The Whispering of Roses
Another long day at work. I drove the long way home quietly, and the only solace was the music playlist coming through the car speakers. But alas, it was not meant to be, as work calls came through that had to be answered. Ah, the challenges of Bluetooth — a double-edged sword, as is everything technology-related. I reached home, pulled up at the usual reserved spot, and took a few deep breaths. Alas, no relief, as I could still feel the day’s weight. Resigned, I got out of the car and made my way upstairs.
At the apartment, I reached for my keys, but the door swung open, and she stood there. I don’t know how she does it, but she always knows when I reach our doorstep. Most people call it romantic, but the good feeling I get from her act of love soon passes and gives way to panic on my part as her points kept going higher on our relationship sentiment scoreboard / ledger.
Even after a long day, she had her spirits about her. That one chunk of hair fell over her forehead, escaping the neatly combed hair-do. It always irritated her, but she gets even more irritated whenever I tell her I like it. But, today, I saw that she was mad about something and before she could start on her monologue, I quickly ran to our bedroom and changed for the show. She was setting the table for dinner, and then it started.
“You don’t make an effort at all to notice stuff. Why should I only make an effort in this relationship?” said Varsha
Ah, the effort soundtrack. She talked about all the past stuff. In my defense, I do make an effort, but like in any relationship, the misses and screw-ups get noticed more often and never get forgotten nor forgiven.
A few months ago, after a lot of persistence and discussion, I yielded to her request for us to see a relationship counselor. Little did I know she had already done her research, and two days later, we were in the counselor’s office.
“Akash, a relationship takes a lot of effort to build and maintain,” she said. “You have to put the effort and invest in this relationship, and you can only do that by keeping your wife or partner happy.”
“But I do take care of her and buy her stuff. For her birthday last year, I bought her a costly pair of boots, a popular brand. But, after wearing it for dinner the next day, I did not get to see her wear it even once since then.”
“I don’t even wear boots. This is what I am saying! He always buys stuff that he would like to see me in or see me wear and use but not what I would prefer or like. He doesn’t notice these things at all. When I have the courtesy to wear what he bought at least once, why should I not expect the courtesy from him to find out what I like?”
“Akash, do you think what she is asking is fair?”
“It is. But I am lost as to what I should buy or how I can make Varsha happy. If it’s only expensive items, then I cannot afford to buy too many of those.”
“Hang on. She never said expensive, did she?” said the counselor. “It is about being aware and noticing small things. It is not going to be easy, because all it needs is your attention, a lost art these days. In the course of your day to day conversations, observe what she sees and listen to what she talks about. You will get a clue. You make a note, and then start making an effort to get it for her. It may be an item or an experience. Don’t focus on expensive stuff. It is the gesture that matters — that you care about her likes.”
Varsha teared up, and I couldn’t stand that. I never could.
It took a few weeks since that appointment, but finally, when she talked about how she had always wanted fresh flowers in the house, I had my Eureka. Meanwhile, Varsha had relived through our appointment in the span of a few minutes and started tearing up.
Fuming with anger and other emotions and seeing how I was not reacting to her accusations and grievances, she realized the discussion was pointless and started to look for her phone.
“I think I saw it in the bedroom last,” I said. Avoiding eye contact, Varsha stormed off into the bedroom.
Seconds ticked by and no sound. She should have seen it by now, the neatly arranged bed, the folded blankets on one end, neatly pressed pillows on the other, and in the middle, fresh bouquet of roses with a note that said: “To my Luv.” Two more minutes went by, and then I heard her coming my way. I quickly went and stood near the dining table, trying to arrange plates, pretending not to notice. Varsha just stood there at the doorway, looking at me. Feeling her gaze, after a few seconds, I gave in, looked up and met her eyes.
She had that look, the one which I love. It was pent up anger, surprise, joy and love all felt together at the same time. She had a smile that she was cautious not to let on, since she was still upset from before. She quietly walked to the dining table.
“When did you buy it?” she asked.
“On the way home from work today.”
“This won’t fix everything, you know.”
“I know,” I said, avoiding her gaze.
She suddenly pulled me down, hugged tightly, and said, “Those roses are lovely. Thank you.”
“Anything for you, Luv.” And we stood hugging for a while.
The dinner was cold and had to be reheated. But neither of us minded that one bit.
© Arvindh 2020
