She had been used to working for him- listening to his tantrums all day, and night.
Whenever the sun would rise, she had to be ready with a cup of tea, and biscuits for him, she had to tidy up his room, keep his suit and boots ready. It was amazing how he loved perfection..There wouldn't be a single stand of hair on the floor, there wouldn't be a single crease on the bedsheet. And it was equally amazing how she would listen to him and serve him like a slave does for her master- She was married, but it seemed the marriage was a bond. The shakha-pala she had on her hands seemed to be quite heavy and small for her already tiny wrist. The zest and zeal for the best and the perfect would suffocate the poor wife who wasn't even permitted to move out and mingle with the outside world.
She bore no child with him. She received no love from him, no understanding, except the particularities. He would stay out all night, and she would wait, keeping mum.
Little changed as time passed by. The change was quite slow. But for the good- after the 30 years of bondage she was in, she felt life touch her sould once again- she felt the fragrance of romance being sprinkled upon her- those long gazes, those caressings- She was beginning to feel happy about who she had as a soul-mate. The meaning of marriage now seemed truely meaningful.
He was ever-busy nowadays. This file, that file, running this way, working till late, he would say, "Must I earn more, must I save more."
She was still unaware of the outside world, of what deep love was, of what receiving love and care, and that respect was- but she was content with whatever she had.
And then one day- he fell down.
"How did you fall?" She would ask. There wouldn't be any reply.
She would wait. When he would be fine again, she would ask him.
But he fell into a long sleep. A sleep from which there was no coming back.
He left her. Forever. She had her questions, many of them, but the innocent lady knew they would remain a secret forever.
She was free to move out- free from the red vermillion, the shakha-pala, the mangal sutra, which had tied her emotions for so long- but it seemed she got so used to those bondages that she had started considering them her life. She would still not move out, if only it brought him back, seeing the dedication towards himself.
Mother asked her to whisper in the dying man's ears, "I promise to marry you in my next life."
She rejected. "I won't. He had been torturous throughout his life. He never even had the time to bid me goodbye!"
She knew there was no coming back, but she waited, in silence, her smile hiding the thousand tears.
