The Goat Bite

She was different today. It is astonishing to witness a new side of someone you have spent years knowing and living beside. You question whether you had ever known them really or had you forgotten over time to notice those subtleties. Her eyebrows were different, her eyes were tired, her neck and hands had wrinkles and maybe it was the time presenting himself in a glimpse, but she had become older than how I remembered her. 

She sat beside me on the park bench. The bench was cold from the night before, the grass was dew-covered while the trees swayed to the gentle wind except for a few morning joggers, the park was empty. The small river behind us gurgled, pacing like there was no tomorrow. She shrugged the handbag off her shoulders and sat with her palms on her thighs, looking ahead. We both watched in silence at the swing creaking ahead of us in the playground. None of us spoke, there was strange comfort in this silence. 

I turned around to look at her. Noticing me turning from her peripheral, she turned around to look at me. We smiled at one another but the smiles never stopped. Her eyes began to tear and her little chin crumbled. 

“We rarely ever came here in the mornings,” I said, looking at the sky ahead of me. I could notice in the corner of my eye, that she didn’t turn her head away and was still looking at me, “I’m surprised by how nice this feels.”

“Yeah, sometimes I used to come here before going to work,” she agreed in her soft voice, almost quietly yet it was louder than the silence she had left. I couldn’t help but smile through the corner of my mouth after hearing her voice. “It felt good, but I guess I eventually forgot to come here”

I agreed, and once again it was silent. After a moment she began, “It has been seven months since we last spoke. I want to ask you, how are you, Rishi?”

“I was doing good,” I blurted out of practice, then I paused to look at her, “No. I am not good, but I’m trying. I know you too aren’t doing well. Did you eat something in the morning dear?”

She nodded, “Didn’t feel like eating anything these days. I am not hungry now either. You want to eat?” 

“Maybe later,” I said after a long pause. I had wondered if it had only been seven months. “It felt like an eternity, Lal. I didn’t know if it was right to talk to you either. My dad died three months before and I also quit my work, I just couldn’t. I’m sorry” 

“It is not your fault. Of all the people, I know Rishi. It’s okay. Your friends told me about it, I wanted to call you, but I wasn’t ready. I wanted some space away from all of this. For me, at that time, work was the only thing that kept me from – from… it,” she said, and I too hoped she wouldn’t say our child’s death. “I often wondered if I could have ever changed it but maybe–”

“When was the last time you played on a see-saw?” I interrupted.

She blankly stared at me, comprehending the question I had asked. She waited for me to apologize and let her continue, but when I didn’t, she replied “When I used to bring Pooja here to play with her friends…”

“No. You saw our child play on the see-saw, did you sit with her?” I looked at her, and she nodded confused, “When was the last time you played?”

“Maybe…when I was ten. I had some other friends to play and we once sneaked out of houses at night and hung out at the local park. There was a see-saw and we played till midnight. But Rishi, can we seriously talk about it once, if you don’t mind”

“Okay, we can” I stood up and offered my hand to her. “Only if you play see-saw with me”

“No Rishi. I don’t want to,” she hesitated in the beginning but then held my hand and gave a warm squeeze to it. “I just want to talk about it with you”

“Me too, Lal. Me too” I replied and held her hand between my hands. “Please can we play it?”

She initially hesitated but then stood up, picked up her handbag, and followed me to the see-saw. The wooden see-saw was small for adults and I hoped it wouldn’t break. I took my kerchief and wiped the seats off the early morning dew. She dropped her bag beside and we both climbed on the see-saw. Once we sat, I pushed my knees out and she hit the ground with a thud. 

I was worried, she might become annoyed and walk away. But she smiled back and gave a gentler tug on her side. My side went down, I screamed and I gave a tug when it was my turn. As we kept doing it, I saw her face lit up once more. She was smiler harder looking at me beam. 

 “Lal! When I was young, the park near my house didn’t have a see-saw and so this one day, I threw a big tantrum. Refusing to eat and rolling on the floor type of tantrum. So my dad picked me up, put me on his scooter, and drove to all the parks around the city. After searching the whole day, we finally found one. That day was one of the happiest I felt, the park was empty just like this. It was me and him, just pushing each other.”

The see-saw came to a stop in the middle and we both looked at each other. “Lal, I miss the life we used to live,” I said, tears rolling down my cheek, “can we ever go back?”

She was silent and she began to weep. I stood up and her legs gave up. She fell on the ground and curled up crying, the type where your insides shiver, your heart shrivels, and your body crumbles. I walked over to her and dusted the sand off her hair and hugged her with all the warmth I could bring. We lay on the sand in this beautiful morning, with the sparrows chirping to cry our grief, I thought. 

“We did what we could do, Lal! It wasn’t your fault baby.” I pulled her closer as she cried harder. I wanted to pull her so close that I could take away all her grief. I can take the pain for myself but seeing her in pain undid my soul. I would swear by my life, that when we sat back up, it could’ve almost been the evening, but it was still morning. I asked her if she was better and she smiled at me. 

“Sorry, Lal!” I said, “I let you down. With Pooja gone, I forgot that I had another child to care for.”

“I’m not a child, Rishi,” she said, wiping away the tears away from her cheeks.

“We all are children in the end,” I told her, wiping away her cheeks again and brushing her hair correctly. “Right now, when I look into your eyes, I don’t see women but a little girl who needs love. I didn’t know how to deal with my grief and I forgot to see you down there.” 

“Thanks, Rishi.” she held my face close to her and rested her forehead on mine. “ I took didn’t take care of you and left you when you needed me the most. I know deep down, you will leave me eventually. If you want to leave, I understand. I won’t force you to stay”

“No. No!” I said, “I want to stay, I always wanted to stay. I needed you then but I need you more now too. Promise me you won’t leave me again.”

She pulled me closer and we kissed. Her lips struck a bolt of lightning down my body, I felt like Frankenstein’s monster coming alive once more. I pulled her hips closer to mine and kissed her back. The months of pain didn’t matter anymore, all of it was washed away by her sweet spit. Once we were done kissing, I stood up and handed her handbag back to her. 

As I turned around, I saw two little kids watching us from a distance. Both of them had grim expressions and were frozen in place while watching us. I felt embarrassed by also endearing, reminiscent of my late daughter. Once they saw us, the little girl, who was holding her brother’s hands, asked “Why is she crying? Did she fall from the see-saw?”

“No. She is just sad, dear.” I replied smiling at their sweetness. 

“I was once sad because a goat bit me,” said the little boy, showing his tiny hands to us. There was a little cut on his middle finger, but the child displayed it as if it were a scar of war. 

“A goat?” I asked again.

“Yeah, we once were petting a goat,” continued the little sister, holding her little brother’s hand carefully, “He kept petting it, and I told him, don’t touch its horns and he did and the goat bit his finger.” The little girl examined the scar again, checking to verify her own story. “Chinnu started crying and it was paining for him. But daddy put a Band-Aid on Chinnu and he stopped crying. So we were sad, and Daddy told us that sadness is like a goat, if you pet it, it will feel good. But if you keep doing it, it will bite you and then you need Band-Aid.” 

I looked at Lal and we exchanged smiles. Grief is indeed a goat, and it is fine to feel it but too much grief can make you lose yourself. We smiled at the kids as the two ran to the swing to play their games. I held my wife by her shoulder and kissed her behind her ears and she pushed herself on my chest. 

“Do you want to go have some breakfast?” I asked her, looking again at the sky. The sun was scorching down on us. It was probably afternoon, I realized. “or maybe lunch?”

“How about mutton?” she asked and we cracked at the timing. She was true, revenge is a dish served hot with spices and a side of chutney.

“Aren’t you both supposed to be at school?” said the park security as he walked by the park. We looked at him confused. I turned around to see the swing, but this time the children were gone. Either they ran away from the playground long ago or it was just our imagination, I often wonder to this day.

“Do we look like schoolchildren to you” retorted Lal. 

“Exactly. The see-saw is only for under twelve. Since you both aren’t, you can’t play on it” said the security as he walked away disapprovingly, he mumbled under his breath, “Put a big board by it and they still can’t read”

On our left, there obviously was a big board that mentioned the age of usage. Lal held my arms tightly laughing and I laughed along while looking at her. Now when I looked into her eyes, she was older than I knew her. Naturally, her eyes had grown tired, her eyebrows were thinner, and her feeble hands had wrinkled.

Yet she looks the same as the day I first fell in love with her. Now that I thought of it, it wasn’t her body I loved, but that innocent child within her. That was never lost to me. She was indeed different, and the truth was that I had forgotten to notice her aging into a woman because, I remembered now, it was the child within her I was always looking at and that’s all there is to matter to me.