Just Like That

by Mona Bhageria Adurty

He was standing near the gate like he always did. I think he liked the breeze ruffling his curly hair, although I daresay he wouldn’t have admitted it to anyone. With his favourite football jersey paired with another one of his blue jeans (might have been the same one, very difficult to tell the difference) and coaching class bag, he had the same dreamy expression and mischievous faint smile on his face. At the next stop, the couple got in. He looked at me and smiled, and then looked away.

It was our private joke. The couple who got in at the last stop was recently married, and the wife wanted the entire world to know the fact. She would keep blowing kisses and muttering (within everyone’s earshot) the weirdest possible nicknames to a very embarrassed looking husband. He would keep looking at his watch until his wife got down at her stop and we would look at each other and smile.

No, I didn’t know his name; neither did I want to know. All I could gather was the name of his coaching class and the fact that he was a major football fan. And also that, we both found the couple funny, everyday.

I was studying for my graduation at my hometown, Indore those days and took bus no. 212 from Rajwada to Geeta Bhavan – from the palace to the temple, from history to religion, everyday. And somewhere in the middle, I had an excuse to share a smile with him.

In the early 80’s, Indore lived upto its name – inward looking, a little closed. It would take a few more years before it became an educational hub teeming with thousands of teenagers, as it is now. Those days, there were more of separate boys and girls commerce and arts colleges than co-ed engineering institutions, there were more families in a restaurant than groups of friends, there were more parks for kids than coffee shops, and more importantly, it was difficult for a girl to share a glance or smile with a guy considering that most of her family resided in the same city. That was all I wanted anyway, a little secret of my own.

Time went by, and before I knew it, I was a graduate, ready to be married off into some traditional household who would proudly claim to its relatives that their daughter-in-law is a graduate. That was the way it was done those days and I had no particular reason to expect otherwise. So when an average looking guy (a graduate, obviously) from a grain merchant’s family came knocking at my door, my family happily obliged. The guy’s family was well-off, the guy was educated and we could meet their demands. There was no apparent reason to say no, hence I didn’t (or rather my family didn’t). I wore my mom’s best saree and sat down dutifully while my prospective mother–in-law asked me if I knew how to cook. I did not, but my mother had already coached me properly on this. There would be enough time to learn later. I think that they also did not find any reason to say no. And thus, we got married, not because we were particularly suited to each other, just because our families could not find any reason not to do it.

I came to my new house and settled in my new routine. Life became a series of chores which did not leave me much time to think. What would I have thought about anyway? I had left all my passions, hobbies and opinions in my parents’ house so I could fit in my husband’s life. I laughed in my husband’s joys, cried at his misfortunes. I am not complaining, that’s just the way it was.

I had almost lost count of the passing years when one warm summer day, my husband asked me to get ready for the evening. We had to attend a party hosted by his business partner for celebrating his son’s selection in some university in the USA. There was gaiety, cheer and an appropriate amount of jealousy in the room as was suited for the occasion. I went around with my husband while he chatted with his acquaintances. I was waiting for the party to get over so that I could go home and finish my nightly chores of making curd and preparing for the next day’s breakfast.

Suddenly, I looked up and my heart skipped a bit. There he was – standing in a dapper safari suit, with his hair all set. I kept staring until he felt the force of my gaze and looked directly at me. We looked at each other for a whole minute until his lips twitched and before either of us knew, we both burst out laughing. I couldn’t stop even as my husband asked alarmingly if I was alright. I had tears running down my eyes, I laughed so hard, and after so long.
I still don’t know his name, but he is the only one sharing my little secret and thus, a little part of ME.

A typical run-o-the-mill engg-MBA combination, with reading as my passion and writing, a joy I have recently discovered.

Image Attribution: http://www.flickr.com/photos/vm2827/3689161223/sizes/z/in/pool-641997@N25/