Friday, April 1, 2011

His Wife



Perhaps -Perhaps we never did meet.
For all I could remember is a faint black mole on your neck
And the early morning smell that you spread all day
...And the tiny ring on your nose which reflected sunlight
But I never saw amidst all the emotions
That you had an emotion that was bent on leaving.

And she says-
No I never infact.
The last thought in my mind
When I was about to leave for the mandap was You.

And I came
Just then
When she smelled of Kevada, Gajra
And not her morning freshness.
That mole was barely visible with that heavy benarasi.

-You know, I am perhaps
The most inconsistent lover ever.
And perhaps what I write is vaguely like Bukowski and Paz, not my own.
That I watch those French movies which depict too much sex for you
And that I can never make myself to understand your eyes
That you wanted to be loved and not made love to.
That mostly you gave in.
That you shall never like soccer the way I do.
That my love is not you but your body
But you have to trust me.

And someone thuds on the door.
Mamuni, it’s getting late.

Outside
Amal was waiting with his whole entourage of people.
Sitting in the mandap
Looking at the doors with nervousness
afterall he had never been in love before.

-You know, she says I am not the most beautiful women ever.
I am not Grace kelly as you like to think.
I look aweful in the mornings.
And I have mannerless sleeping habits
That I just watch old Hrishikesh Mukherjee stuff
That I like re-reading Jane Austin often.
That I don't know what the off-side rule is.
That your poetry seems self obssesed to me.
That I shall not sleep with you when you drink.
That I shall need you to cry on.
That I love you right now like no women can.
That I cannot marry Amal at any cost.
……………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Amal took her to Prague for their honeymoon.
Amal did not even touch her for the first three months of the their marriage
as she said she could not.
That he burned the funeral pyre of her mother
as she had no son.
That he cried with her when she passed away.
That he took her to an Italian Opera
And then a soccer match and told her painstakingly that why that goal was not allowed.
That she told him that she loved me the first night.
That he just smiled and kept quite.
That he stood up for her when Dhrubo da remarked on her cooking.
That he was a teetotaler.
That he has bought her twenty M&B's till now.

That she has almost obliterated me from her memories.
That I am just a one page poem to her
That they caught my voice through the door
that day forced her to marry.

Now she looks at Amal when they are making love and says-
A woman can be wrong, you know.
And he still smiles.

3 comments:

Divenita said...

I really liked this one!! :) the girl's part was very nice!

Pankhuri Shrivastava said...

The thing is that how can you write like this when you are not in love and surely not heartbroken!!!!

abhijeet rathore said...

this is arguably the best from you on this subject ...... i remeber when u use to correct my concepts on these sort of subjects when u tariq bhai n me use to sit together n chat on my fav road in bhopal ... we use to discuss the kinda a girl we would like to marry ..... wat my point is this u have refined on to my concepts by showing the depth n purity in this "his wife"
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