As she gazed out of the window looking the red skies that cautioned a brewing storm, she could not help but wonder if that was a sign of doomsday. On an ordinary day, she would have rushed out to feel the wetness of her nylon sari drape her silhoutte under the crying skies. But today, even her lack-lustre eyes refused to shed a drop.
He had walked out in a huff last night, anxious to reach the airport on time to catch his flight to Washington DC. They had had their fifth argument in two days over issues around physical intimacy, and she had once again made a cut on her arm to forget about her emotional pain and focus on her physical pain. She had been wanting to start a family for over four months now and he had been resisting it. Their sex life was dismal, almost nil, and he could not fathom how they would ever get it alive again.
"We do not even know if we still love each other, Sarika!!", he had exclaimed for the umpteenth time in the past few months. This sentence never failed to pierce her heart like a dagger. And yet she lived in hope, a silent plea to God that a child would bring them closer.
Normally, he called after he reached his destination. But today, she had not received a phone call nor a text message from him. She was not worrying, only very sad. She knew he was safe; that he only had not cared to call.
She woke up from her nap with the sound of a text message coming in. It was from her husband. It said, "Hi sweetheart! Missing you. Wish you were here with me. Can't wait to get back into your arms tonight!" She was overjoyed. She read and reread the message. She clung onto the phone like a child holds on to his new gaudy toy. For the first time in several days, she hummed a song, turned on the radio, and danced to the loud melody. She did not hear the sound of a text message coming in again. She went about choosing the sari that she would wear tonight. She picked a bright yellow one with a red border and gold sequins on it.
She kissed her cellphone once again and went about dancing, singing, laughing, grooming, cooking, and living the next few hours in anticipation.
A few dark and silent hours later, she lay lifeless on the couch, clutching her cellphone to her chest. Her screen displayed the second text message from her husband, "Reached destination safely. Will reach home on Thursday." Today was only Monday. She was not her husband's sweetheart. She was now her husband's late wife.
He had walked out in a huff last night, anxious to reach the airport on time to catch his flight to Washington DC. They had had their fifth argument in two days over issues around physical intimacy, and she had once again made a cut on her arm to forget about her emotional pain and focus on her physical pain. She had been wanting to start a family for over four months now and he had been resisting it. Their sex life was dismal, almost nil, and he could not fathom how they would ever get it alive again.
"We do not even know if we still love each other, Sarika!!", he had exclaimed for the umpteenth time in the past few months. This sentence never failed to pierce her heart like a dagger. And yet she lived in hope, a silent plea to God that a child would bring them closer.
Normally, he called after he reached his destination. But today, she had not received a phone call nor a text message from him. She was not worrying, only very sad. She knew he was safe; that he only had not cared to call.
She woke up from her nap with the sound of a text message coming in. It was from her husband. It said, "Hi sweetheart! Missing you. Wish you were here with me. Can't wait to get back into your arms tonight!" She was overjoyed. She read and reread the message. She clung onto the phone like a child holds on to his new gaudy toy. For the first time in several days, she hummed a song, turned on the radio, and danced to the loud melody. She did not hear the sound of a text message coming in again. She went about choosing the sari that she would wear tonight. She picked a bright yellow one with a red border and gold sequins on it.
She kissed her cellphone once again and went about dancing, singing, laughing, grooming, cooking, and living the next few hours in anticipation.
A few dark and silent hours later, she lay lifeless on the couch, clutching her cellphone to her chest. Her screen displayed the second text message from her husband, "Reached destination safely. Will reach home on Thursday." Today was only Monday. She was not her husband's sweetheart. She was now her husband's late wife.
