Married Woman (31 page)

Pipee’s voice breathed through the craven recesses of her mind, ‘We have to struggle for acceptance and the right to love as we feel. Don’t you think so, Ant?’ But try as Astha could, she could not connect to what she was seeing. Her own situation was different, though if Pipee didn’t think so she would keep that information to herself.

In the intermission, Astha broke the news to Pipee as they were drinking coffee, ‘I have to go.’

‘Why?’ she could hear the concern in Pipee’s voice, feel her hand as it lay in the crook of her elbow. ‘Are you feeling all right? Don’t you find it interesting?’

‘Anuradha has a test. It was difficult for me to get away today.’ She didn’t want to go into the whole Hemant thing.

At the sounds of domesticity, Pipee’s face twisted slightly, but she merely said, ‘Why can’t the father sit with her for a change? Why do you have to do it all the time?’

‘That’s the way it is.’

‘Go then.’ She gave her a little push.

‘Dearest, don’t be offended, I’ll make it up to you, I swear.’

‘How will you go home?’

‘Scooter‚’ said Astha dully. How did it matter how she got home? Maybe she should crawl to that shrine of marital and maternal bliss on her belly, or drag herself on her behind with the stumps of her legs sticking out straight out in front of her, pulling herself along with her hands the way lepers did, begging for alms around the crowded intersections of Delhi.

‘Pipeee‚’ Astha could hear somebody shouting. ‘Hurry up, the next film has started.’

‘I’ll call you when I get home.’ She squeezed Astha’s arm again, kissed her cheek, and vanished into the hall warm with its comradeship for her, cold with its indifference towards Astha.

‘How come you are back so early?’ asked Hemant in a jocular tone, as he saw her descend from the scooter, her ears red and her nose now running like a river. Without looking at him, Astha held out a hand and said, ‘Hanky.’ Hemant took out his own and gave it to her. She blew her nose, at long last, through the tortures of the day, she was able to blow her nose.

Then she looked at him. He was smiling. He thought he had won, and now was trying to be nice to her.

‘Just like that‚’ she said.

‘Gay and lesbian films not your cup of tea, huh?’

‘Not at all. They were very good.’

‘Then?’

‘Then what? The hall was crowded, and I didn’t have enough to wear, and I was feeling cold, and I came home because I didn’t want to sit on the floor too long.’

Hemant looked disbelieving.

‘Have the children had their lunch?’ asked Astha.

‘Yes, for all you care.’

It didn’t bother Astha, his tone, nothing bothered her. She went inside, she was hungry, she had had no breakfast, and
she now ate some leftover lunch. Then she made herself a cup of tea, she felt a sore throat coming, and for now would think of nothing but her physical wellbeing.

That evening Hemant solicitously offered her a brandy for her cold. He talked of her painting, he talked about the children, he talked about her mother, his parents, he said maybe next year they would go on a holiday to America, by then the factory problems would be sorted, he worked very hard, and he needed to take it easy. And the car, what about that?

She, which car?

He looked hurt. The car she had demanded, had said she needed in order to be independent, he had arranged to get one in the company name.

In the company name. It was that easy after all.

What did she think of a white Maruti?

Astha’s feelers went up. She could not remember when her opinion had been sought about a major purchase. Why was he being so considerate? Was he trying to buy her? True, she would be able to rush to Pipee’s whenever she liked, in the car her husband had bought for her, but how was that going to make her feel? She didn’t want a car, she realised, it would end up making her feel more guilty, and were she to express all this to Pipee she would say, but it is your car, why do you feel you have to pay for it with mind, body and soul, she could hear her voice even now.

‘I don’t know how to drive‚’ she temporised.

‘I’ll teach you, we can learn every Sunday‚’ he said, caressing her. ‘We will be together.’

‘Yes, yes, I suppose.’

‘Try and sound a little enthusiastic, will you?’

‘I am enthusiastic, why do you look for meanings in everything I say? They say husbands should not teach wives, the relationship deteriorates‚’ said Astha irritably.

‘We’ll see. I don’t want to waste money on lessons.’

The car came. Hemant in fact had no time. In the end it was Ram Singh, the driver, who taught Astha in the colony lanes.

That summer Rajiv Gandhi was assassinated by a suicide bomber in Tamil Nadu during an election campaign. Political uncertainty meant that Pipee’s work in the bastis grew more demanding and she could not see Astha much in the day. Astha felt her absence every minute, and when Pipee called her in the evenings, she went, but her home situation was such that the meetings had to be hurried, not more than an hour, not much for lovers, certainly not much for Pipee.

‘Ajay has written. He is keen to sponsor me. He has been suggesting it ever since I finished my MA.’

‘What?’

‘A Ph.D.’

‘You never told me.’

‘It was before I met you‚’ said Pipee.

‘How come you never mentioned it? And why are you telling me now?’

‘Because his letter has come‚’ said Pipee in limpid accents.

Astha slid Pipee’s hand from under her shoulder and looked at it. There was the ring, there were the bones, there were the long thin fingers. She placed their palms together, and thought it was an illusion, you could never be one with another, no matter how hard you tried. It was better to realise and accept that, life became easier once you did.

‘Yes‚’ she said, ‘you better explore doing a Ph.D. It’s a good thing for the future.’

‘Well let me see. It will mean leaving you.’

And Astha’s poor heart rejoiced to hear she was important.

Driving home, Astha brooded over Ajay’s letter. She was not stupid, she knew why Pipee had brought up the letter. She
wants a full life, after six months she wants commitment, if I can’t give it to her, why shouldn’t she look elsewhere, but she didn’t want Pipee to look elsewhere, she wanted her to stay with her for ever, as she was, as they were.

Resentfully she thought of Pipee’s Ph.D. Suddenly it was a burning desire. Well, she knew why. She was saying if Astha had her children, she had her Ph.D., as though you could equate the two.

Astha: I have a fantasy, listen my love, and do not laugh. It is not much, I think it is not much.

I have a room, small but private, where my family pass before my eyes. It is very light, before me is a wall which divides the house, but I can see my children, that satisfies me, though to them I am invisible, that satisfies me too.

This room will be our room, you with me, living in harmony. Our lives are separate, different things call to us, different demands are made on us, but always that solid base beneath us, like two flies caught in a sticky pool they cannot leave.

‘Sticky flies? You must be mad.’

‘All right the image is bad. Still, you know what I mean.’

‘You are a hopeless romantic. You want me and you want not to leave your old life. It’s a nice fantasy, I wish it were possible. I also wish‚’ added Pipee after a little thought, ‘that it had taken place in my house.’

‘Does that show something?’ asked Astha, wishing that she with whom she shared everything, was not quite so into analysis.

‘Well, what do you think?’

‘I think nothing. It was a dream, an idle dream, for God’s sake, something I know can never happen.’

‘But it can, don’t you see, even in a dream you are in your precious Vasant Vihar. There are other places in the world, Ant, if you would only consider them. Instead you allow
yourself to be shut up by that man, who neither knows nor appreciates you, and for what? I do not understand.’

‘There are my children.’

‘Your children don’t have to be stuck in that house any more than you do.’

Astha’s mind boggled. What about their school, their routine, their friends in the colony, their grandparents, their father, who whatever his faults, did love his kids? Maybe she was deeply conventional but for her the business of raising children had a set of dynamics that were the standard ones. That those dynamics did not include companionship and understanding was regrettable, but she had grown used to it. She saw herself as a bird pecking at a few leftover crumbs from the feast of life. She said as much. Pipee stared at her.

‘I never thought of myself as a crumb‚’ she said dryly.

This drove Astha on to further explanations.

‘I love you, you know how much you mean to me, I try and prove it every moment we have together, but I can’t abandon my family, I can’t. Maybe I should not have looked for happiness, but I couldn’t help myself. I suppose you think I should not be in a relationship, but I had not foreseen … Oh Pipee, I’m sorry I am not like you.’

‘What do you mean? Don’t you want an honest aboveboard life?’

‘You are being unfair.’

‘When do you ever think of me? Always their needs, your needs, before mine.’

‘That’s not true.’

‘It is. You can’t see me in the evenings—’

‘How can you say that? Just the other day I spent the whole evening with you, I went home at twelve, I told endless lies—’

‘Who asked you to tell lies? I didn’t. Don’t you see, Ant, I want an end to all this deception.’

‘My whole life is a fabric of lies‚’ said Astha sadly, ‘you are the one true thing I have.’

‘And you don’t want to change it. That’s the trouble with married people‚’ said Pipee gloomily, ‘there are always others involved. Why did I think with a woman it would be different?’

Panic rose in Astha. Tears came to her eyes, and she felt a headache coming on. All she wanted to do was drive back, shut herself in her room, and sleep till the end of time. She got up.

‘What are you doing?’

‘Going home, since you ask.’

Pipee reached out and pulled her dupatta. ‘Don’t you get it? That I love you, I want you, I miss you?’

‘What about your other friends and your work?’ asked Astha in a small voice.

‘What about it? Work never kept one warm at night, and yes, I have friends, but they are not people I choose to be intimate with. Either I spend my time here moping, or I go out with them, talk, laugh, then come home to a flat which holds the moments I have had with you. It reminds me—’ Here she paused, Astha looked tortured, and Pipee continued quickly, ‘whatever it is, I don’t wish to experience that kind of emptiness again. Sometimes I go crazy with longing, and I can’t even pick up the phone.’

‘You can.’

‘I can’t. I don’t want to hear your husband’s voice, I don’t want to put the phone down if he picks it up, I don’t want to share your life of lies.’

Astha thought that if husband and wife are one person, then Pipee and she were even more so. She had shared parts of herself she had never shared before. She felt complete with her. But this was not the time to say these things.

‘I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be harsh‚’ said Pipee contritely. ‘Leaving a marriage, even like yours, could not be easy. I do feel that away from that house and those people you will be able to lead a fuller life. You have so much in you, so much to give, but take your time. Whatever you do it’ll be all right.’

Astha turned towards her gratefully. That her lover should understand how she was feeling was enough. She sank down to the sofa into her arms.

It was dark before Astha got up to leave. With the thought of Pipee in her mind, the scent of Pipee on her body she moved trance-like towards her car, driving slowly and automatically down the roads of Delhi.

As Astha parked the car outside the gates of her house Anuradha came rushing out. ‘I’m failing‚’ she gasped. ‘You have to see my teacher. Where were you? I have been waiting hours and hours.’

‘In what subject?’

‘Maths.’

Of course. It had to be maths.

Anuradha was biting her nails. ‘I’ll fail the year, I’ll fail the year, I’ll fail the year, I’ll fail the year‚’ she chanted in a frenzy.

‘Can we wait for the results before you decide that?’ demanded Astha.

‘You don’t care! Why can’t I have tuition, all my friends have tuition, but you want me to do it by myself, because you did.’

‘Anu, don’t be unreasonable. When did I say …?’

‘You did, and now you have forgotten. You want me to be like you. I am not, but you don’t care.’

Anuradha stared at her mother, tears streaming down her young cheeks. Dear God, thought Astha, when did I say she had to be like me? When did I say she couldn’t have tuition because I hadn’t? When?

‘Sweetie, can we talk about this later? I have just come home, I am tired, I don’t remember what I said and when and why. If it is necessary of course you will have a tutor, but you also have to learn to do things on your own.’