“Time is 6:30 AMâ€, said the accentuated female voice of the talking clock. Shivakumar fumbled for its off button with his right hand. When finally it stopped talking, he was completely awake from his sleep. Even through the soft rumbling of the AC, he could hear noises coming from the only occupied room in that floor. “Did she start very early this morning?†The noises of clinking glasses mixed with muffled human voice, when it reached his ears. He looked at the family photo on top of his bedroom chest. Meera looked just like her mom with curly tendrils adorning her face. But Nisha was different. Whom did she resemble? There was always a mysterious seriousness in her face. Rarely did she smile while taking snaps. And Ajith, he never looked like her or me. His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the crashing sound of glass from the other room. Today Shyamala has to spend, 4-5 hrs cleaning all the mess, he thought. It must have become her habit, now.
He took his reading glasses and after slowly wiping it, placed them on his nose. Today is the day. The day I was waiting for past 40 yrs. My life is going to go though a drastic metamorphosis, and still the world looks so ordinary. He thought while looking thru the window at the already crept dawn. I have to tell her today.
After having bath, he went downstairs, to the dining room. Shyamala has put breakfast in the table. He glanced through The Hindu’s headlines, while sipping the juice from the glass. He could still hear glasses crashing on the room from the first floor. As it has become a part of his life, for past 25 years, it never disturbed him. After having his juice, he carefully took those documents from the blue file he carried. Taking a deep breath, he slowly walked to her room.
The room wasn’t locked. When he opened, he nearly expected a glass to fly over his head. No, this time she has become unconscious much early. Carefully walking thru the broken glass, he went to the table where she was sitting. Two empty bottles of Smirnoff Vodka were still rolling on the floor. One Broker's London Dry bottle was half empty on the table. Salini was sitting with drooping eyes, talking to herself, her sound becoming hoarse after continuous hours of shouting. She didn’t see him.
He looked at her, as if he was seeing her for the first time. 40 yrs before, when he married her, while she was 15, he had only one intention. To pay back, for all the money her father spent to make him take an FRCS from Edinburgh. Now, at 65, with 3 kids married and settled in various parts of UK, finally he wanted his life back. At 55, alcoholism had swallowed Salini completely like a hungry demon. Will she understand what I am going to tell her, in this state?
He put a hand on her shoulder. She slightly stirred. He noticed her clothes sticking to the hollow in her chest, after the surgery he himself performed on her, for breast-cancer. He felt pity. But no, I can’t take it any more. 40 yrs I suffered. I need my life back now at 65 yrs. He had told his decision to all his 3 kids, last night. They just listened. They were all her babies… not mine. They, the future owners of the eminent City Medical Center!!!. But they had a father. Dr. Shivakumar, MS, FRCP(Edinburgh). MD of City Medical Center and visiting professor of AIIMS. But they always thought they were only Shalini’s, who hadn’t even passed 10th std. He shut his eyes tightly, for one second, trying to wipe off pain.
He slowly took the papers out of the file. “Shalini, I talked to kids. Now I have to talk to you. I know you will be the best in your senses, only now. When I come back at night, you are usually totally unconscious. So I have to talk to you now. Shalini, are you listening?â€
He put the papers in the table, near the half empty Gin bottle, and leaned towards her.
(…continued in Part-2 ..)
we finally got out of the warmth of our home...
(and thinks that it is sweeter than the woman who sits near him!!!)
