A late night conversation

Trigger warning: domestic abuse

“They say the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. They couldn’t be more right.”

Mr Goel picked up his paper cup of milky sweet tea, brought it to his lips but couldn’t bring himself to take a sip. He shook his head instead and kept the cup back on the table. The wall clock, hideous and totally out of place in its Mickey Mouse design, read 11:47 pm.

“My life is a story of excess. I wasted myself away in alcohol and drugs. Never once did I stop to think about the people around me, who loved me, and whose lives I ruined because of my indulgences.

And the worst part is, I had no reason to do so. No backstory that would justify my behaviour. My parents had been strict but fair. They did everything they could to give me a respectable life. They had nothing to do with me dropping out of college in the second year. It was entirely my decision. Sure, they had objected but I was clear that college was not for me. I was never interested in poring over books; neither Beethoven nor Balance Sheet caught my fancy. I wanted to get out into the real world and make a name for myself. I had that entrepreneurial spirit bursting at the seams.

I did alright, I must say. I set up my own shop selling sports goods in an upcoming neighbourhood. For years, Bombay Goods & Traders was the city’s go-to place for all things sports. I was good at selling. After a while, even my parents agreed that quitting college was probably the right decision.  

My life was like a boat sailing on calm, pristine waters.”

He stopped to stare at the flickering tube-light on the ceiling, guilt writ large on his face.  

“Back in my day, arranged marriage was how you met your life partner. Nobody questioned it, although today I guess you youngsters think that it is a barbaric institution. Throwing two people together into a new life with all its unknown trappings and misgivings. But it worked out just fine for me. My wife, who I met for the first time on the day of our engagement, is a wonderful woman. Pardon me if I’m being a little dramatic here, but it is not unfair to state that, had it not been for her, somebody would have found me lying dead in a ditch outside some shady bar years ago. She saved me from myself. But during the course of time, I have come to realise that nobody can save you for too long if you’re hell bent on ruining yourself, like I was.

Believe me, none of it was intentional. I was just trying to live each day to the fullest. And in my dumb head, that meant smoking three packs of Marlboro a day, snorting lines of coke and drinking like there was no tomorrow. While I’d run my shop all day, the moment the clock chimed 9, I would down the shutters and head to the bar just down the road. And I did it every night, seven days a week.

Some nights I would be so drunk that I’d sleep at the bar. My wife later told me that she’d wait till 1 am and if I hadn’t shown up by then, she’d call the bar owner to check if I was still there. Then she would just lock the door of our house and go off to sleep knowing full well that I won’t show up till morning.

And then there were nights when I would hit her. Yes, I was one of those wife-beaters. Go on, you can judge me, it’s alright, I deserve it. When I think about those nights, I feel so, so ashamed. What I am astonished most about are the reasons behind the brutality. She would innocently ask me whether she should warm up my dinner or not, and the alcohol would get me all riled up. ‘How dare you ask me such a stupid question’? I would say. ‘Of course you should heat up the food. Who do you think I am? Some peasant’s son who would eat a cold meal? Smack! Smack! Smack!’

Oh God! Why she never filed for divorce would always remain a mystery to me. Not that I ever asked her. I was too scared to hear her reasons. What if the only reason she didn’t walk out of our marriage was our sons? What if I didn’t even figure in the equation? Not that my behaviour deserved any better. But nonetheless, I would have been shattered. I loved, and still love, that woman with all of my heart.

But back then, I continued to treat her like garbage. May be somewhere deep down I knew she wouldn’t leave me because of our children. And I took advantage of that. I really am a world-class asshole.”

A young couple, holding hands, walked by the table. They headed up to the food counter and started browsing the stale food items through the looking glass.

“It isn’t only the beatings that she has had to live through. I have tried to commit suicide. Twice. And not for any good reason either. Not that I think any reason is good enough. It was the depression brought on by being forced off the drugs that made me want to end it all. But I was too much of a coward to even to do that properly.

Oh the embarrassment! Unlike me, she was well liked by members of the society. But after my attempted failures, she was too ashamed to even step out of the house. And when she did, she could feel the eyes of people, friends and family, boring down on her, asking ‘That woman must make her husband terribly unhappy. That’s why the poor chap wants out. What else could it be?

Our society never blames the man. It is always the woman’s fault.

Things did get better for me with age, though. But, I guess, the damage had already been done by then.”

The young couple, having decided on two sandwiches, now sat at a corner table, giggling and muttering what looked like sweet nothings into each other’s ears.  

“Sir, you must not blame yourself” she said.

“How can I not? I am the living embodiment of someone who did all kinds of shit and got away with it.”

“It’s okay, sir. He will be alright.”

But it was as if Mr Goel had not heard her. He took his face in his hands and words came out through the slits between his fingers…

“That’s why my son thought it was okay to drink as much as he did that night. That’s why he got behind the wheel of his car, thinking nothing would happen to him because nothing ever happened to his father.”

His words made way for tears to fall through the finger-slits. He wiped his nose with the back of his palm and spoke in a voice that was barely audible…

“That’s why he’s in a coma today… because he’s seen me being reckless over and over again.”

“Pray to god, He is merciful.”

Mr Goel rubbed his eyes, red and moist, and after composing himself, responded “Yes, that’s all that I can do anyway.  I will pray and ask for forgiveness. My son should not pay for my mistakes.”

The nurse gently placed her hand on Mr. Goel’s and smiled at him reassuringly.

“My break is almost over. I must get going now.”

“Thank you so much.” A single teardrop splashed on the table as if bidding her goodbye.

As she stood up to leave, a question came to his mind: “Nurse, why did you spend your dinner break with me?”

She smiled and said “I feel that this is a part of my job, too.”

He nodded with the smallest of smiles emerging from the corner of his mouth. As she walked away to tend to his son, he finally brought the cup of cold milky tea to his lips and gulped it down in one go.