Anniversary Gift

Soon after Anushua posted her selfie on Facebook, messages kept pouring in. Some inboxed, some wrote comments beneath the post, some called and some smsed. She felt like opening floodgates of adulation and appreciations literally. Everyone congratulated her and Sushanta. What she found most satisfying were the praises heaved upon her as an ideal wife to Sushanta.

In the baluchari she looked extraordinary no doubt. She struck the pose beautifully, holding a bouquet of flowers strategically in her hands, standing before the huge oil painting of a temple facade in their living room. Only one comment by Sudeshna, her childhood friend, on the comment box of Facebook rang a discordant note. ' Where's our jamai babu? Where is Sushanta da?' Sudeshna wrote.

This Sudeshna has remained the same all those years. Always making a different noise, trying to prove herself the different, not knowing that in most cases her cynicism attracts only detestation. Anushua smiled. She tried to shrug off the negative vibes that query by Sudeshna momentarily evoked in her mind. ' ar bolish na ( don't tell me) your jamai babu (brother-in-law) is always busy with works! Even on this special day, he has gone to office!

But he will be back by this afternoon and we will be going out for a dinner outside... however, I can't blame him, you know, for he has always remained the most caring one, see the baluchari? He has given it to me before going to office today! Bought it stealthily, without my knowledge, you see...' Anushua wrote in the inbox to Sudeshna. Sudeshna just 'wowed' hearing all these from her. ' You're definitely lucky, Anu' She wrote back to which Anu sends heart signs, red bubbly balloon-like signs which floated away in the facebook messenger box.

Most part of the morning till lunch time, Anushua spent answering congratulations and adulations from friends known and unknown, from near and far. This gave her a curious sense of belonging and fulfillment. After lunch with usual chicken curry and rice, she switched on the tv, customarily, without being sure which serial/soap opera would she watch. Her son had gone to school. He would come back by three. Before that, she would have to change from her extravagant makeup to the common place one. She would also have to make tea for her father-in-law and cut fruits for her mother-in-law.

Shyamali di, the housemaid, would not come in the evening. So she would have to prepare evening meals for her -in-laws. They usually take rotis at night. So she would have to make rotis, which always appears to her the most daunting task. After that, she would have to wait. Wait like a Godot, perhaps. For the arrival of her husband, for his better mood suitable for the occasion.

Thinking all these Anushua stood before the mirror of her 'dressing table'. Her face looked resplendent. The makeup was perfect. The face powder that she had applied gently over her face hid marks of tears around her eyes and cheek.

Most importantly that black botch around her lower lip had been hidden. Anushua slowly poked that area. It still hurt awfully. The black botch might be hidden but the pain could not be. It hurt badly. Last night Sushanta landed his full blooded punch right there in his drunken stupor. The black spot would remain perhaps as an anniversary gift, for the next few months, or years maybe, who knows.

Anushua started to disrobe. She would have to fold the baluchari and place it in her cupboard with utmost care. Afterall it was borrowed from her sister-in-law last week and she would have to return it.