The text message

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.

The new widow

She received a phone call from her father-in-law.

"Beti, your husband is no more."

Amidst his and her tears, she dropped the phone onto the floor. As her father-in-law's voice faded away, she could only see the haze of her bedroom through her glistening eyes. She imagined his 6 feet tall, muscular build laying on the hospital bed, lifeless and stone cold. She cried even more. Stretched out on her bed, her body shook uncontrollably as she buried her head into the pillow.

Last night, her husband had returned home at midnight, much earlier than usual. He was unusually quiet and his silence always scared her. It meant that something was amiss and she dreaded to think of the time when the silence would break. For two hours, she could only hear his heavy breathing and the ticking of the clock in the room. When she gathered her courage, she asked him if he wanted dinner. She only heard a grunt. She withdrew.

The next few hours, she watched her husband drink. With each drink that he guzzled, she felt her body muscles tensing. Her neck hurt. Her shoulders hurt. Her fists were clenched. Her breathing becoming slower. She counted the number of drinks he was having..counted and counted until she lost count. She awaited the news with fear. What had happened today?

She never found out. Her husband started vomiting. She saw that he struggled to breathe. He fell on the floor and continued vomiting even when on his back. She watched him. She turned her face away and watched him suffer. He stretched his hands out and she continued to watch him until he fell unconscious. And then she quietly walked into her bedroom and waited for the sun to rise.

The stench of his vomit kept her awake all night. In the morning, she called her father-in-law and told him the state of her husband. The ambulance was called. And now he was dead.

She cried harder. She looked at herself in the mirror and smiled through her tears. Her mouth would no longer be swollen, she would receive no more scars on her face, her bruises would now heal, and she was free.

Free from the clutches of an abusive husband.