Status Regained - Contd... -
by Dr. Subhash Chandra
(New Delhi, India)
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Her words were music to my ears. They did me a world of good. My self-esteem as a husband zoomed. A couple of times, I saw her standing in front of the dressing-table, scrutinising herself.
“Look here, Rashmita, I am not too keen on this affair. But what can I do, if someone has so violently fallen in love with me?”
“Be frank and honest with her. Tell her you are not interested.”
“That will break her heart. It’ll be caddish too.”
“That means you are in love with her.”
Poor Rashmita! I felt a little sorry for her and yet was amused. “You look so happy,” she said and burst into a flood of tears, covering her eyes with both her hands.
Two more letters came and they, too, were (mis)appropriated by Rashmita and all of them were replete with passionate avowals of irrepressible love for me. With each successive letter, Rashmita grew fidgety and paler. She lost appetite, banished herself from the innumerable meetings of the NGOs despite several calls, because she was on the executive.
Meanwhile, the forlorn look on her face, the deep sadness in her eyes had turned more acute. She would remain in bed until afternoon -- morose, dishevelled and unkempt. I thought it was time my feigned ‘amorous’ affair came to an end. But I wanted it to wind up on a proper note!
Pat came an epistle. It ran:
“My dearest dream: “I address you so, for you have remained a dream for me – fascinating but evanescent and out of reach. You tell me, it is preposterous, sheer madness to love you and ask me to stop thinking of you and writing to you. Well, it is not for me to contradict you. I agree, I have no legal or moral claims on you. You have a growing up son.
“Perhaps it is wrong to desire you. I shall stop writing to you on one condition: I should not be forbidden to dream of you. If ever you think my love worthy of you, all you have to do is to let me know and I ...."
The miracle was wrought. Rashmita came and kissed me, but this time, it was not the formal, cold kiss at the time of her breezing out of the house. It was full of warmth and affection.
The next morning, we woke up to the velvety pink of Aurora. The lost tenderness was restored; our hearts brimmed with love.
Recently I sent a book to a friend by Speed Post. He got it on the eighteenth day, when I had lost all hope, and was about to buy a fresh copy for him. But no issues with that. P and T will have one client, even when it is on the verge of closure. ***