Achyut

Veena Dhruva posted under Flash Fiction QuinTale-23 on 2020-10-27



“Achyut, I don’t want to live with you anymore. I am tired of trying to be perfect for you. And please don’t try to find me or send sleuths to trace me. Once I settle down, I will give you a call myself.” Read my letter to Achyut as I set about packing up my stuff and erasing any traces that I might be leaving behind in my frenzied hurry to leave from there. I just wanted to be free from his stifling presence and his hold over me. As I threw my clothes haphazardly into the duffel  bag and searched Achyut’s bureau for my passport and necessary documents, I wondered to myself as to whatever did I see in him to fall for him so hard that my common sense decided to desert me. My mind wandered  a few years  back. 5 Years Ago: A pleasant evening, peppered with interesting conversation, old wine, and the prospects of some exciting ventures brightened my otherwise gloomy outlook. I had not wanted to attend, bore some old grouch with insipid comments but the Boss would have none of it. Having ordered me to put in an appearance, I had no choice but to comply. The hidden threat of the consequences of non-compliance was ever present. I dressed modestly, a figure hugging dark red dress with minimal makeup and just a strand of pearls to complete the look. I moved around, making inane conversation and generally just killing time till I could gracefully make my exit. Suddenly, the very air seemed electrified. I saw a group of guests gathered round a rather middle aged looking man, listening raptly to whatever it was that he was saying. I slowly made my way to join that group without wanting to draw attention to myself. And there was  Achyut, holding forth his views on world economic policies. Inspite of myself, I was drawn into the discussion and very soon had started debating with Achyut himself on the  various measures incorporated by the present government. One thing led to another and we found ourselves in a cozy corner with glasses of wine and cheese crackers.  Not much of a looker, an average height guy of a wheatish complexion, his main attraction was his vast knowledge on a variety of subjects. It didn’t take long for our chemistry to sizzle along with our economics and on the pretext of an out-station assignment, I moved in with him.   And it was great being with him. Passionate and exciting, slowly his sense of economics started overpowering his passion for our chemistry and biology. After more than 3 years of tolerating his overbearing, penny-pinching attitude, I started feeling stuck , not being used to living frugally. And hence, my decision to move out. Now, I stood at the crossroads of emotions. Deciding whether to go back to my debonair, suave husband, Manish, who would fulfill my every demand or to lead an independent life, free of any encumbrance.  

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