He was restless; his spirits, sunk. His attempts at taking a nap went in vain, sleep wouldn’t come to him. He tossed and turned for a long time before sitting up and opening a book. But that didn’t help him either. The disgusting realisation that the world represented in books was a mere illusion did not let him derive pleasure from them.
Finally, Anil got up and dragged himself from his bed to the window overlooking the dusty road outside. The weather was blisteringly sunny, of the kind he hated the most. A couple of sparrows were playing their usual mating game, perched atop a branch on the apple tree. There were a few guys pooled around a carom board at the shop nearby. They were simply killing time, what else could they do? They were all men without jobs although most of them had completed their Masters. Anil was looking at these guys—all dressed uniformly in shorts and vests, with prickly stubbles on their cheeks and chins—when a little girl toddled past his window. Dressed in a white frock bedecked in blue and red flowers, the girl held a tiny little purse dangling from her right hand. Accompanying her was her mother, in tightly-fitted jeans and a t-shirt that rendered visible every outline of her body, luscious from every angle. Anil tried averting his prying eyes from the woman but couldn’t. She brought to him reminiscences of his loving wife.
How beautiful and innocent his wife was...her tall and slender figure, her beautiful eyes that sparkled so mysteriously! She was the epitome of beauty. Anil was proud to have such a beauty for his wife, a beauty who loved him tremendously. He remembered the first night of his married life, the first time he’d shared his bed with a woman. He recalled the love she had bestowed upon his them, the sort of love that transported him to a transcendent world more majestic and marvellous that everyday reality. How pleasant the night had been. He often wished that night had lasted for good, but time needed to move on its own pace, and nobody could alter or halt its usual course. However, despite all her charm and beauty, Anil held a grudge against Anuradha. Deep down, he was haunted by the fact that his wife was from a village and was uneducated. Her origins proved a serious blot on her personality for him.
Everything had been fine till spring that year. He was slowly recuperating from the mental disease that had troubled him throughout his youth, thanks, in large part, to a friend who had helped him find a job in a media house. He had been happy. Little by little, the struggles he’d braved to keep himself afloat in the glitzy Capital had begun paying off. As a married man, Anil had not wanted any relationships. He especially hated those men who neglected their studies took the college premises for a love park. But his resolution and his commitment had not lasted long. There have been few men who’ve been able to hold their own against women of irresistible beauty and Anil was not one of them.
She was civilized, educated, intelligent, and above all, she was temptingly beautiful. How bold she had been, like a Bollywood heroine. With that very boldness, she had professed her love for him, and he, already ensnarled, had not been able to snub her. “Darling, I love you more than anybody has ever loved,” she had told him, and he had forgotten everything else when he heard those words. She talked to him still in her sweet, crooning voice as she clung around her neck and professed her love. They went to parks together, visited temples, and attended fairs and Jatras together. Anil was doing exactly what he must never have done as a married man. He was cheating his wife, his daughter, and his girlfriend.
Anil had not told Shristi about his marriage for fear of losing her. He had grown very fond of her. He had also failed to muster the courage to confide in his family back home either. How long could he possibly hide this affair?
Last night, he had decided to finally call his wife and tell her everything. He had taken his mobile phone from the study table, fumbling, scrolled through his contacts and dialled her number. The mobile had rung its course, but his wife had not picked up. Anil, had hesitated, and then dialled the number a second time. After the sound of four or five rings had come his wife’s voice on the other side. “Hellooo...”
“Hello…! Anu, did I wake you up?” Anil had said in a pathetic voice, his guilty conscience reflected in each syllable.
“Uhm, no...I was just trying to get to sleep,” she had drooled.
“Why? Are you fine?” Anil had inquired. “Yes… but…When are you coming home?” she had choked. “How is Ashika?” he had asked, again. “Fine. She’s sleeping. Often asks when ‘Baba’ is coming home,” she had said.
Anil had remained silent for a while. He had felt, at that particular moment, a strong yearning. He had wanted to get home; much like the winged creatures of myth did in all those fairytales from his childhood.
“Hellou..?”
“Hum…”
“Why are you silent?” Anuradha had said.
“No, Anu...actually I want to tell you something. I don’t know whether you’ll forgive me for it?”
“What? What is it that you are asking my forgiveness for?”
“Anu, forgive me. But, but…I...I’ve cheated you,” Anil had said finally.
“Why?”
“What happened?”
“I have been unfaithful to you,”
Anuradha hadn’t said a word. “Anu...I’m sorry. It all happened here. In your absence, I fell for a girl.”
At that moment, Anuradha had felt as if lightening had struck her. For a brief moment, she could make no sense of the world. The person she loved and trusted most in her life had betrayed her. She had fumbled for words, but failed to find any. Anil had heard his wife sob, but he too had been unable to do anything.
Anuradha had hung up, leaving Anil with a bitter feeling. The first thing he’d done after putting down the phone was go to his desk drawer and take out a photograph of his wife and daughter. He had looked at Anu, all happy and radiant, and then at their little daughter. As he had run his fingers over the photo, he’d attempted to feel his love, his family...his beautiful wife and his little girl whom he had left back home.
It had been midnight, so the power was off. The curtain-less windows in Anil’s room, had been left open. Anil had dosed off on his study table, still tightly clutching the photograph. He had woken up the next morning feeling worse that he had ever felt in his life. He had been aware that his pretty new girl was still waiting for him in college, but he’d not felt like going there to be with her. He had simply lain on his bed, unable to think, unable to sleep, unable to do anything else.
The sight of the woman and her little girl had had an unprecedented effect on Anil. He had suddenly made up his mind.
He retreated from the window, packed his bags and headed home. As the bus wound its way through the hills that lead away from Kathmandu, Anil fell asleep. He had the photograph of his wife and little girl stowed safely in his pocket. He saw the two most important women in his life, in his sleep. He dreamed of his wife’s embracing arms, her eyes brimming with tears of love and hate.
- Chudamani Rijal
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