Rain on me …a monsoon tale in three acts. (Act 3)

After Savita’s eldest sister had got married, Sarita, her other sister, fell in love with the neighbor’ son and was also set to tie the knot. Her parents were keen to get both their younger daughters married off at one go – her father realized that he could not afford the expense of three weddings. So they stared hunting high and low for a suitable boy for Savita.

She sat through umpteen interviews, and patiently answered questions about her hobbies. She dressed up in her mothers’ favorite green chiffon sari, and she sat contritely with her eyes lowered to the appropriate level of docility. By the time, Rakesh and his family came to visit, she had lost track of the names and faces. It was all a blur.

“You should marry him,” her mother urged. “ He has got a steady job, and comes from a good family. What else do you want? “ she said. “ You can’t expect to get an engineer like your sister you know,” said another aunt who was still peeved at the fact that her elder sister had married an engineer while her own daughter had not. And so, at the age of 21 she was married and was Mrs Savita Sehgal.

Rakesh was eight years her senior. He was not a handsome man, nor was he a man of many words. And while he spoke little, he smiled even less. But Rakesh was not particularly unkind or unpleasant. He was hardworking, reliable, and prudent, and had turned out to be just the kind of husband her parents had hoped for. Even as a young couple, they had not shared any passion – they had not indulged in any giggly lovemaking nor had they had any loud fights that the neighbors could overhear. Savita could still remember the awkwardness of their honeymoon.

They had gone to Shimla, and as she looked out of the window to see the little train pull into the station, images of Nitu Singh and Rishi Kapoor cavorting in the hills flitted through her mind. As the train halted, her dream sequence was rudely interrupted as well. Here she was on her honeymoon with her husband and her mother-in-law. They got rooms in a hotel that was strangely called Seaside View though there was no sea or lake for miles around, her mother-in-law was in the adjoining room, and all through the night she lay uncomfortably awake beside her snoring husband.

Soon after their marriage, Savita and Rakesh got a flat of their own in a colony that at that time was considered to be in the outskirts of the city. She had hoped that the space would allow them to get closer, but Rakesh continued to be aloof and spoke in monosyllables. On the weekends, he buried himself behind the newspaper and occasionally commented about cricket. After they got cable TV, he became addicted to the soaps and stayed awake late at night to watch a show called MTV Grind.

But Savita couldn’t really complain. Rakesh did what a good husband was supposed to do – he was earning well, and had even bought a car. He didn’t drink or smoke or gamble, and he never really shouted or got angry at Savita. The only thing that he was not able to do was give her children. They had tried several options, and consulted many doctors. It had come as a rude shock to Rakesh’s mother that the fault lay in her son, and not in the womb of her daughter-in-law. But once she had reconciled to that, Savita’s relationship with her mother-in-law improved dramatically. But Rakesh’s inability to procreate drove them further apart. And while they had never shared any emotional or physical chemistry, even the perfunctory rituals that a man and wife share were gradually abandoned.

Two years ago, Rakesh had had a mild heart attack. The doctor had warned him that if he didn’t change his eating habits or sedentary lifestyle, things could get serious. For a few days after Rakesh returned from hospital, Savita tried to cook healthy and encourage her husband to go for walks with her, but they soon slid back into old familiar ways.

And then it happened.

Savita usually took a bath in the late afternoon after she finished dusting, and cooking and doing all the housework. On the weekends, she would eat lunch with Rakesh and while he took an afternoon nap, she would read a few pages of a book, and then take a long bath. This was the favorite part of her day - leisurely and self-indulgent.

This was a Saturday, and she had been reading a book that everyone was talking about - 'God of Small Things'. As she undressed and got ready to take a bath, she though about going to Kerala. She wished she could travel more. She looked at herself in the mirror. For a woman of 35, she looked quite young – almost like she was nineteen. Her face was still so young, but her body had filled out. She was no longer skinny, and her skin had ripened into a velvety brown. She placed her palm against her stomach and felt her breath come in and go. She thought of Estha and Rahel – the ‘two egg twins’ from the book – and wondered what it would be like to have something growing inside her.

Suddenly, she heard gurgling sounds coming from the bedroom. She threw a towel around herself, and rushed out. Rakesh was flailing and writhing about like a fish that has been pulled out of water. Savita rushed to the medicine cabinet to get the pills that the doctor had said she should use in a situation like this. Her hands wavered, she turned around and saw Rakesh's face contorting, she felt her breath rise and fall - she felt like she is standing in the path of a might river. She let go of the pills, and the waters rushed forth with all their force and fury taking her in the flow.

******************

Most of the guests have left. Her sisters and her mother-in-law are sleeping in the next room. Savita looks at the bed that now lies empty. She tries to imagine Rakesh sleeping there, but already she finds it hard to conjure his image. What did he smell like, what did he taste like?

She walks over to the balcony, and feels the cool moistness on her skin, and she can
feel the rain only a heartbeat away. She smells a familiar muskiness in the air, and she feels an old familiar longing returning – a longing from an ancient forgotten night.

At first there are just a few drops of water, and as the drops get sucked into the dry dreary earth, a wonderfully sharp smell wafts up. She hears a sudden loud clap of thunder, and she stretches her arm out with the palm facing upwards - waiting to catch the rain.