Shamala Iyer placed the neatly folded crease of the blue Kanjeevaram saree mundhani* on her shoulders and stretched her neck sideways to fasten it with a safety pin. The tremor in her fingers made it all the more difficult. With age, even mundane chores seemed like an uphill task. But Shamala was not the one to get bogged down. She chose to slow down rather than push the stop button. Come what may, she ensured she was prim and proper before stepping out of the door.

The dark red dot in the centre of her forehead made her fair, chubby face look rounder.

She walked up to her husband, Srinivas hoping he would compliment her, “Shama, nee rhomba azhaga irke*”, but unfortunately it would be, " Shama, have I taken my medicines today?"

Slapping her palm to her forehead, she yelled, "Yessssss!" Hiding her disappointment, she ran her fingers through her well-oiled, salt-and-pepper hair. A string of jasmine snugly fit into the neatly coiled bun at the nape of her neck.

" When is the due date of the electricity bill?" Srinivas asked folding the day's newspaper. Shamala stared at her 70-year-old husband. Wrinkles on his vibhuti* smeared forehead stood out as prominent lines, and with his glasses perched on the tip of his scrunched-up nose, he looked the quintessential nagging old man.

" I am in a hurry. Deepa has called me for manjal kumkumam*. I will answer all your questions later," she snapped, tottering out of the house.

" Carry an umbrella, it might rain, " his gravelly voice trailed as Shamala banged the door shut.

Shamala was fed up with answering Srinivas’s questions. All he ever wanted to ask was if he had taken his medicines or if all the bills were paid on time. Earlier his questions revolved around Arya, her schooling, college, job, and finally her marriage. Now that their only daughter is married and settled in Sydney, his questions have changed their velocity.

It's almost ten years since Srinivas retired from a nationalized bank and Shamala had taken voluntary retirement from her central government job. Forty-five years of married life had whizzed past them, in the blink of an eye, while trying to balance their work and personal lives.

After Arya had flown from their nest, life seemed dull and dreary.

Shamala had met Deepa during her morning walk. The girl was full of energy and kept chattering nineteen to the dozen, as they walked together for the initial warm-up round. Then Shamala would saunter around the track as Deepa jogged.

Friendship had brewed between the two despite the thirty-year age gap.  Shamala played the role of an attentive listener as Deepa gushed about her husband, Naresh, an industrialist.

" You know Aunty, last evening Naresh presented me with a beautiful Mysore silk saree. Totally out of the blue!  He pampers me with gifts now and then."

" Tonight he is taking me out for candlelight dinner. Just us, sans the kids."

" Naresh orders food from my favorite restaurant on Sundays. He wants me to have some respite from cooking at least once a week."


Deepa was blessed with two lovely daughters and seemed to be sailing through the best phase of her married life. This made Shamala reminisce if this phase ever existed in her life.

Deepa’s talk would always start with,” Naresh did this and Naresh did that,” This would set Shamala on a thinking spree, and unbeknownst to her she would start comparing Srinivas and Naresh. And each time Naresh seemed to be growing taller and taller.

Deepa’s love saga felt like a bone in Shamala's throat. Their relationship status squeezed a few drops of lemon into Shamala’s cauldron of thoughts, curdling it all together. Since she had not broached the topic with Srinivas he was in the dark as to why she was behaving rather strangely these days.

A smile always adorned Deepa’s face. It was difficult to say which shone brighter, her face or her dainty diamond studs.

After retirement, Shamala had hinted about buying diamond studs, “Shama, I don’t think it’s wise investing in diamonds. It has no resale value. Why don’t we invest that money instead”, he had thrown icy water over her dream.

There were times Shamala caught faint traces of sadness in Deepa's eyes but her zippy, buoyant chatter threw a flimsy veil over it. Deepa never gave Shamala a chance to touch that side of her story. Deep inside Shamala felt Deepa’s heavily made-up face was trying to hide something. But the mountain of faults she found in Srinivas made all other things insignificant.

As Shamala stretched her tired limbs, she noticed Deepa jogging with the new branded sneakers, her husband’s gift for Valentine's.

Shamala let out a long sigh. In her 45 years of marriage not once had Srinivas given her a gift. But would duly hand over his month's pay cheque in her hands. " Whatever is left after household expenses we will save, Shama. We need to secure Arya's future." Shamala had duly followed his instructions.

" Outside food does not go well with you. I will make vegetable biryani for you today. You sit and finish the book you are reading," he would say scurrying into the kitchen with a towel hung over his shoulders when she wished to order food from her favorite restaurant. That was the only dish he could rustle up in four decades.

All celebrations were done at home but Shamala looked forward to going out. She hoped that the music of the outside world would suppress the echoes of her empty nest.

They had led a happy and peaceful life. But love and romance?? That seemed to be the missing factor in their life. It had become more obvious after meeting Deepa. It was as if Deepa had held a mirror to her life. The reflection seemed very hazy.

She felt as if all her yesteryears had just rushed past her like scenes watched from a train's window seat. For Shamala, her married life felt like a never-ending saga of fulfilling family responsibilities. Nothing more, nothing less.

*

Deepa's house was two houses away from Shamala's. Holding up the pleats of her saree with one hand, she trudged on muttering. " Why do men act like only they age while we women have to run around like we are still 18? Pay the electricity bill, water bill, property tax. Cook, clean, and repeat. Is this what life all about?"

At 65 she kept good health except for her arthritis problem that had slowed her down.

Deepa rushed to the door to welcome her friend. She was dressed in a bright orange silk saree; it suited her fair complexion. A long gold chain with a delicate peacock pendant adorned her dainty neck. Sensing Shamala's glance fixed on her chain, “Aunty this was Naresh’s anniversary gift. This is a diamond pendant," she boasted, holding up the pendant. 

Shamala nodded staring open-mouthed at all the jewellery that Deepa had worn. She plonked down on the sofa, supporting her knees with her palm. Deepa's gold chain had exploded a chain of thoughts in her mind.

The room was filled with young ladies. Deepa scampered around the house, assisted by her two young daughters, aged five and seven years. The two kids ran behind their mom handing out coconuts, betel leaves and gifts to be given to the ladies.

Deepa sat down resting her back on the cushions as she was in no hurry. She felt being away from Srinivas for some time gave her the much-needed peace. Her gaze wandered around the spacious living room.

It was tastefully decorated with the best furniture and upholstery. Huge modern art paintings brightened up the white walls. Her gaze fell on Deepa’s face. Shamala could see a splash of emotions playing hide and seek on her face. Though a huge smile was plastered on her face, it had failed to reach her eyes. Her eyes never broadened when she spoke of her happy times with her hubby. “I must be imagining things. Which woman would be unhappy in the company of such a doting husband? But where is Naresh? He must be at his office, neck-deep in work,” pondered Shamala.

After applying manjal and kumkumam, Deepa placed a tray containing coconut, betel leaves, jasmine flowers, and a gift in Shamala's hands.

Deepa handed a plate of kadle sundal* and rave laadoo* to Shamala. Rava laadoos always reminded Shamala of Srinivas. He loved sweets but she had put him on a strict diet to keep his diabetes under check. Srinivas always followed her instructions to the T.

Shamala quickly pulled a polythene pouch from her bag and delicately placed the laadoos in it. She always carried one to bring back goodies to Srinivas. A smile escaped her lips thinking of the glint in his eyes on spotting the laadoo.


Once most of the ladies had left Deepa sat beside Shamala, dabbing her forehead with a tissue.

" Where is Naresh? What is the occasion, Deepa? " Shamala asked rubbing her palms against her knees.

" Naresh-he is off on an official tour," hearing her stutter, Shamala’s eyebrows shot up and her eyes widened as she looked straight into Deepa’s eyes. Avoiding her gaze, Deepa bid farewell to the ladies getting up to leave.

" Go and change your clothes. You can watch TV for some time," Deepa instructed, sending her daughters to their room.

With downcast eyes, Deepa sat beside Shamala. " What happened Deepa?" Shamala stroked her back lovingly. The soft, quavering love-laced voice and her gentle touch were enough for the dam to burst. All the subdued emotions finally found an outlet. Deepa cried covering her face with her hands. Shamala waited for Deepa to calm down. Pouring out a glass of water for Deepa, she waited for her to speak.

" Naresh is having an affair, I know for sure. But I am scared to confront him. He sometimes gets physical when he is angry. He keeps track of my whereabouts but keeps his life a secret. Life has been a living hell since I married him," she sobbed.

" Aiyoo! Rama! You never told me of this." Shamala slapped her forehead. She was too zapped for words. She had always placed this lovey-dovey couple on the highest pedestal. She had pined for that kind of love, where everything was expressed and demonstrated. Something, she had only seen and heard of in movies.

“I feel ashamed to share this with anyone. With the hope that things would change, I project Naresh as a great husband. There are even times when I exaggerate. Today I feel I have reached the saturation point. Your kind words, gentle touch, and your affection made me confide in you.” Her shoulders drooped as she lay bare her heart.

Shamala sat speechless drawing circles over Deepa’s back.  

Looking at Deepa in such a distraught state perplexed her.

It was as if something had hit Shamala hard, shaking her off her reverie. The image she had built in her mind of love shattered into tiny shards that pricked her inner consciousness.

She had placed Naresh on one side of the balance and Srinivas on the other. The balance had tilted totally towards Naresh, leaving Srinivas dangling.


Sometimes, Shamala used to chide herself for her thoughts. Wasn't it a little too late in life to long for romance? But regular chats with Deepa had turned her thoughts into worms which constantly nibbled her mind. Repenting for the beautiful moments having slipped past her fingers seemed to be her favorite pastime these days.

Her thoughts rushed back to Srinivas. He has not raised his voice, even once in their forty-five years of married life. He is always as cool as a cucumber. His tone is always laced with warmth and respect. He just let her be. Neither did he pass judgements nor did he burden her with expectations. Deepa’s confession put the spotlight on Srinivas. It was as if the mist, shrouded around him had drifted away and this time the balance slowly but steadily tilted towards Srinivas.

Loud sniffing by Deepa brought her back to the present.

" Naresh makes up for all his mistakes by showering me with lavish gifts. He has arranged a pooja today so that I can beget a son. He wants an heir for his business. I bear all this thinking of my two daughters. I can’t return to my parental home as I chose to marry Naresh much against their wishes," she whimpered.

“It’s high time you take charge of your life, Deepa. We will find a way out of this. For how long can you go on like this?” advised Shamala throwing her arms around Deepa and bringing her face close to Deepa’s.

Shamala's thoughts again took her back in time. She remembered when she was lying on the hospital bed after giving birth to Arya, Srinivas had cried more than her seeing her writhe in pain. " If I had known you would have to suffer so much, I would never have planned for a baby. We will not have any more babies Shama. Certainly not at the cost of your discomfort," he had sobbed holding her hand. And he had stood by his words. No amount of pressure from his parents had made him reconsider his decision. He had stood behind her like a shadow and shouldered the responsibility of raising Arya.

“How easily I forgot what Srinivas had so selflessly done for me and the family. How could I take him for granted? And he bore all my snide remarks and jibes without uttering a single word! How wrong I am! To profess love is one thing but to make one feel loved is a different ball game. How could I compare a gem of a person like Srinivas to that lowly man Naresh?" Shamala lamented.

Meeting Deepa and learning of her ordeals was a blessing in disguise. You never realize what you take for granted unless you see the tough battles others face. What is projected outside is most of the time far from reality.

“Love is Srinivas carrying a bag full of veggies despite his frozen shoulder. Love is Srinivas wrapping a warm shawl around me on a cold, windy day. Love is Srinivas cooking vegetable biryani for me. Love is Srinivas taking care of his health to ensure he doesn't become a burden. Love is Srinivas charting out a well-planned budget for the family. Love is Srinivas personified”, she thought placing her chin in the well of her palm.

Two women sat close to each other but their thoughts drifted them into two different worlds. 

One sat lamenting about her present, and the other, determined to stop lamenting about her past.

Just then there was a knock at the door. Shamala was shocked to see Srinivas standing there with an umbrella.

" It has started drizzling Shama, I didn't want you to get wet and suffer a sinus headache again. Seekro va*, before it starts pouring," he uttered, wiping his glasses with the edge of his shirt.

Stroking Deepa's back Shamala advised, " We will meet at our usual time tomorrow and I will tell you what to do. You don't deserve to suffer like this. Be strong and remember I will always be there for you."

Bidding her goodbye, she walked towards her husband. “Vaango, pola.” She awkwardly held on to his arm. Taken in by surprise, Srinivas gave her a shy smile. The old couple, hobbling slowly in the rain was a sight to beckon.

Deepa watched them till they faded away into the distance.  "This is what true love is all about, being there for each other. Nothing more, nothing less!" she sighed.

As they walked on, another realization struck Shamala. After Srinivas's retirement, they had spent every minute of their time together. Maybe it would do them some good to stay away from each other for a few hours. That would give them not only their much-needed space but some work to her idle mind

" You wanted to join the laughter club? From tomorrow you go for a long walk with your friends and then spend some time at the laughter club. I will join the ladies in our society for yoga and a bhajan session every evening. This way we get to not only keep our body and mind active but also give us time to meet like-minded people, sari ya*?" she suggested trying to avoid placing her foot on the puddles. Srinivas nodded his head in agreement. He could go to any extent to keep her happy.

" And you know what there is a surprise for you in my bag," she cooed, looking at him from the corner of her eyes. “Rava laadoo!” Srinivas' eyes lit up like sparklers during Diwali. Seeing the corners of his lips broaden, she smiled.

Srinivas placed his arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer to ensure the raindrops didn't wet her shoulders.

“Life is indeed a never-ending saga of work and responsibilities but also a never-ending saga of warmth, care, and love.” Shamala beamed.

***

Glossary:

1.     Mundhani: sari border

2.     Nee romba azhaga irke: You look beautiful.

3.     Vibhuti- sacred ash

4.     Manjal Kumkumam: turmeric and vermilion, generally given to ladies after religious ceremony.

5.     Kadle sundal: seasoned black gram

6.     Rava Laadoo: Dessert made of semolina, coconut, sugar, and dry fruits, pressed into a ball.

7.     Seekro Va: Come fast

8.     Vaango Pola: Come, let’s go.

9.     Sari ya: Do you think it’s right?

These words are used in Tamil language.