DUSK.
A half filled coffee mug and few scattered books from her favorite Ruskin Bond collection on the small wooden table amidst her self made balcony- garden. Every morning she would wake up, listening to her old retro music collection of ABBA and continue reading her books among her babies — the plants. Mamta was always the one with maternal instincts. She never complained if the maid took leave, or if some relative of hers suddenly showed up at her place. She loved taking care of herself and people around her. She was one of the independent kinds, the one who lived just two blocks away from her parents so that she could carve out her own journey coming out of their umbrella, but not going too far away from it. The kids at school loved her. Oh yes, she was one of the lucky ones who loved her work. With her maternal instincts coupled with her love for literature, she could not have wished for a better job than teaching English to the under- privileged at an NGO.
Mamta grew up in a middle class family. A simple girl with an even simpler lifestyle. The simplicity was never imposed on her. It was her choice. She too had her dreams. A school she would start for both the under-privileged and the elderly- the ones who always wanted to learn but never really got an opportunity to. She meant the world to her parents and her younger sister Khyati. As young and confident as she was, she never let her dusky skin color make her doubt herself. “ If the guy wants to marry me because of my skin color, I am sorry Amma, I can’t marry him”, is what she would always tell her mother whenever the topic would come up. “DI, do you think we will never find our Prince Charming just because of our skin color?” Khyati on the other hand was a typical product of the Indian society. Somehow, all her relatives including her mother had very rightfully instilled the fear of her never being able to find the love of their lives because of their skin color. And she wasn’t without any proof. Both Mamta and Khyati had met with rejections umpteen number of times from both their friends and family members during various social occasions.
That is why Arjun was extremely special for Mamta. She had met him at one of the charity events of the NGO. ‘He had a charm about him, maybe it was his personality, or was it his voice, one that demands the listener’s attention’ Mamta still wondered, after five years of their beautiful journey together. Arjun made her feel special, just by accepting her the exact way she was. Be it her dusky skin color or the very simple lifestyle she chose to lead, teaching at an NGO. He on the other hand was a software engineer at Cognizant. She loved reading while he loved cooking. They both would spend their weekends with Arjun cooking her favorite dishes while she would read excerpts from his favorite novel. They had nothing to complain about — it all seemed to be like a peaceful bliss
“ Marry him before he gets off your hand Mamta, we would never be able to find you a better husband than him”, Amma would say.
“Yes di, Arjun is the best for you. And he loves you a lot too!” Khyati finally did see some hope for herself too since the time Arjun came into Mamta’s life.
Mamta too loved Arjun. But they say you can’t have it all. Arjun was not exactly what one would call the responsible kind. He loved Mamta too. But he was not ready to take the big step. And Arjun would somehow always refer to Mamta as his friend to his parents.
“ Why can’t you tell them that we have been together for 5 years now? “
“I just need some more time to figure my career out and then I will tell them everything. I don’t want us to get married before we have our future secured. Let me establish myself enough to have my opinions listened and complied to,” would be Arjun’s standard reply.
Mamta was not the person who would burden him with her insecurities. She had none. She was ready to give Arjun all the time in this world. Marriage was anyway just another added social label to her relationship with him. They had everything they needed already without putting that added label.
But today was different. It had been four weeks since she had heard from Arjun. She knew he wasn’t ready for this, but she had made her decision. Since the day she got to know, they only had one short-conversation.
“ You know am still not settled. You can’t expect me to take this responsibility right now. It is huge. Anyway my parents would never accept you, on top of it if you decide to break this news to them, they would never even consider you.”
Teary eyed, Mamta replied, “ And why will they never accept me?”
She already knew the answer but she wanted him to say it. She knew the society. And life doesn’t get as rosy as it usually seems to be in the romantic comedies. She had tried denying it throughout their entire relationship, but the truth had to come out one day. And as much as she knew what she meant to Arjun, she was also aware of the fact that his family was his ultimate priority. And despite them being extremely educated people, they were orthodox in their approach. Just like any other Indian family.
“You know they would not let me marry a dusky girl. “
She silently walked out of his room. And never came back. She waited for him to call or at least leave a simple “Hey, hope you are keeping well”, text. She actually hadn’t been keeping well for the past two weeks now. She had a doctor, but she longed for his company during her trips to the clinic. She had nowhere to go. No one to go to. She knew her parents would never support her.
The fan creaked as it ran on full speed, the books all lay scattered on the table with a half filled coffee mug. With a final note of goodbye, not the suicidal sort but one that bid everyone adieu and marked the beginning of a new journey, lay a stick with two red lines on them.
