Rudra

Sharp, harsh rays ruthlessly pierced Rudra's skin. Sweat poured out like a gurgling stream. The branches remained still despite the arid breeze. The wilted flowers added to the dullness of the surroundings. Devi twirled around, exposing the tattered ends of her skirt. Her oiled pigtails swung freely, oblivious to the unpleasant surroundings.

"I'm going to the store, Appa," she announced.

"Be careful," said Rudra, his eyes shimmering with pride. 

He was impressed by his preteen, who had taken control of the situation and handled it efficiently. She quickly kissed her mother on the cheek and left the house.

"Don't forget to ask for your payment," her mother said, her voice muffled by Devi's chirpy footsteps.

Rudra got up and walked to the front yard. He picked up a rusty bucket and sprinkled water over the sizzling cement tiles. The droplets mysteriously vanished, questioning their existence. His wife Chandrika smeared a streak of black color on her lower eyelids. The brownish stains spread across the mirror smudged her reflection. But the glitter in her wide brown eyes was strikingly obvious. A warm smile, similar to an abstract painting unfurled on his lips.

Ten months had passed, but it felt like Rudra had aged rapidly. Redundancy and melancholy did that to him. He noticed Chandrika looking at him with anticipation, the same look that had lingered in her eyes for two months. He turned and faced the bustling street, hoping the commotion outside would subdue the pandemonium racking his mind. He wished to take the load off her shoulders, but the adversity prodded her to explore the untrodden path of life. Under pressure, she dazzled like a diamond and despite guilt squeezing the breath out of his system, he dwelled in a state of unbridled amazement. 

 

Chandrika

The red dot between her eyebrows shone like the morning sun. It was a new day, a harbinger of new opportunities. But for her, it was just another challenging day. She would bear the brunt of agonizing heat, indifference, and sometimes even insults.

 In her mind's eyes, she pictured Devi going from house to house, delivering milk and groceries. Some people treated her kindly, giving her sweet treats while others were indifferent or even insulted her. She would take the indifference in her stride, not letting the negativity affect her. Circumstances had coerced her to mature prematurely into a blooming flower. A scorn swiftly spread across Chandrika's lips. She had accepted her fate and danced to the cruel tunes of destiny, but reality pierced her deeply like a heel spur.

She glanced at her husband of fourteen years, from the corner of her eyes. His limp seemed to have improved. His skin's dark and bold scars were prominent but less rigid than before. Rudra cleaned every inch of the front yard with precision. His demeanor exuded positive vibes. He entered the house and grabbed her bag. It felt like he was as right as the rain. But, the flickering hope in her heart began to dwindle like a candle flame dancing amid the storm. 

"Drive safe," he said, holding the bag in front of her like a hypnotist swinging a pendulum. 

The castle she had built in the air crashed to the ground. The rubble stabbed her soul. Unseen tears filled her distressed heart. 

"You look great today," she said, trying to show him how she felt.

"I'm feeling good. It's a bright day. The sunshine helps soothe my wounds," he spoke energetically.

"Why don't you start....." The bag fell to the floor and interrupted her. 

She remained silent, picked up the bag, and walked to the door. 

"Try to take a short walk. Remember to take the medicines on time," she repeated mechanically and left. 

The sun blazed unapologetically. She shielded her eyes with her palm. Looking at Rudra one more time, she began to walk toward the office. Soon, she would be driving people around the city. The humdrum of life would comfort her troubled heart.  

 

Rudra

His fingers formed a fist. Unspoken emotions spread their arms like a hungry octopus and suffocated him in their grasp. The events of that scary morning played in his mind.

 Rain lashed the city. Uprooted trees blocked the road. Electric wires crackled as they floated in the puddles. Rudra stepped out of his house, a cloth covering his head. Tiny drops dribbled down his brows. He navigated the bumps and puddles on his way to the milk depot. 

"You can wait here for some time. Driving in this weather is risky," said the vendor, looking up at the dark sky.

"I have a booking at seven, Ramana Anna. I can't be late," smiled Rudra, as he stacked the milk packets carefully. 

"You make hay even when the sun doesn't shine." The engine rattled and, the vendor's voice faded away.

Lightning flashed brightly and the jarring noise shocked Rudra's eardrums. Something landed in his eyes, blinding him for a split second. A speeding truck approached him. Seconds later, he lay on the ground, groaning in pain, blood oozing out of his body. The milk packets strewn all over the ground formed a white river in the murky waters. He was in a semi-conscious state, with his eyes tightly shut when he felt someone carry him. It felt like his life had come to a stand still.

A streak of light escaped the blinds and fell on his eyes. His upper and lower eyelids moved apart like an oyster revealing a pearl. Chandrika sat by his side, her cheeks painted with trails of sorrow. Her eyes seemed lost within the bony cage. Residual beads drifted off the leaves and landed on the window sill with a splash. 

He held her hand and winced in pain. 

"Rudra," she cried and hugged him. 

"You scared me," she said, wiping the tears off her cheeks. 

What he saw next, devastated him. His legs and right arm were bandaged. Tubes pierced his skin. His leg was tied up and supported by a pulley. 

"A speck has uprooted our lives. Will I ever be able to walk again?" he shrieked. 

He shut his eyes. An outpour of tears followed the emotional deluge threatening to bury him alive. 

"Not only will you be able to walk. You can run too," her words instilled faith within him. 

She wrapped her arms around him and whispered, "The only setback is you will not be able to drive for a few months. The doctor has advised rest."

He clasped the white bedsheet. The fabric crumpled in his clutches. His nails dug into the cotton spread, his frustration digging tiny holes in it. 

"Calm down, Rudra. Look at the bright side. You are alive. You are there for us. For me and Devi," she sniffled. 

She entwined her hand in his and sat still lest he did something irrational. The thought of Devi calmed his mind. It acted like a summer shower quenching the thirst of a wanderer. 

A week later, he was home. Chandrika juggled between nursing him to health and making ends meet. One of the residents living in a high-rise building at the end of the street outsourced some of her boutique assignments to Chandrika. However, the money didn't meet the demands of the overflowing hospital bills. 

"Let me drive your cab," she said, anxiety smearing the creases on her forehead. 

"No, it is not safe out there." Words remained stuck in his throat.

A thick lump obstructed his airway. His chest rose and fell as he struggled to breathe. He felt like a prisoner. The shackles of despair throttled him. 

"We don't have a choice," she said, tears rolling in her eyes. 

The dark and cruel reality hit him like a bolt of lightning. They didn't have a choice. Devi's school fees, medical bills, everyday expenditures, and other asks of life stared at him. They constantly lurked around in the dark and waited to bite him. He felt weak and incapacitated. 

"Be safe," he said, faced the opposite side, and closed his eyes. 

Sleep eluded him. Peace maintained a safe distance from him. But he masked his emotions with a blanket of stoicism. She was gone for long hours. Worry gnawed at him like flesh-eating bacteria. He was used to her constant presence. Anger, ego, hurt and pain ran through his gut. But he encased himself in a shell of silence. On many nights, he watched her cry to sleep. 

"Rudra, get well soon and take the reins in your hands. I can't keep going," he heard her mumble in sleep.

Her face was calm. But beneath those closed eyes burned flames of tribulations. Realization dawned like the morning sun. It wasn't easy for her. But she didn't give up. Then how could he?

"Everything is going to be okay," he whispered and kissed her forehead. 

She tossed and turned for a while before nestling in his embrace. 

From the next morning, he worked towards getting better. He partook in the everyday chores and trained his muscles. Pain stabbed him. He winced and groaned. He shrieked and wept. But he got better with each passing day. 

 

Chandrika

Her hands became clammy. The steering wheel slipped from her grip. The music from the radio failed to muffle her inner turmoil. The rearview mirror reflected the anxiety gripping the elderly man seated in the backseat. She feigned composure and plastered a smile on her lips. The car traversed the busy streets while her mind sauntered in the narrow alleys of the past. 

"Chandrika amma, Rudra met with an accident," Ramana Anna's voice cut through the morning silence. 

Her ears went numb. Everything around her came to a standstill. How did it happen? He was fit as a fiddle a few minutes back. She felt hazy. 

"Chandrika amma, are you okay?" Ramana Anna held her hand and prevented her from falling.

"Rudra needs help. We must go." His words pierced her desensitized mind.

She stood up and tried to balance on her feet.

"Take care of Devi. I'll be back soon," she requested her neighbor and rushed to the scene. 

Rudra lay unconscious. A pool of blood surrounded him. The next series of events happened in a daze.

 Her world underwent a massive transformation. The feather of a 'breadwinner' was forced onto her hat. The tailoring job provided the family with two square meals. But the list of necessities exceeded the income. Her long-lost driving skills came to her rescue. The lessons learned whimsically became her savior. 

A few days after marriage, she had asked Rudra, "Will you teach me to drive a car?"

"Your wish is my command," he said and kissed her on her lips. 

She learned the nuances of driving a four-wheeler and got a license. But life spun a yarn of motherhood and responsibilities around her. She and her driving skills took a back seat.

Three months went by after the accident.

"Let me take up the job of a cab driver," she suggested.

 One look at Rudra and she understood that he didn't want her to do it. But what other options did she have? His disappointment transformed into silence and slowly manifested as indifference. However, that didn't stop her. She knew that he loved her and would always have her back. The job was tough and the path was lined with thorns. Men leered at her, and danger sneaked behind the bushes and waited to pounce on her. Her resolve shivered like a wet puppy caught in a storm. Every night, she resigned to the arms of fatigue and displeasure. The sight of the pristine rays in the morning gave her hope that Rudra would soon become right as the rain, but it fizzled out like bubbles. She grappled with the thoughts of succumbing to fate and accepting the jarring jibes of the universe. She wished to snuggle in her humble nest, but Devi's smile and Rudra's plastered legs kept her going. She put on a brave front, but every cell within her felt weak. It trembled with fear. 

A beep interrupted her thoughts and brought her back to reality. She assisted the elderly man to get out of the car and offered to carry his bags to the doorstep. He blessed her, and she felt a surge of warmth in her heart. As she sat in the driver's seat, she reflected on the past few days. Rudra looked better, he even helped her with the chores and played with Devi. But whenever she asked him about resuming work, he evaded it and chose to remain silent.

"I'm not prepared for it," he said.

She had many questions about his behavior. Did the accident take away his confidence? Was he turning into a caterpillar?  She wanted to talk to him and sort things out, but she didn't know if he was ready to talk. Just then, her phone chimed, indicating that another passenger was waiting for her ride. She started the engine and drove off to pick up the next passenger.

She spent hours in the nerve-wracking traffic. The incessant honking and pollution resulted in a throbbing headache. In an attempt to save fuel, she switched off the AC and rolled down the windows. The aroma from the roadside tea stall refreshed her senses. She stopped the car to deliberate on her options. She knew that Rudra and Devi would be waiting for her. But a sip of the hot tea would inject her with the energy needed to drive home. 

So, she walked up to the stall and said, "Anna, tea" and settled on a creaking bench.

She added "biscuit" to her order.

The crispy treat melted in her mouth and the brown liquid cascaded down her throat. Music from the radio played in the background. She stretched her legs, threw her head back, and let her hair down. A soft breeze played with her tendrils and in those tranquil moments, she felt peace wash over her. The silvery moonlight became her companion and guided her to the office. She parked the car at the designated spot outside the office, signed the register, and walked home. In the darkness, dogs howled and men lay inebriated, shouting obscenities. Her muscles tightened and her throat went dry. She dragged her aching feet as fast as she could. A cloud of dust masked the moonlight, but the mosaic of stars twinkled and illuminated her path. It felt like the cosmos spotlighted her. She had been wading through murky waters for ten months, the dirt threatening to annihilate her confidence. But the deeper she sank, the stronger she emerged. Her fingers twisted the tendrils that fell on her eyes and a unique music played in her mind. A subtle smile crossed her lips. Devi's laughter reached the corners of her heart even before she entered the house. Satisfaction held her in a tight embrace, reminding her of her mother's comforting presence. 

 

Rudra

Devi jumped and twirled the plastic bat in the air. 

"It's a six, appa. I won," she laughed.

Her laughter was contagious and filled the room with stardust. He threw the ball in the air and caught it. Chandrika entered the house. She looked exhausted but a sparkle in her eyes brought a twinkle to her lips, making her look like a fairy under the moonlight. He noticed her transformation and reflected on the last time he admired her. She was a gritty and tenacious woman. She conquered all odds and accomplished anything she set her mind to. He thought highly of her qualities. But as the years went by, she was trapped in a snare of responsibilities. The rough cords dug into her skin and sucked the confidence out of her system. She had become docile and preferred to stay indoors. 

The wheel of time turned constantly. On that fateful morning, she was hurled out of the maze life had weaved around her. He knew that she wasn't happy. He watched her struggle to survive every day. He watched her cry. The walls of the bathroom echoed her silent shrieks. Although she never told him how she felt, her eyes reflected the pain the accident inflicted on her. He comforted her in the quiet of the night as she drifted to sleep while focusing on his recovery during the day. After months of healing, he was ready to face the world but noticed a change in her demeanor. She appeared confident and smiled more often. Sometimes life felt like a concoction of trials, sometimes life felt like a breeze. Her transformation nudged him to take a step back. He watched her metamorphose into a vibrant butterfly, much to her chagrin. 

He was distracted by her piercing stare. 

"How was your day?" he asked, trying to start a conversation.

Instead of answering, she looked at him for a few seconds and walked away, her silence expressing apathy. She was becoming more withdrawn lately, and he had been avoiding the conversation. But he knew that he had to talk to her about it tonight.

Chandrika

"I played cricket with Appa today," said Devi and hugged her. 

She nodded and served rice on Devi's plate. Rudra joined them for dinner. 

"We had fun, amma," continued Devi. 

The family ate in silence with Rudra fidgeting with the food for a long time before forcing it down his throat. Chandrika felt sparks of frustration growing within her. Its roots grew deeper and spread its branches all over. The branches bore fruits of helplessness and anger. The words that were stuck in her throat threatened to cascade into the open. She felt helpless and angry, her emotions bullying her, and her inner self corroded by bridled and unspoken feelings. She promised herself that she would unlock the cage tonight. 

After an hour of uncomfortable stillness, Chandrika was washing utensils in the kitchen when she felt him enter. She dropped a plate, making a clanking noise that shattered the silence. 

"I'll do it. You go and relax," he said and took the scrub.

"You need to get back to work. For how long are you planning to remain at home?" she yelled. 

Devi had already fallen asleep. 

"Don't you think it is time you resume work?" she continued, her voice a tad low.

Frothy bubbles trickled down her palm and so did her tears. 

"I will go to work," he said. 

He felt apprehensive. Her flustered form scared him. 

"When?" She arched her eyebrows. 

Before he could think of a suitable answer, she thundered, "I understand that you are devastated by the accident. But how long will you avoid work? You must face your fears someday. Why not do it now? Do you even know how difficult it is for me to sail through each day? You look healthy. I'm glad you are doing well. But you need to stand up for your family. What kind of example are you setting for Devi?"

He felt her words pierce him like darts. His mind turned foggy. He wished he could retreat to the room and find solace under the blanket. But one look at her eyes and he understood the pain that streamed beneath the anger. 

"I didn't want you to drive. But we needed money. I was incapacitated and I didn't know how long the road to recovery was. Though reluctantly, I agreed to your idea. But every day when you stepped out of the house, fear stirred within me. I felt like someone ripped a part of me apart. I prayed for your safety. I tried my best to get fit soon. Time flew by. I noticed that you grew confident with each passing day. You returned home tired. But I noticed something different in your eyes. A spark. The same spark I had noticed when you got behind the wheel for the first time. I didn't want that shine to disappear. I was happy to see you change. Even if that came at the cost of you hating me." He stopped talking and turned to wipe his tears. 

 

Rudra

She walked to him and held his hands. He felt a shiver of oneness run down his spine. They sat on the floor and she rested her head on his shoulders. 

"I like to drive. I still remember the excitement I felt the first time when I laid my hands on the steering wheel. But doing it every day is painful and sometimes scary too. I might have grown confident, but I feel scared even today. I will continue to work. I will speak to Radha Akka about the job at the Tailoring and Embroidery Centre. But I can't be out on the streets anymore." She felt lighter.

He stroked her cheeks and its wetness seeped into his skin. 

"I will get back to work tomorrow. But it would be best if you made a promise," he paused.

She looked at him, her eyelids drooping under the weight of exhaustion. 

"You will drive once in a while. Not for money, but for your happiness," he spoke.

She nodded and kissed him on his lips. Her cheeks turned pink and she buried her face in his chest. He stroked her hair and watched her fall asleep. 

The moon shone brighter than ever. He looked out of the window and noticed a sliver of sliver fall on her face. Everything around him seemed perfect. The fibers of his family were intact and vivid. Everything felt right as rain. He closed his eyes and felt peace wash over him. Sleep embraced him for the first time in months. With a smile adorning his lips, he lay by her side, her hand wrapped around him. Everything was finally right as rain in his little world. 

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