Letters From The Husband

You want some more coffee?’ Sunaina asked me worriedly. ‘You haven’t eaten anything since last night. Just four cups of coffee. Do you want me to call Dr. Bhalla?’

I shook my head slightly. She waited for a verbal response from me and needlessly started arranging the already in place cushions. Adults can act even worse than children at times. I wasn’t looking at her. And to be honest I was listening to her only partially. There were far too many things keeping my mind occupied at that time. The Mumbai rains, the glorious monsoon being one of the reasons for my quietness. I have always adored the rains. I kept looking out through the bedroom’s window of my plush apartment that was so safe, sound and in a way so very overprotective of me that it didn’t allow me to completely savor the nature’s gift – the immaculate rains. I remembered that how it was customary in our village to get drenched in the first rain of the monsoon once.

‘Rajeev you have to get over it. It’s been a week.’ Sunaina said again after she had nothing more to take care of in the room which in fact was also her bedroom. Sunaina my better half, the perfect combination of beauty with brains, that’s what my aunt had told my mother when she had once come to our house 20 years ago with the marriage proposal of her close friend’s marriageable daughter. Suddenly I realized how far I had come - twenty long years. Now I was about to turn forty seven next month, Sunaina was three years younger than me, but she still looked barely forty.

‘I’ll be forty seven next month Sunaina. Dileep was also forty seven when he…’ I choked on my own words. My business partner, my mentor and my best friend Dileep was dead. He died just a week ago of a sudden heart attack. It was a relatively young age for a strong healthy man like him to have died at, leaving behind a wife and two young daughters. His death had somehow affected me a lot emotionally. Suddenly the brevity of life and its unpredictability puzzled me. I realized that I had almost lived my life.

‘The question that troubles me Sunaina is that if I were to die tomorrow have I done my duties or is there something left to do?’ I said bleakly.

‘You don’t have to say all this. Do you like hurting me? People die. That’s a part of life. I don’t have to explain to you about life and death now, at this age huh?’ she said and started weeping silently. ‘I’ll leave you alone for some time. I can’t listen to all this.’ She left the room.

My loving wife, she couldn’t understand what I was going through. It was not that I was afraid to die. I had achieved a lot. Twenty years ago who would have imagined that a boy from Manjuri, a small village in Uttar Pradesh would go on to become the owner of one of the biggest textile industries in the country. But it was not the money, the fame, the materialistic possessions that I cared for. I even knew that my family would be safe after me as I was leaving behind a fortune to my wife and my only son who was now 19 years old. Then what was it that was bothering me. I had everything yet I felt a vague emptiness inside me. All these years I had lived with it, knowing about it all through. But suddenly after Dileep’s death the void, the black star in the universe of stars as I considered it had started making its presence felt. I had to end it before going away forever.

‘I am going to Delhi.’ I said to my wife who had returned to my room with a servant who was supposed to give me head massage.

‘But you don’t have any friends or relatives there.’ Sunaina said restlessly.

‘I have. Please let me go. Consider it a trip, a small pleasure trip to take my mind off things. Harry (my trustworthy manager) will take care of everything.’ I said with a little persuasion.

‘In that case I’ll come with you’ she said thoughtfully.

‘No, I can’t take you. It’s important for me to go alone. Trust me I’ll come back in a day or two and everything will be all right.’

It took me a few hours to finally convince her. I took the morning flight to Delhi. I hadn’t visited Delhi in the last two decades or so. But why was I now going back? I thought as I strapped myself into my seat. The reason was Archana - my first and perhaps my only love. But I wasn’t going there to cheat on my wife. I just wanted to see if she was fine. As I thought more about her I thought of Dileep whom I had promised that I wouldn’t visit Archana again in my life. But what was the relevance of that promise now. Dileep was gone and was not coming back. The baniya babu I thought and smiled. The flight took off with a slight jerk and transported me back to the time when I was a young man visiting Delhi for the first time, with eyes full of ambition trying to make it big in the big city.

‘Everything is so expensive here.’ Dileep said as we sat in the rusty stinking overcrowded public bus that smelled of sour metal and salty sweat. I didn’t answer him. I was happy to be here. I looked out of the window of the bus and noticed how the people in the city were always scuttling after something and moving from one place to another swiftly. Our tiny village looked so lifeless compared to this place.

‘Where are you lost? We have got to cut down on our expenses. No more buses. We’ll walk from now on.’ He said counting the leftover money.

‘I know. Where are we going baniya ji?’ I asked.

‘My elder brother knows somebody in Timarpur. He has made arrangements for us near the university.’ He said offering me the dry peanuts. ‘The next few months are important for us.’ I said ignoring the peanuts. ‘We have to find some buyers for our cloth, So that we can come back later with some more. Papa ji has given me very little time to prove myself.’

‘Don’t worry my friend. You have got education. You have done B.Com. Nobody in our village has studied so much. I know we’ll just do fine. I am with you.’

Timarpur is a small place situated in north Delhi. The bus dropped us down at the chowk and we had to take a cycle rickshaw. Finally after a long tiring bumpy ride we reached our destination. The house where we were supposed to stay as tenants for the next few months belonged to some Rastogi ji. It was an old two storied house.

‘Wait let me call my son. You can’t carry these bags alone. You must be tired from the journey.’ Rastogi ji said as we entered his house. The luggage wasn’t much. We just had a few clothes for ourselves and the cloth samples in a couple of bags. Rastogi ji was a nice humble old man. He had deep sunken eyes and loose skin. He was a tad plump and walked with a slight limp.

‘What was your name again son?’

‘My name is Rajeev Gupta and he is Dileep Singh.’ I said.

‘Sorry I keep forgetting names. It’s the age you see.’ He said apologetically. We just smiled back. His son came down running from the stairs.

‘That’s my son, Amar. He is the youngest in the family.’ He said. ‘Take these bags and say Namaste to your brothers.’

He was just a young boy hardly 12 or 13 years of age. I didn’t let him take all our bags but just one to satisfy him. He took us to our room. The house was quite shabby. I noticed the ceilings and walls had turned black as if they were painted a century ago. ‘This is all we can get for the little money that we are paying.’ Dileep said as we both dived into our beds and went to sleep at once.

We woke up late in the evening. Young Amar came to our room and asked us to come down for dinner.

‘Do you go to school?’ I asked. ‘Yes I am in 5Th standard.’ He said grinning. ‘Good.’ I said and smiled at him affectionately.

We went downstairs back to the porch where we had met Rastogi ji in the morning. The bighearted old man had made arrangements for our dinner. It wasn’t a very lavish dinner. But his over the top hospitality and humbleness took my breath away. A small table and few chairs were arranged and the food was served to us in steel plates. There was black Daal, rice, chapattis and paneer. The food was delicious and both Dileep and I gobbled down hungrily.

‘The food was really tasty.’ Dileep said to Rastogi ji.

‘Archana, my elder daughter cooked it. She is a wonderful cook.’ Rastogi ji said lighting a cigarette. ‘Here she comes.’

Both of us looked up instantly. A young girl wearing a green salwaar suit came down to the porch. I have to admit that she was the prettiest girl I had ever met. None of the girls in our village could match with her beauty. She was fair complexioned and had long black hair. Her features were sharp. Lovely dark eyes and exceptionally shaped red lips. I fell in love with her at once. It was unquestionably love at first sight.

‘Baba, I was thinking of writing a letter to him.’ she said respectfully.

‘Okay beta, write tomorrow. It’s late. You go to sleep. And these two boys are going to stay here for a few months.’ Rastogi ji said. The girl folded her hands and wished us. She took away our dirty plates. I kept looking at her mutely. I was simply awe struck by her beauty.

After she had left, Rastogi ji started speaking again softly. ‘Such a nice girl, but what’s her fault?’

‘What fault?’ I said quizzically.

Rastogi ji heaved a long weary sigh and told us Archana’s story in his deep husky voice.

‘Archana lost her mother at a very young age and she looked after her young brother and me since then. After she completed her High School I knew that she was ready to get married. I got a lot of marriage proposals for her but they all demanded dowry which I couldn’t afford. Finally after a few years I found a guy who wasn’t as much educated as Archana, but his family didn’t demand any dowry. He worked in a paper mill in Calcutta. So I got her married happily. But just after 1 year of marriage the boy completely transformed. He started getting drunk every night and he even beat her every day. The frustrated son of a bitch left her at the Delhi railway station and ran away. He probably married someone else. Anyway Archana came back home somehow, but she was in a state of complete mental shock. She wouldn’t talk or eat. I took her to the city hospital and they admitted her immediately. After a week she started talking. But she behaved as if nothing had happened. She remembered nothing. She asked me where her husband was. The doctors at the hospital told me that she wasn’t completely out of shock and we were to act normally with her. If we tried to be harsh she could completely lose he memory or even worse. So for now she believes that she has come to her father’s house for a few days and has to go back to Calcutta. She even wrote a letter to him, but I know that pig has left that house where she posted the letter. Such a nice girl she doesn’t deserve all this.’ Rastogi ji said weeping inaudibly.

I looked at Dileep. He looked back at me. He seemed indifferent but I somehow felt miserable. The whole night I couldn’t sleep. I kept thinking about Archana and her inhuman husband. The next morning I woke up and told Dileep that I wasn’t feeling well.

‘But we have to meet the buyers today.’ Dileep said. ‘Anyway you take rest for today while I’ll go and meet a couple of them.’ I nodded.

After Dileep had left I lay in my bed still thinking about Archana. I still felt that I was in love with her. I tried to remind myself that this was not the right time to fall in love but it didn’t help much.

Suddenly Archana came to my room with a cup of tea.

‘Baba told me that you are unwell.’

‘Here take this.’ She said politely.

‘Oh thank you. I am fine, just a little head ache.’ I said taking the cup from her hesitantly. She looked beautiful as ever. She must a have taken a fresh morning bath as her hair was wet and the room got filled with her sweet fragrance in a minute.

‘Baba told me that you have done B.Com?’

‘Yes I have.’ I said taking a sip.

‘Then can you help me? I have to write a letter to my husband. You see he is in Calcutta. He must be missing me and worrying about me. So can you draft a nice letter for him? You are more educated than me, so you know how to use nice words.’ She said and looked at me expectantly.

I felt tremendously gloomy looking at her face. How could someone break her heart? She was such a nice girl. All she wanted was a good life.

‘Yes I can write it. That’s not a big deal. But you have to assist me. Can you?’ I asked. She nodded eagerly and took out a plain sheet of paper and a pen from a petite colorful hand bag that she was carrying with her.

‘Okay so what’s the name of your husband? I have to begin the letter with his name.’

‘It’s Somnath. But I call him Sonu.’ She said shyly.

‘Okay...Dear Sonu. How are you?’ I read it out aloud as I wrote. She nodded in approval and then dictated a few lines to me.

‘Do you miss me? Don’t eat much outside. I know you love whatever I cook. Don’t worry I’ll be there soon.’

‘Okay anything else you want to add?’ I asked her.

‘No that’s it. Just write at the end always yours Archana.’

I finished the letter and handed it over to her.

‘How soon can I expect a reply from him if I post it today?’ she asked folding the paper neatly and putting it inside a handmade envelope.

’I guess a couple of weeks.’

She made me write down the address and then went out of my room after thanking me a million times. I felt guilty for writing a letter that would probably never reach anyone, but only if it made her happy. I thought.

After that incident we became good friends. We used to talk a bit routinely. Mostly she asked me questions about my village and my home. I told her father about the letter but he just thanked me and ignored the rest. Dileep didn’t like my over friendly attitude towards Archana. He was just my age but always acted as my overprotective big brother.

A couple of weeks later she came to my room and I asked her if her husband had replied back or not. She told me that he hadn’t replied. She looked quite disheartened. I couldn’t see her like that. The lover in me couldn’t let her lose her gorgeous smile. So I wrote a letter on her husband’s behalf. I deliberately altered my hand writing a bit. After writing it, I kept it in the mail box.

The next day as I was getting ready to go out with Dileep Archana came to my room. She didn’t say anything and just cheerfully handed me over the letter.

Dear Archana,

How are you? I miss you a lot. Every day when I go out to eat I miss your delicious food. I miss your sweet fragrance with which you filled the whole house in the mornings. I miss our late night chats. The house feels so empty without you. But you take care of Baba. You went to Delhi specifically for that reason only.

Always yours

Sonu

‘That’s nice. I told you it’ll be delivered in a couple of weeks.’

‘It’s all because of you.’ she said taking out another piece of paper from her bag.

From that day onward she made me write letters to her husband. Just to make her happy I drafted fake replies on behalf of her husband. I felt guilty every time she came to my room with the request but I had no choice. I couldn’t make her unhappy. Not now. Every two weeks I used to write her back and this continued for a few months. It was a treat to see her smile with joy upon receiving the letter. The more I wrote to her, the more I fell in love with her. I started feeling as if I was her husband. She became an important part of my life. No matter how busy I was, I always had time for her.

‘We have enough buyers now. I guess we should leave tomorrow.’ Dileep said.

‘Tomorrow, it’s so early?’ I said sorrowfully.

‘Why you want to spend some more time with that crazy girl or what?’

‘Dileep never say that about her.’ I said furiously.

‘Okay I won’t say anything but what are you doing brother? You know she is mentally unwell. If you are thinking of marrying her you know nobody back home would approve of that. Moreover do you want to risk everything for this girl who doesn’t even love you? She loves her husband not you. You don’t love her you pity her.’ he said.

I couldn’t say anything. I had no answers to his questions. I knew he was right. I already knew all the facts well, but despite all that I still loved her. I loved her truly and selflessly. Something I had never felt before for anyone. But then maybe she loved her husband only. It was better not to mess up her life anymore. I thought.

The next day we packed our bags and came down to the porch. Rastogi ji stood there with folded hands. Both of us touched his feet and Dileep went out to get a Cycle rickshaw. I gifted Amar a schoolbag. I looked around for Archana but couldn’t find her. I wanted to see her for one last time. Finally when we were all set to leave she came down to me. I couldn’t hide my cheerfulness upon seeing her.

‘Thank you. You have helped me out a lot.’ She said and handed me a steel Tiffin box with some homemade food for the journey.

‘Thank you.’ I said feebly.

‘You will be a great husband.’ She said as our rickshaw moved past her leisurely. I could see tears in her eyes. My heart ached. I felt a terrible force crushing me as she disappeared from my sight. I wanted to tell her how much I loved her. But I couldn’t.

The plane landed at the New Delhi Airport with a jolt. I took a taxi and headed straight to Rastogi ji’s house. I couldn’t wait anymore. Restlessness took over me. I had no qualms about meeting her. I just wanted to see if she was alright, whether she was happy or not - The question that had haunted me all these years. If Dileep wouldn’t have made me promise I would have come here a lot earlier. Delhi had changed drastically over these years. I had some trouble finding the house. I felt goose bumps on my skin just like a teenager upon reaching the house. It had changed a bit. I pressed the bell and a man opened the gate.

‘Yes. Who are you?’ he asked.

‘Is Rastogi ji at home?’

‘Yes tell me I am Mr. Rastogi.’

‘No I wanted to meet… are you Amar?’ I asked shockingly.

‘Yes. But I don’t recognize you sir.’ He said.

‘It’s me, Rajeev bhaiya. Rajeev Gupta. Remember.’ I said excitedly.

It took him a few seconds to recognize me but he finally did. Then he told me about his father who had died a few years ago.

‘Oh that’s sad.’ I said mournfully.

‘Well he used to praise you a lot I remember.’ He said cheerfully. Then he introduced me to his family, his wife and two children. I felt embarrassed for not brining any sweets or gifts for the kids. We chatted a bit on some irrelevant topics that I had no interest in. Then finally I gathered the courage and asked him. ‘Where is your Archana Didi?’

His face became tense. He gestured his wife and kids to leave the room.

‘You don’t know. How would you know, it happened after you had left.’

‘What happened to her?’ I asked nervously.

‘Well she committed suicide.’ He said gravely. ‘She did that perhaps a couple of months after you left.’

‘What.’ I said and almost fell from my chair. He kept on speaking something indistinctly for a while giving me the details of the suicide but I didn’t listen to him. I thought that maybe my letters gave her false hopes that her life would turn normal again. Maybe that’s why she ended her life upon finding the truth. I blamed myself, cursed myself in my mind for what all I had done.

‘Baba really broke down after she died. He blamed himself for a long time. You know we still have her room locked up.’ He said. ‘Baba made me promise that I wouldn’t touch her room ever.’

‘Can you take me to her room please?’ I don’t know why but I thought that I should go to her room for one last time to say goodbye.

I noticed a strange expression on Amar’s face but still he couldn’t say no to me. He opened the door of Archana’s room for me but he himself stood outside.

The room was covered with substantial layers of dust, yet it carried her fragrance. Her presence could be felt there. I looked around and found her fancy handbag, the one she always carried with her. I opened it and found letters; letters that I had written to her from her husband and the letters that she had made me write to her husband. I was shocked to see that. I swallowed a hard lump in my throat. She knew it from the beginning. She never posted any of the letters. My hands trembled. A tear trickled down my left eye.

I walked out of the room quietly and then bade Amar and his family goodbye. On my way back to the airport I realized that we all had assumed that Archana was mentally disturbed but she had known everything all along. She had seen the love in my eyes for her. Perhaps she was in love with me too, that’s why she let me write those letters. If only I would have been strong enough to let her know my feelings, things would have been a lot different today. The realization made tears burst out with full force from my eyes. I took the flight back home and the emptiness followed me. I knew that it was going to be part of my life, whatever of it was left anyway.