Vanilla

She woke up to a bleak morning filled with shrieks of the alarm clock and blares of the traffic outside. It was still early, but the city followed the age old truism of going to bed early and starting the day very early. She made her way to the kitchen, putting the kettle on, and brushing her teeth. Housewives are adept at multitasking but somehow time was always running out. Next few hours passed in a daze, getting breakfast ready, the maid had taken the day off which meant dirty dishes at the sink and more clothes which needed washing...her son, was especially lazy and difficult in the mornings and her husband, indifferent, like always. It was only after eleven she could find some time to enjoy her tea, with the newspaper. Though that didn't cheer her up much either, every other day she would catch sight of some depressing incident or other, some one killed, or robbed or molested...everyday it seemed to her that existence was so futile and meaningless, if there couldn't be a philosophy behind this perpetual grind, at least there could be some flavour....every day, day after day, so bland, so vanilla.....

She remembered those early years of marriage and moving into the the rented flat, right in the heart of Calcutta, near Chandni Chowk Metro....the first flush of romance like the bitter sweet chocolate...lately every bit of the aftertaste is gone, not even faded, just gone...she didn't find joy in her son anymore, he was too much of a brat. Though, he wasn't completely to blame, her in-laws pampered him too much and she was too tired to undo the damage...so he grew with the false sense of belief that the world revolved around him and his snotty demands...she smirked thinking that it won't be too long before he would realize the hard truth...She bit her lip, it wasn't healthy to have such terrible thoughts about her own son, her flesh and blood, but she couldn't help blaming him somehow for creating such a rift between them....it must be that, initially believing her son to be her salvation she had poured all her energy into his well being, then suddenly realizing she had lost so much in the bargain...was it worth all the pain, she wondered at times. The bell rang, interrupting her reverie. It was the maid, “Boudi, astey dayri hoye gaylo (Boudi, sorry I got late)...”

After the late noon lull, the frenzy of the morning resumed in full force, school was over but it was her duty to make her son sit down for homework post lunch. Before long, the nosy kakimas and jethimas (aunts) of the apartments next door would come for tea and some mundane chit chat. The same old gossips and how they disapproved of everything and everyone.... “Tui boddo chup chap thakis re aj kal, Arpita, kichu hoyechey (you are too quiet these days)? Sujoy asheyni akhono (When is Sujoy coming)?” one of her “well wishers” asked masking her glee in false concern. She wondered if these people had also led to the chasm that had engulfed her marriage, maybe if she had been less polite, the neighbours wouldn't hound at her doorstep every evening and she would get some time with her husband....

The reasons were many yet none, but the fact was one, she never felt so alone before....She had built a house around the three of them, and now it seemed she was the only one inhabiting it...Sujoy had his own space and her son, lived in his own world. The phone rang, it was her mother...she seemed so querulous, Arpita regretted missing out on her fortnightly visits...but she felt terrified whenever she visited her mother, she was so old and so alone...sometimes Arpita feared she would end up like her, though her father had been dead for long, the lonely days of her mother had started early, she could understand her mother better now, the signs were always there. The bell rang again, it was Sujoy.

“Uff, era abar chole ascheychey (Uff! They are here again!)” he whispered, grabbing her arm roughly, “eder tara tari katao bole dichhi, roj roj er keyton (you must get rid of them, such nuisance everyday)!!” He stormed off to the bedroom. She stared at his retreating form, blinking nervously. She made some excuse for him to them, like she did everyday and then went to the kitchen to fetch more tea. As she went to the bedroom to give him his tea, he caught hold of her arm again, this time he was gentle.

“We need to talk.” He whispered urgently. She was surprised, “Can't it wait? They will be gone soon..” She was about to the put the tray down. He glanced outside, irritated and strangely nervous. She decided to hear him out. “They could hear us you know, the walls are thin, if this is really important, it wouldn't be nice if they heard us...” She sat herself on the bed. He signed, clearly in agony, he knew how much she hated having her emotions bared in front of people, how alike they were in that aspect...But he needed to tell her, so he took a deep breath and spit out some words. At first she couldn't make anything of it...she knew that he was under tremendous pressure at work but his promotion was long due and they were thinking of shifting to a new apartment, their own this time, near Behala. But why would he want her to keep this rented place, and what was he trying to tell her....She stood up suddenly, toppling over the tray by the bedside table, which crashed with a loud clank, shattering the glassware. He was leaving her! For some someone else! She screamed then, the words hitting home, not caring for the thin walls and the vultures outside...she ran into the kitchen, bolting the door.

Sujoy was transfixed, he stared open mouthed at the kitchen door. The kakimas came rushing in, “Ki hoyechey? Ki hoyechey (what's wrong)?” And then there was chaos...everyone of the tenants had assembled in the small room somehow in half an hour...there was so much noise and so many people trying to figure out what needed to be done...Sujoy was in a mess, and his son was traumatized....they wondered if Arpita had hung herself or was she planning to ingest poison or had dramatically slit her throat...the slow evening had turned into a nightmarish ride...with people and faces, and yet the kitchen door was determinedly shut, eerily quiet. An hour passed, the the door remained shut. Sujoy was forced to call the local police station. He twisted his hand in anguish....No amount of knocking, pleading, threatening and banging had proved effective...there was only one way out... “Break it open” The old uncle said, powerful emotions raging in his voice, “Bhenge de re...” The flood gates broke down, people hurled themselves at the door which initially creaked in protest, finally giving in...

There she sat on the floor, unharmed and unmoved, her arms around her knees...she had a strange smile on her lips, the same “Monalisa” smile women have at times....claiming her victory over him.

“Mona lisa, Mona lisa, men have named you,
You're so like the lady with the mystic smile,
Is it only 'cause you're lonely they have blamed you?
For that Mona lisa strangeness in your smile?”

-Nat King Cole