Such a question had never occurred to Rakhee as Vikram waved goodbye and trudged up the dewy road as usual. Rakhee watched him for a minute, another frigid morning greeting her as she did. President Street lay empty and quiet, too early for anyone else to be passing by. No traffic yet, bright sunshine, or any other indication that winter was drawing to a close and another beautiful
Gloomy and still, the morning was as familiar as any to Rakhee as she watched Vikram’s warmly wrapped figure grow smaller and smaller until it disappeared around the bend and out of sight. Rakhee smiled, just a little, not enough to assume any happiness at another ten hours of having the house to herself. She was far too traditional a housewife to admit such things, though the tingle of gladness at the back of her mind already knew.
With a sigh of slightly guilty contentment Rakhee wrapped her pale pink robe around herself, locked the front door devotedly and went back inside to perform her spousal duties. The meagre house looked neat and tidy but still, without fail, there were chores to be done. Rakhee never minded these things; after all they were expected, not forced.
Before commencing any of the daily house duties Rakhee first picked up the ancient cradle of the home phone and methodically dialled her sister’s number.
‘Hello,’ said Rakhee’s as the call was answered. ‘Hello, Resh, it’s me.’
‘Hello, the small one is up already. He doesn’t like to sleep much, don’t know where he gets the energy,’ relayed Reshini in a friendly voice.
‘Can I speak to him please?’ requested Rakhee.
The phone crackled for a moment before a tiny voice answered.
‘Hello mummy.’
Rakhee’s heart beat faster at the sound of the little voice. Life had granted her nothing else in the world other than her family, which meant everything to her.
‘Hello my baby, how are you?’ she asked eight year old Vinod.
‘I’m ok mummy,’ replied her son in a bored, uncaring voice.
‘Are you behaving yourself and listening to your aunty Reshini?’
‘Yes.’
‘I’m missing you and Salina so much,’ said Rakhee, her voice breaking slightly as it had each day since her kids had gone away to Reshini’s for the school holidays to enjoy all the things she and Vikram could not afford to provide for them.
With acres of space at their house, tons of places to go, games to play and amusement parks to visit it was no wonder the two children never gave any indication that they were missing home.
‘I miss you too mummy,’ replied Vinod unconvincingly. Then added, ‘I’ve got to go get ready, Uncle Sadhu is taking us to the zoo.’
‘Ok enjoy yourself and behave, OK. Can I speak to your sister?’
‘She’s still asleep’
‘Tell her to phone me when she wakes up,’ requested Rakhee before her son hung up unceremoniously.
Rakhee put down the phone and walked into the cramped kitchen to begin washing the dishes. Her little radio provided the only company. She didn’t mind at all. With Vikram at work and the kids away, she could perform her chores at her own leisure. It felt good, oddly liberating not having to centre every action around the needs of her husband as it was fully expected when he was at home. No, with the house to herself, Rakhee was more than merely an Indian wife; she was a free woman, even if just for a few hours a day.
Without realising it Rakhee’s hips began rhythmically gyrating to the crude song that was playing on the radio. The sinful lyrics and abrasive tone of the rapper gave her a forbidden sense of excitement, though she never consciously admitted this. Vikram would probably have a seizure if he knew how sinfully liberal she became in his absence.
‘No…this isn’t right,’ she thought to herself as she switched the radio to a more traditional, Hindi station that played mostly prayer songs and devout mantras.
Feeling less guilty Rakhee packed away the dishes and moved on to sweep the tiny lounge and dust the furniture, most of which was draped in antiquity. As she wiped the family photographs one by one, she took a moment to give thanks for her family, her only joy gleaned out of the otherwise dreary and submissive existence of a traditional Indian housewife.
She peered at a family shot for a moment. In it Vinod was still five, cute and adorable with rosy cheeks and beady eyes. Beside him
Vikram had aged a bit since the shot and even more so since their arranged marriage nearly sixteen years ago. Still, even now his faced housed hard, roughened features under his bearded face and strong, masculine cheek bones.
‘Sixteen years…where had the time gone?’ Rakhee silently mused to herself.
She could still remember the awkwardness of getting to know her husband whom she had only met on the day of their wedding. They had gotten through it, and just as her mother had groomed her from a young age, she had performed her wifely duties without question or any form of insurgence every year since then.
Rakhee looked over herself again. The picture showed a shy, plain woman. It seemed impossible that that same woman had once been a buxom beauty who never failed to turn male heads, a care-free, spirited girl that had once longed and dreamed of so much more. Her eyes were now wearisome and tired from waking up at the crack of dawn to see to Vikram’s ironing and lunch, her hands hardened and coarse from scrubbing and her face void of its once radiant glow.
With a sigh Rakhee put down the photo, cursing herself for being so sinfully ungrateful. Sure, she hadn’t had the good fortune of being wed to a rich doctor as her more beautiful sister had been. She sometimes longed for more than housework and seeing to her family and often fantasised about letting her hair open and wearing makeup and more modern clothing to show the world her beauty that lay dormant beneath. She longed to be more spontaneous and exciting like some of the other woman that lived on their street.
But still, she had a family and the security of a husband to fend for them. No matter how much she dreamed of a more liberal life, she knew, as the breadwinner and head of the household, Vikram expected her to be a proper Indian wife, one that did not shame or dishonour him. To be the wife she knew he was entitled to have, she was glad to sacrifice her own fantasies.
Like mother had always taught her, ‘In the eyes of God there is no greater blessing than honouring your husband and performing your role as a wife without question.’
Feeling a little better, Rakhee was about to clean the bedrooms and scrub the floors when the phone rang.
‘Hello’
‘Hello Rakhee, I am at work now,’ said Vikram in his deep, drawling voice still prickled with the twang of a Delhi accent, even after all these years.
‘OK. What would you like for supper?’ asked Rakhee as usual.
‘Anything is fine,’ replied Vikram before hanging up abruptly.
Rakhee gets back to her work, a quizzical buzzing in her mind after the call.
‘Anything is fine!’
What a strange request it had been. Vikram was always so sure of which curry he wanted each night and how it was to be prepared. Pushing aside the thought, Rakhee moved to the bedroom to begin packing away the duvets and clothes. As she opened the wardrobe she jumped in surprise. Most of the clothes on Vikram’s side were missing. Other than a few old shirts, only a dusty old coat remains with a little note pinned to its breast pocket.
Rakhee
Forgive me, for some time now I have kept a great secret from you. There is another woman and over time we have grown quite fond of each other. For years now I have longed for more than just a plain wife that submits to my every wish. As a boy I dreamed of a wife who would always look nice for me and treat each day as if it was our first together, instead I found a wife of routine, one that cooks and cleans, nods and speaks when I say so. This is not the life I imagined for myself. Even my own children prefer to live like Westerners and have no love or respect for their father anymore. I hope in time you will learn to accept my decision and understand it. Please do not look for me. I know that you are a capable woman and will take good care of our children. Goodbye.
Vikram…
With an ache of emptiness in her heart Rakhee fell to the ground, her brittle world shattered in an instant.
