“I am fed up with your lame excuses for not doing things. Sometimes I feel like I made a blunder mistake of marrying you. We already had a lot of discussions on this. Countless times I have told you not to share everything with your parents. But, seems you are not in the mood of listening. Who the hell are they to interfere in our family life.”
A few minutes’ silence. “It’s 8.30 A.M already and you are not yet done with my lunch-box. You are good for nothing. I don’t need it now. You give it to stray dogs. I swear to God, one day I will be leaving you alone with your this stubborn attitude.”
Like every other morning, I again had an argument with my wife.
With full rage and anger, I slammed the door. While I was sitting in the car, I realized that I am not carrying my wallet. This made me madder because last night I kept it next to the ashtray of my car. I was so full of ire that I feel like blowing a punch on the window glass.
“Where is my wallet?” I shouted at the wife. “I took it out this morning; milkman was asking for his payment. I am sorry, I forgot to put it back,” her voice was trembling with every word that came out of her mouth.
Although I sensed the fear in her voice, yet, I choose not to calm down.
“Do not you dare to touch my things,” I shouted.
I saw, my wife was not there at the gate to bid me goodbye as usual. “Who cares,” I said to myself and I was on my way.
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I turned on the radio and I was trying to calm myself down. “Tere bina zindagi se koi shikwa to nahi,” was the song, I still remember. It was like, perfect timing of radio guys; as they already know what I have been through just a moment ago.
With every passing kilometer, I was losing my senses. I was blowing the horn at every passerby, “yeh bike wale gaddi ki lane mein kyo aa jate hai. Anpad lok. (Why do these bikers drive in car lane? Illiterate fellows).”
I was changing gears more violently and I was throwing punches on the car steering. “It is enough now, I see no good reason for staying with her. She had made my life as terrible as hell. This weekend, I will finish it off. I will call her parents and mine too. Enough is enough.” I was talking to myself.
The music in the car was at its fullest volume and suddenly I realized my phone is ringing. I pulled my mobile phone out of my pocket and I saw, it was my wife. “No, I am not going to answer it. I am not interested in any of her story. I hung it up.” After driving a few more miles, another ring on my phone and again my wife.
I was so pissed off by this time that I jumped the red-light. The traffic police constable whistled at me and instructed me to pull my car to the side. “Bhai Saab, red-light jump karke kahan ja rahe ho” (Sir, what are you up to? You just jumped red-light).
Sorry sir, I was little upset, failed to stop at red-light, I said. The traffic constable issued me a challan ticket and punched my driving license. “Bus yahi hona baki tha.” This lady is so unlucky for me.
With a penalty notice for careless driving, I rushed towards my car again. Before sitting, I picked up my phone from the driver seat. “What the hell, ten missed calls from my wife’s number?” Keep doing, I am not going to take any of your calls. I reached my office. I was parking my car and I again had a call.
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This time, it was my neighbor and I picked it up. “Why you were not taking up the calls?” I was the one calling from your wife’s number. My wife went to your apartment to invite you guys for the ring ceremony of my son. She found your wife collapsed on the floor. The society people called an ambulance and they took your wife to the hospital. Reach the soonest you can because as per doctors, it is a major heart-attack and the chances of survivals are next to zero.
I was in complete shock; rushed to the hospital. She was on a ventilator and on seeing me, she smiled at me. She raised her hand and asked me to hold her hand.
“I apologize for the troubles that I gave you. I always tried my best to keep you happy. I know, I am not a perfect match for you and I am a bad omen. I took away your happiness. I am sorry for everything and please try to forgive me. Once I will reach God’s door, I will pray for you and will request God to give you the best possible match.”
While she was saying all this to me, I was looking into her eyes that were constantly blinking. The tears were finding their way out.
I was holding her hand like I did on our wedding at the time of marriage vows. I hold her hand with both my hands, “Stop it you fool. Nothing is going to happen you. I am sorry too. I love you more than anything else. I won’t let you go anywhere.”
I was completely broken and suddenly I notice that her hand is becoming heavier than usual. I was trying to tight my grip, but it was slipping from my hand like sand. I saw a straight line on the cardiac monitor. I was screaming for doctors.
A team of doctors came in and after a few minutes; “I am sorry, she is no more,” said one of them. I was cursing me because I was the one, who asked her to die (mar kyo nahi jati tum, picha chute mera). With a deep sigh! It was a pin-dropped silence and I was looking at her face; tears were rolling down to my cheeks. It was like, somebody had looted every single thing that I had. She was gone; far away from my reach.
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It has been a year now and every time I listen, “Tere bina zindagi se koi shikwa to nahi,” it gives me goosebumps. Now I have no one to wake me up, to serve me tea, to take care of every smallest thing that I need, someone who used to ask me whether I had my lunch or not? I am really missing that special person with whom I shared a quality time of my life.
All I have is a lizard of her memories that roams around the whole house during the night and with the first ray of sun, it hides back somewhere behind her photograph. Wish, I had controlled my anger that day. Now, I usually talk with her. Now I know the real meaning of absence; its more painful than death. “Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder,” someone said.
It is human nature; we value things after losing them. Despite knowing that nobody is perfect, the stubbornness of making someone perfect never dies. And, this is basically killing everything.
We lack patience and the worst part is we love making mountains out of molehills. Now that I have lost her, I ask myself, why it was so difficult for me to accept her exactly the way she was?