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Sad Fiction Contemporary

Simran picked up the vegetable basket and hung it to the handle of the perambulator. She made Shina, her ten months old baby daughter comfortable in the pram and started pushing it slowly. It was 12.30 pm ; she had to reach home within ten minutes and make the lunch ready. Her son Ishaan’s online classes were supposed to be over by 1.30 pm.

It was mid winter. There was chill in the air even in the afternoon. Delhi in winter is usually beautiful with a lot of seasonal flowers here and there. But the pandemic had been threatening people everywhere. As a responsible mother Simran had taken a lot of precautions for everybody at home – her two children and her almost bed ridden aged mother – in – law. Simran had hardly any time to take care of herself in spite of having two helping hands at home. Actually she was too caring of her family.

Simran pressed the door – bell and by the time one of her maids came to open the door, she could here a groaning sound coming from her mother – in – law’s room. Keeping the baby strapped in the pram, she rushed towards her room. She saw the jug of water lying on the floor.

‘’Mummy, what happened ?Are you o.k. ?’’ Simran asked with anxiety in her voice.

‘’Where were you? I am feeling so thirsty.’’ Mrs. Sharma complained like a little girl.

Simran understood that in an attempt to drink water, her mother – in – law had tried to pour water into the glass but the jug fell down.

‘’Mummy, why didn’t you call Preeti or Jolly? You should not have tried to pour water yourself.’’ Poor lady – she thought and helped her to drink water. The lady was more her daughter than her mother – in – law. A faint smile came to her lips. ‘’ Mummy, I have to go to the kitchen to supervise the preparation of lunch. Please take rest. Shall I switch on the television ?’’

Simran made her mother – in – law comfortable and went towards the kitchen. She gave a quick glance at Ishaan’s room and found him in front of the laptop, attending his online class. The baby was hungry and started crying; she refused to take her feed from the maid-servants. Simran quickly pacified her by putting the milk bottle in her mouth. She fell asleep while drinking the milk. While putting her on the bed, Simran heaved a deep sigh. How drastically her life had changed ? Simran Sharma , the smartest and brightest student of the best college of the capital, the most efficient lady of the corporate world transformed herself into a hardcore home-maker. But for whom ?

Ankit Sharma, Simran’s Doctor husband, with foreign degrees in the field of medicine, who had been practising at the most reputed and prestigious hospital of Delhi, was so busy with his career that he didn’t have any time for his family members. He was busy in climbing the ladder of success and decided not to stop till he reached the top most rung of the ladder which was his goal. Simran  tried to console herself by thinking – after all he had a noble profession and was sacrificing his own happiness and comfort for serving the society. But in the heart of her heart, she felt a crack in their relationship. However busy a person was couldn’t he spare a few moments for his family, for wife, children , ailing mother? What about the promise which he had made during the days of their courtship ? They will respect each other’s time, space, desires, career and everything; they will walk the journey of their life together always.

Simran wondered how everything changed all of a sudden ! It first started with the booster dose of Polio which was to be given to Shina when she was three months old. Ankit told Simran that he had to attend a conference, so Simran should take the car with the driver and go to a clinic herself. Simran did that and then one after another, shopping, marketing, parents-teachers meet at their son’s school, visiting the bank and all other work at home as well as outside came on Simran’s shoulder. Even calling the plumber, carpenter and all other service providers became Simran’s responsibility. Ankit’s world became limited just between his home and the hospital. Three-fourth of his time was spent in the hospital and one- fourth at home. Ultimately he started coming home only at night , just for sleeping for a few hours.

Ankit’s target was to become the top most Director of the hospital and for that he was ready to go to any extent. Bitterness came to their married life but he was least bothered .

‘’What for did I marry the smartest girl if she couldn’t take the responsibility of the family?’’- he would ask whenever Simran told her to spend some time for the family. Again sometimes he would say – ‘’Simran, you are free to pursue your career. I have nothing to say against that. Children would be sent to boarding school and Mummy will go to an old –age home. But please don’t expect me to waste my time for trivial matters.’’

‘’Trivial ?’’- Simran was surprised. ‘’ Do you think our married life, taking care of children, wife, mother are trivial? Giving time to children, playing with them for sometimes , family outing once in a while – all these are trivial? And what about the emotional needs of the children?’’

‘’Crazy woman,’’ muttered Ankit and went out.

Since that day he started spending more time outside, stopped taking his lunch and dinner at home and became totally aloof from his responsibilities as a family man. Ishaan also noticed the changes in his father. Simran tried her best to give company to her children and compensate the absence of their father.

Ankit was a God figure to his patients. Simran’s friends, neighbours, relatives everybody used to praise him. With a heavy stone on her heart Simran used to listen to those praises. Somewhere at one corner of her mind, still there was a hope that Ankit will be like before again. He will again come back to her as a loving, caring husband. Little did she have the idea that something more shocking was in store for her.

Ankit didn’t come back home on their eighth Wedding Anniversary.Simran had prepared a cake , arranged for candles and roses, cooked sumptuous dinner and waited for him throughout the night while her mother-in-law and children were asleep. Next morning Ankit came home but not even once mentioned about their anniversary. Simran got a harder blow when Ankit left for the hospital and before leaving told Simran to send his coat for ironing. From the coat pocket Simran discovered a photo of Ms. Lolita, the daughter of Ankit’s boss, in a compromising pose with Ankit and a packet of contraceptives. For a moment, the whole world seemed to be topsy – turvy before the eyes of Simran. The baby cried, Ishaan asked for his breakfast, mother – in – law asked for her spectacles and newspaper, ……Simran could not bear the luxury of feeling sad and shedding tears.

The shattered silence between the husband and wife started increasing along with the gap between them on the bed. Ankit’s professional tours also became frequent. Gossipmongers started pouring into the ears of Simran with their sympathy but she remained poised, calm with all turbulences suppressed in her mind.

Then one fine morning she read the terrible news in a National newspaper – Ankit Sharma, the renowned doctor of the city met with an accident on the Expressway at the wee hours of the morning. His colleague Ms. Lolita died on the spot. Simran did not have the patience or courage to read the complete news report.

The next few hours were just like a film reel. Going to the spot, arranging for his shifting to the hospital, collecting his belongings and signing the bond for his operation, answering to the questions of Ishaan, her mother – in – law, neighbours, friends, family members etc. stoically. Simran had forgotten to smile, cry, eat, sleep, everything.

After fifteen days Ankit came back home on wheelchair. His legs from both the thighs were paralysed. Due to skull  haemorrhage, for which the operation was done, he was not in a position to talk or look at anything specifically. Nurses and attendants were appointed for him for day and night. Even at that challenging time, police came frequently for enquiries. Simran tried her best to manage all sides.

Days turned to week, weeks turned to month. Simran lost her youth at the mere age of thirty – six. One day Ankit made a hand gesture to the nurse and the attendant to leave the room. He wanted to speak to Simran in privacy.’’Simran, I am very sorry. I don’t know how to ask for your apology. I have done something terribly wrong; but believe me, I did everything for my career, not for anything else. Can’t you forgive me ? Can’t we start once again forgetting the past?’’- Ankit felt exhausted after pouring out his heart.

Simran looked at him with pity in her eyes – ‘’ Love means not ever having to say you’re sorry. You are apologizing, which shows there is no love in your mind anymore.”

‘’No Simran, it was my mistake. I had become so obsessed with my career that I didn’t think about anything else. I have got the punishment for that. Please forgive and forget, Simran.’’

‘’Ankit, I can forgive you but I can’t forget. I don’t want to remind you what all wrongs you have done . But believe me, while trying to accept everything calmly , I have forgotten how to love. I have become like a machine devoid of the emotion of love. For the rest of our life we will stay like husband and wife before the world. I will continue to do all my duties and responsibilities as a wife, a mother, a daughter-in-law. But I can’t love you anymore which I used to do earlier. For certain things, there can not be any second chance. Sorry Ankit, you have lost your career and girlfriend recently but you have lost the love of your wife, trust of your children and mother long back. ‘’- Simran gasped for breath .

Ankit closed his eyes. Tears trickled down his cheeks as he could visualize the edifice of his happily married life tumbling down in front of his eyes. 

December 04, 2020 09:48

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1 comment

01:49 Dec 10, 2020

Thank you for sharing your story! For me at least, it was exciting to submit my first story last week, and I hope you felt the same way. This story reminded me of when I took a class in my undergrad years. It was a class called Fiction from India, and it was one of my favorite classes wherein I got to read many fascinating novels and short stories. I thought your story was emotionally evocative, though far removed from my own life... it reminded me sometimes of the feelings of distance in my own family (my parents and brothers), and there...

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