Fourteen-year-wait

Pratiksha waited for fourteen long years for an answer to a question. Fourteen years is a long time to wait. Since Kaikeyi, King Dashratha’s youngest wife, demanded the throne for her own son and a fourteen-year-long forest exile for Rama in the Ramayana, the magic number has echoed in the Hindu mind as a signifier for an interminably long period. True to the meaning of her name, Pratiksha [Hindi waiting] decided to play Patience and put herself in the position of Rama’s newly wedded wife Sita who had to face enormous hardships and travails before she could return to her rightful place. Pratiksha stopped asking the question after the first few years. But it lurked in the background like a family secret waiting to be out. It was like a bitter pill that that washed away all the sweetness from their lives.

For the first couple of years, it was easy to keep up a semblance of normalcy and pretend everything was like before. Before Sapan decided that accounts was not his cup of tea and he needed to do something that was in tune with his interests. Of course, it took him fourteen long years to find his true passion. It helped that they were at that stage where most of their contemporaries were still pursuing their studies. When Sapan arrived bag and baggage and moved in her university accommodation without informing his employers that he was leaving for good, she was overjoyed to worry about the repercussions of his rash action. Besides, he seemed to be in no state to answer any questions. He would talk incoherently about profound existential matters and Pratiksha would nod wordlessly hoping that he would share what drove him to the decision he took overnight when the time was right. They were together again. That was all that mattered. Used to living frugally, she found that her stipend would cover essential expenses for the two of them until things got better. They never did and she reconciled to living without non-essentials.

The first six months were blissful. Pratiksha pretended that Sapan was with her on an extended vacation and they did all that they would do when they were on vacation. Like going on long walks both morning and evening taking in the beauty of the mountains and the lake. It was followed by a long leisurely swim and a hearty cooked breakfast. Vacations also called for elaborate lunches and dinners and she spent a large part of her day cooking his favourite food. She would report late for work and leave early and work mostly from home so that he did not feel lonely. She had no idea whatsoever about how he spent his time while she was away. Friends, mostly her young friends, would drop in the evenings. Fascinated by Sapan’s maverick ways, they hung on to every word he said and became his friends rather than hers. The conversation would drag on till dinner time and most of the days they ended up staying to dinner. She did not mind the extra work so long as he had company. But she was too tired by the time they left to be able to be able to write her assignments.

While she refrained from asking the question, it was a question on everyone’s lips a few months into Sapan’s visit, which popped up in ways sympathetic and sarcastic, “What do you do?” Other than the youngsters who seemed completely captivated by someone who had the courage to break from the nine to five routine, the rest, friends, family, acquaintances appeared completely bewildered that someone should quit a lucrative career for following some vague dream. Pratiksha stood by Sapan’s decision and looked on admiringly as he haltingly explained his reasons for doing what he did to people who found them unfathomable. After a few months, they stopped asking the question but there was no room for further conversation because Sapan did not share their concerns – about career prospects, EMIs for newly purchased apartments, starting a family and so on. He had noone to talk to except that the 20 somethings who appeared to adore him. And to her, of course, provided that she did not ask the unsayable question, “What do you plan to do?” She did not but others, who cared for her, did out of genuine concern, which brought the conversation to a complete halt because he did not have the answer. His answer was to spend the next six months with his parents until the same questions drove him back to the place he had fled.

Sapan spent the next fourteen years trying to discover his true calling. The first year, he decided to take up teaching in an alternative school. One year he would decide that he could be a professional swimmer and he would swim all day perfecting his strokes. Another year, he decided that music was in his blood and he could take it up as a career and he spent morning and evening practicing complex ragas on the sitar. The fourth year, he spotted the craftsman in himself and decided to learn pottery from a hereditary potter. He even decided to train under a state sponsored scheme for craftsmen and returned by the next available train when he saw their living conditions. Painting landscapes and walls was his next serious interest. He painted walls, fixed shelves and sketched landscapes to put up on the walls.  Baking and cooking was his effort to be a Master Chef.  When he tired of it, he began to train under a renowned classical singer to test his talent as a vocalist. Then, he decided to take up organic farming. They would grow their own food so that they did not need to work elsewhere. The produce proved that he had green fingers but wasn’t enough to sustain them. Finally, it occurred to him that he had a flair for writing and he could be a professional writer. In all his endeavours, he had one loyal admirer and supporter, Pratiksha. When she sensed his interest in anything particular, she pulled out all the stops to ensure that he could take it up professionally. But whenever she mentioned making a living out of something, he flew into a rage and she stopped asking any questions.

In the fourteen years, they were past the student stage where their idiosyncratic arrangements were accepted by others in the spirit of amused tolerance. Their refusal to conform to societal norms now began to invite unkind jibes and sarcasm. She remained the loyal, adoring wife standing by his convictions. Who decided that a man should be a breadwinner? Wasn’t there enough for both of them? How did it matter who paid the bills? Life appeared to be perfect so long as the question remained unasked, “Why don’t you take up…”? But the question was in everyone’s eyes even though it did not reach their lips. There was no way she could stop those intrusive eyes following Sapan wherever he went. The inquisitive gaze of family friends, neighbours, acquaintances and even strangers, including the friendly neighbourhood grocer and the fruit vendor followed them and penetrated the sanctity of their home. The unasked question seeped into all their interactions and turned their lives bitter. Haunted by the question wherever he went, he assumed it was she was asking the question.

But Pratiksha had stopped asking. Instead she had started praying as she had been doing for the last fourteen years in the wild hope that at least one of the gods she prayed to would take pity on her and grant her a boon. When she saw Sapan practicing the ragas, she began to dream of him performing on the stage. When she read his scribblings, she imagined him to be the next award-winning writer. When she watched him plant crops, she thought they could seriously become farmers. She hoped that a miracle would occur and silence all the questions that were driving them apart. The day dawned at last but fourteen years too late. “I have decide to resume teaching,” Sapan informed her. To say that she was disappointed would be an understatement. After all that chasing of exciting dreams of becoming an artist, a singer, a musician, a craftsman, a writer, to settle down to the everyday job of teaching was such an anticlimax. But it would at least stop the questions, Pratiksha sighed with relief. She had waited for fourteen years for him to discover his true calling and now the wait was over. 

After waiting for fourteen years for the exile to end, Sita returned to Ayodhya with Rama to live the life of a queen. But it was not her destiny to enjoy the fruits of waiting. Rama, the follower of dharma, drove her out once again to avoid the questions of gossipmongers. Never much of a Ramayana fan, Pratiksha began to understand what Sita must have gone through. Like Sita, she realized that fruits of waiting are not always sweet.