Wipe the slate clean- the final part.

After gorging on our customary Sunday breakfast- scrambled eggs and sausages, he went to take a nap, and I decided to do my post-church, Sunday cleaning. There was something mundane but oddly comforting about having the same breakfast every Sunday. Somehow, we never tired of it; instead we had accepted it as a weekly ritual. I opened the drawer of my storage cabinet, and emptied it to arrange everything in an orderly manner. Half of them were items I had resolved I’ll put to good use after watching DIY videos, and the other half had some sentimental value attached to it, so I refused to throw them away. My eyes fell on a white-coloured envelope which had turned off-white over time. The golden letters on the envelope said, ‘Kathelyn Weds Dhruv’. I brushed my finger against the letters as if I was trying to caress the memory of that day.

Ours had been a very quirky wedding. Dhruv and I had insisted on it being a small affair, so only family and close friends were invited. In the wedding reception, I wore my white wedding gown, and he was dressed in a gold and red sherwani. We looked like we belonged to two different weddings, but had decided to marry each other at the last moment. Our entire wedding had been pertaining to catholic customs and rituals, and when he told me he wanted to dress up in a sherwani, I couldn’t say no. After all, it would be wrong to completely rob him of his Punjabi roots. So I had politely complied. It was only later during our first dance that he told me, that he had done it only because he thought it would become a funny wedding-memory. By then I was too happily-married, so I simply laughed it off and continued dancing. We had a picture framed in our bedroom of him wearing my wedding veil, and me wearing his pagdi. He was right, it did become a funny wedding-memory! I heard the door creak behind me which meant he had woken up.

“No sleep?”

“Nah...what you doing?”

“Just wondering how things got so messy.”

“Hey, that’s our wedding card!” he gleamed.

He opened it like a child who is too excited to open his birthday gift. When he read the card, his eyes seemed like they were going on a nostalgic trip. He had a placid smile on his face, which quickly disappeared when he realised he had forgotten to tell me something.

“Hey, we’ll have to cancel the dinner plan tonight. I have got to make a presentation for tomorrow.”

“But they have that live jazz performance tonight! We had planned ages ago, Pork ribs and Jazz, remember?”

“I know, I’m sorry. But this is really important.”

I knew no amount of pleading was going to convince him. Besides, I didn’t even want to plead. So I just left the topic. He didn’t notice the given-up look in my eyes when I left the room.  I thrust the wedding card inside the envelope and shoved it inside the drawer again. I took the house keys and decided to go for a walk. Whenever things got too cloudy, I either went for a walk, or took a shower. It always helped me place things in perspective.

With every step, I analysed my marriage. How it had turned from a fun adventure, to a routine responsibility, how it had withered away like a rose that had not been watered enough. I had promised we would never become like one of those old and boring couples. While I was busy keeping that promise, I had failed to realise that you could be unhappy even if you were not old and boring. We were only in our early-thirties, and we even spent a fair share of weekends doing things we liked doing. Only two weeks ago, we had gone to a concert, and seen our favourite band live. However, the joy of doing those things together had left us. I had always been a person who declared that no matter how hard it is, you should always choose the path that leads you to happiness. And today, I wasn’t sure if happiness was on the same path that he was. My thought process was broken by the shrill ringing of my phone. It was him. I lied that I had gone out to buy milk. I didn’t want to go back home and argue about all of this. I didn’t want to hear his justifications anymore. I had already made my decision.

I bought an unnecessary carton of milk and went back home. He was sitting in the bedroom with the laptop, and did what he did best. He failed to acknowledge that something needed fixing here, and I didn’t want to pinpoint it to him this time. I would talk to him when he was done with the presentation, and I would tell him about my decision. When he walked inside the room, I was habitually changing channels on the TV.

 “I’m sorry, I know you’re pissed. But the deadline is tomorrow” he apologised.

“Why do you always have reasons?”

“It is really not my fault. I declined the promotion yesterday, so I had to apply for another post. And they only gave me a day to work on my presentation. I really have to get this post.” He rambled.

He always rambled when he wanted to make a point.

“Why did you decline the promotion? And why didn’t you discuss it with me?” I asked.

“They wanted me to move to another city, and I knew you can’t leave your job here. So this was the only way for us to stay together. I didn’t want to stay away from you.”

He saw the taken-aback look in my eyes and misinterpreted it.

“I know I should have talked to you about it before making the decision. But I thought you would want the same. I know the promotion means a lot of money, but I wouldn’t be happy staying away from you. So I made my decision without another thought. If you want, I can talk to them tomorrow” he rambled again.

I walked towards him and gave him a bear hug. That almost always shut him up. He put his arms around me in resigned relief, and I was glad to know that all was not lost yet. However, a few moments like these were not enough to make me stray away from my decision. I convinced myself that I wouldn’t change my mind. Happiness still always came first.

I made two cups of tea and told him we needed to talk. I thought a hot beverage would pacify him as I talked to him about it. I told him how we were running away from facing the truth of our relationship, how things were not the same anymore. How each day ended with me wishing for something more, something that we had, but had lost in the past couple years. He understood what I was talking about, he had felt the same. I told him of my decision, and I hoped he would agree with me.

“Dhruv, we have to talk to a marriage counsellor.” I said.

“That is the decision you were talking about?” he asked a little puzzled (and mildly relieved.)

“Yes. We need help. I know we love each other, but somehow that’s not enough. There’s something we are doing wrong, and I’m tired of finding it out for myself. I can’t go on like this; I thought it is just a phase but I was wrong. We need to seek help, I want us to be us again!”

I guess he was not the only one who rambled.

He put his hands on my shoulders in an effort to calm me down.

“Kathy, calm down. I know how you feel, and if you think talking to a marriage counsellor would help us, we will do that. Whatever it takes, okay? We are in this together.”

I smiled. ‘Whatever it takes’.

Sometimes it took more than love. It took the effort to literally walk an extra mile and figure out what we needed, it took the willingness to let go of a promotion you always wanted, it took the sense of acceptance that you need help, and that it is okay to ask for it. Those dregs on the slate weren’t proof of how messy things had become. It just showed how years of togetherness had had its effects, but you chose to stick with each other and fight them. I was trying to wipe the slate clean all this time, when all I had to do was write a new story on it. Things weren’t always perfect, but you could learn to love those imperfections, and even tackle some of them. Like that Sunday breakfast, Dhruv and I may have become monotonous, but I would still always go to him for comfort.

And so we made that appointment to talk to a counsellor. Happiness was still on the same path that he was. We were just having difficulty finding it. However, one thing was certain, we would only find it together. A quick peck on the cheek later, he went to complete his presentation and I put on the gramophone to continue with my cleaning.

  ♫♪ ‘Love is all you need...’ the Beatles .proclaimed ♫♪

NOTE- My cynical mind told me they should break off their marriage, but my rational mind said love conquers all! I guess The Beatles were right all along. I loved writing this story series, I hope you liked reading it too, do let me know if you did! Thank you for sticking by Dhruv and Kathy, and their story :) Until next time! :D

Wipe the slate clean- Part 2.

Mornings were the best in our apartment. The sun rays found their way directly to the bookshelf which was right across the window, and illuminated them in golden light. Sure, the result of this was the spine of each book turned a little dull over time, but the words inside stayed the same. After all, everything turned bland in due course, but what was inside was what really mattered. 

I sleep-walked into the kitchen and made myself a hot pot of coffee. I took the first sip and felt each cell of my body slowly waking up. Then my eyes fell on the balcony door which was neither open, nor shut, it just swayed in the middle. I was suddenly reminded of that time in college seven years ago, when he and I were arguing over whether the classroom window remains open or not. I liked everything dark and gloomy. He, on the other hand, argued that a classroom wasn't supposed to be dark and gloomy, which was right, but I just liked being stubborn. We finally decided to leave it half-open. That way we both won. Memories have a way of sneaking up on you and catching you off-guard. Just when things are going downhill, they give you reasons for why you should try to mend them. I smiled at this memory, and decided to buy a bucket of KFC on my way back from work tonight. Food always made us happy. Especially when it was chicken, and deep fried.

Absent-minded, I stepped inside the balcony. Traffic was a drag as seen from the sixth floor. There were several yellow buses lined up, with school children inside them who looked like little lego people. I decided it would be wise to leave a little early today, so I rinsed my cup and started getting ready for work. I rummaged through my wardrobe to find a kurti which was both clean and ironed. A herculean task, clearly. You would think that marriage and adulthood would make you act like a grown up, but it was all a big farce. Your wardrobes remained messy, and you still needed your mom to sort it.

When I reached work, my cluttered cubicle assured me that it was going to be a busy day. Files were piled up on my desk so haphazardly, that picking up even one of them imposed a risk of the entire bunch toppling over. It was like a mockery of jenga, only zero fun, and nobody won. Noon passed to welcome late afternoon- the time period when everyone is sleepy and nobody understands why they have to work. I was hazily typing away on my computer when my mobile notification tone woke me up. It was a text from him.

'Hi! We signed a big business deal today. The entire team is going out for dinner. I'll be late, don't wait up :) '

Well, there goes the KFC bucket down the drain. It was a sad day for both Colonel Sanders and I.

'Congratulations! Ok, have a nice time :)'

*Sent*

After a gruelling day at work, I reached home and put on the gramophone to play some Elvis. 'Are you lonesome tonight?' played, and I was prompt to change the song. I imagined the gods of fate sitting up there and laughing at me. It was almost eleven when the doorbell rang. His ruffled shirt brought back the smell of whichever noisy pub they had been to.

"So, how was dinner?” I quipped.

"It was okay. You ate?"

"Yes. I was about to order another ridiculous item from those tele-ads. Thank god you reached before that!"

He laughed, placed a brown bag on the kitchen platform and went to get changed.

"Hey, I parcelled some dessert back, maybe we can share it", he screamed from the bedroom.

This gesture wasn't made with a romantic intention; it was maybe because he was too full at that moment for dessert. But for some reason, it felt like I was getting him back in flashes. It was like a consolation prize you get after you lose a race, it doesn't mean much, but it's something! And just like that, a mundane day was suddenly sweetened by some lemon cheesecake. Colonel Sanders was still sad, but this missus wasn't!

Wipe the slate clean.

'We all live in a yellow submarine, yellow submarine, yellow submarine', the gramophone blared when I turned the door knob and entered the house.

We both had a knack for collecting vintage items. A pocketwatch, a typewriter, a gramophone, a vintage telephone, you name it. We had it all. Even our furniture had a retro feel to it, as if the varnish radiated a smell from the olden era. I  reached home past dinner-time. The sink had a used plate in it which told me he had already eaten. I entered the bedroom and saw that he was rearranging his vinyl records again. I hugged him from behind and he nuzzled his beard against my cheek, whilst deciding where to keep his 'Eagles' vinyl.

I undressed, took a shower, heated my dinner in the microwave, and sat in front of the TV with my plate. The movie dragged on till midnight. It was about a cop-turned-mass murderer-turned-philanthropist. I switched off the TV without bothering about the suspense, and wondered how Bollywood consistently managed to come up with stuff like this. I checked if the front door was locked, and the gas was turned off, and then retired to bed. He was already asleep. I got inside the blanket and put my arm around him. It felt so mechanical that I withdrew my arm and just moved closer until my nose touched his. He was lightly snoring, and his eyes twitched as if he was having a bad dream. He would be gone before I woke up at the morrow, and I would proceed with my routine uninhibited. We still loved each other, cared for each other, and even made compromises. Then why did it never feel like it was enough?

When you wipe a used slate with a wet cloth, it turns matte black, spick and span. Then when the moisture evaporates and the slate dries up, you see the persistent chalk marks still sticking out like an alligator's nose in a lake, and the matte black turns into a grainy grey. No matter how many times you wipe it, you can never get rid of it. These chalk marks don't hinder with the purpose of the slate, but they do bother you, and you keep wishing they weren't there. Our relationship was like that. We had all the prerequisites to make it work, but that's just what we were doing. We were only making it work. We couldn't get rid of the unwanted dregs that kept surfacing. We both could see it, and on weekends we would go on dates, try to get rid of them, wipe the slate clean, get the spark back. But these dregs would always return, and we just learnt to live with it. Like a stubborn cowlick, it would stand out.

We remained under the pretense that this is what the norm is, that it's okay to feel like this, that it's okay to not be happy about seeing each other at the end of the day, that it's okay to hug but never feel the warmth, that it's okay that our smiles never reach our eyes. We nurtured this denial until our partnership disintegrated into just a marriage. Today, we celebrate birthdays and anniversaries together, we open a bottle of champagne on reaching milestones, and hold hands while crossing a street. But every night before going to sleep, we question whether we do it because we want to? Or is it because we are supposed to?