Mirage

He sat in front of the TV, legs resting on the coffee table, one hand gently encircling the coffee mug; the other, subconsciously toying with the remote. He was swapping channels mindlessly, not even bothering to glance at the random images flitting across the screen. His wife looked at him and thought, “Men! They never know what they want!”

His mind was somewhere else. His mind was on her. He wondered what it was, that attracted him to her. He loved the way she brushed aside the occasional wisp of hair that disturbed her concentration, oblivious to that fact that, she looked beautiful when she did that. He loved that she was unaware of her beauty and its effect on him. That was what made her more beautiful in his eyes. A pleasant shiver of anticipation tingled down his spine as he thought of her, running towards the rickshaw, unmindful of the stares of the people around her, hair flying, pallu tucked in the saree, partially covering her beautiful waist. A bead of perspiration shining on her nose [when she concentrated on the task ahead], competing with the diamond that perched on there. Was that the moment he fell in love with her? He was behaving like a teenager experiencing puppy love,he thought. “I am a much married man with two children!” he gently chided himself. He smiled at his own folly.

His wife watched the flitting expressions on his face from the corner of the room. She didn’t fail to notice his smile that lingered a bit too long to go unnoticed. She was noticing the changes that were taking place……..

“Yes, I have changed” he admitted to himself. He was finding it difficult to avoid her gaze. She must have guesses that something was amiss the way he looked at her, devouring her every nuance with his gaze. He had stopped observing discretion about it. He openly gazed at her now a days …….. It would not be long before She confronted him with all this.

“Should he tell Her?” he wondered…, she would laugh... call him a fool. She was a married woman she would tell him, with kids; and no time for a flimsy thing called love. House loans, her son’s exams, were her priority right now. Many years ago they both had confessed to each other that they didn’t believe in romantic notions of love. For her, security and trust were more important. For him, his parents approval mattered the most….they had left the discussion at that …not wanting to reveal each other further.

The coffee mug lay empty, lounging horizontally on the coffee table, staining the cross-stitched table cloth.

His wife was intently observing him. She never had illusions about their marriage. She knew her husband didn’t love her in the conventional way. Their was an arranged marriage and his parents approved of her. Her parents were also happy with the match. Things had seemed to progress smoothly for all these years. They had settled into a comfort zone of their of their own .However, she now felt threatened. She had known that something was bothering him and had tried broaching the subject; but her husband seemed to draw further away from her, retreating into his own private world., not wanting to share his fears, his insecurities…

He liked the way She sensed his moods, the way She supported him silently, letting him know She was aware that he was disturbed…but never pestering him about the whys and hows of his disturbances. She showed that she was his ally by just being there. He knew he could share his feelings, his fears, his insecurities with her.She was his friend… his ally.

His wife felt like a trespasser. Day by day her husband was getting further apart from her. Cocooning himself with his thoughts. She was sure that there was the proverbial other woman in his life. His wife decided that she couldn’t be insulted like this any more. She would leave the house tomorrow … there would be no more explanations.... she would ask for none.

He knew he had to tell her soon. He had to confess that he had fallen in love with her. She wouldn’t be expecting such a shock, but then he would tell her that he was as shocked by this revelation as she. He didn’t know when and how it happened.
He wouldn’t be able to hide it anymore from her. He had to confess. He would confess it tomorrow. He imagined her reaction when he confessed his love for her. When would tell her that he was sure that no one could understand him better that her. He imagined the amused expressions her eyes would have, as she would brush aside the errant wisp of hair… intently listening to his explanation. Her eyes shining, competing with glistening diamond on her nose… Tomorrow, he would explain….

“There would be no more explanations!” his wife thought, with an air of finality. Tomorrow she would tell her husband that she planned to leave him. The reason ? she didn’t love him . she didn’t want to give him a chance to scorn her, hurt her anymore, humiliate her. A chance to reject her by saying he loved someone. NO. she would tell him that all was over between them. Once their’s son’s exam was over, they were free to separate and lead independent lives…..

“Tomorrow” he thought

“Tomorrow it would be” his wife sighed, brushing aside an errant wisp of her hair . her eyes were shining with tears, competing with the glistening diamond on her nose.