shah that needs to be respected. I don’t understand how women cheat on their husbands. Even a stray attraction is causing ethical havocs in my mind. May be that’s where culture comes into play. But then, culture is not a barrier to love and lust, as history has proven time and again.

Jignesh doesn’t even notice my happiness over nothing, and life is as usual in the Shah household. Silent, and dead emotionally. My two daughters are back on track with their singing and dancing and math, like good Indian kids. Madhuri has forgotten or pretends to forget everything she went through and has moved on with better things in life.

I didn’t think it would be that easy after that suicide attempt. We still go to her counseling sessions twice a week where she is supposed to talk to a psychiatrist about her mental state, as of now, and looks like she has no plans to do anything dangerous any more. Her grandparents think that it was all because of me, pestering her to do well in studies and pressurizing her with Kumon and stuff while she has a bright future singing bhajans in the temple on the weekends. I am conditioned to ignore their existence by now, and I carry on as if they were invisible.

My daughter needs to live life on her own terms and learn from her own mistakes. No one will tell her what to do, and she will not follow their heartless decisions and sacrifice her soul.

I sit down, sipping a cup of cold orange juice when I hear a thud upstairs. My girls can be very loud at times. They forget that they are old enough to stop jumping up and down the beds and furniture. I put my drink to the side and go to check on them, only to see my father-in-law lying in the bathroom, unconscious. Another call to 9-1-1 and here we are the hospital, signing paperwork while supporting Jignesh’s mother and answering thousand questions by her, asking thousand questions to the doctors. He is in coma we are told.

His mother sits on the chair as if the doom’s day was declared and Jignesh stood against the wall, without uttering a word. I wanted someone to say something, that they feel sad, that they are heartbroken, but they seal their lips. On a whim, I go and hug Jignesh, and next thing I know is he is crying, with his head over my shoulder, holding me tight. I forget all about the ailing old man and wonder if I didn’t take the first step to open my arms for him.

I go home to be with the girls, worried that they shouldn’t have invited someone over, or shouldn’t have slashed their wrists over nothing. Madhuri has made me an overly cautious mother. Nimisha will bear the brunt of the air of mistrust her sister has created. But, better safe than sorry.

I cancel the next day’s appointment for our marriage counseling. There was something I noticed in the folder that we got from the front desk.. It was a checklist to screen us for other psychiatric illnesses, and the one that Jignesh completed showed all signs of depression. He said he had suicidal tendencies. He said he never feels loved. He said he felt disinterest in life. How could he? With all the attention we gave him? His parents gave him enough attention, enough love. Wasn’t that not enough for him? I wanted to leave everything and go hold him and tell him that I love him more than anyone else in the whole world. I nag, but only to love him more. I pick up the phone, and send him a lovely email to make him loved, and supported, and notice Vani’s email.

These days Vani is trying to be a writer. She writes, but I don’t see a writer. I may be wrong. I am not the one who would spend time reading some Indian author and analyze their lives. I am rather content reading “The Firm” and “The Associate” that won’t have any associations with my life, and my thoughts. I read Black, and I have to agree that Vani is improving. It won’t be long before she dishes out the samosa-ic episodes of her life and ours in some bindi-bangle-sari book and pass it off as a thin fiction. Especially with a good story like Madhuri’s, you never know. I send a “great” comment to keep her happy, and move on with my life. Sixteen years after we married each other I send him a love note to tell him that he is loved and appreciated by his family, and moreover by his wife. I hope it gives him the much needed support.

The next few weeks went very fast. There were so many things happening around us. Iyer bought a house, and just for preparing his paperwork, gave me a three percent commission. I felt guilty for charging such a hefty amount for almost no work, and returned half a percent. That was the end of him in my life. But now that he is pleased with my services, there will be many more Iyer clients. We had a moment at the new house when we went for the walk through and were waiting for the seller’s realtor to show up. It felt as if I will give in and ruin sixteen years of faithful married life, but I didn’t. I closed my eyes and all I could see was the little paper that Jignesh ticked of “not loved”, and I pushed away any thoughts that would pollute my mind and my body.

My father-in-law is in a care center, still in coma, and I shuttle my mother-in-law once every evening to see him. At first Jignesh and the kids came everyday and spent two hours in the evening. Then it became an hour a day, and these days it’s once during the week and once during the weekend. But I can’t see my mother-in-law’s face if she doesn’t meet her husband. I forget, I forgive and move on with life with a larger heart, and she probably is guilty of her actions now. She doesn’t say anything, but her silence says a thousand words. There is something nice about being a bigger person, and I am enjoying that vague emotion.

Neena had a tragic accident in the fire, and has lost her house. I am playing mommy to her kids also while she is recovering. Shri has blanked out emotionally, and I am amazed by the love he has for Neena. I heard he quit his job to be with her at this difficult time. She is mostly on sedatives and looks a little, may I say, scary, but he sits outside her room and spends his days and nights on a small chair. I have to get her paperwork done for the insurance, and find them a new house to move in soon. This time it would be without commission.

I spy my girls. Every move them make on the internet and in real life, I am scared that they are doing something wrong. Madhuri has matured a lot, and probably that was the end of exploration for now, and Nimisha doesn’t show any signs of doing the mistake her sister did. I am on guard anyway. I am conditioned to be now. I make an effort to talk to their friends, and their parents and know them well. My girls still don’t wear the teen fashion nor do they follow teen icons. But that is their personal choice.

Jignesh and I never made it to the counselor’s office, but we have opened up a lot to each other. I have learnt to let go, and he has learnt to cling on to what is his to keep it his. We are not picture perfect happy couple but we are happy. I still think Shri loves Neena a lot and she is very lucky to have him in her life, and so is Vani. With all her crazy moods, she should be glad that she has everything a woman wishes for. A great career, a loving husband and a lot of money. I pick three things that make me happy everyday and try to focus on myself and my relation with Jignesh than compare him to others and lose heart. Sometimes I succeed, sometimes I fail. That is life, and it will go on.