It has been about a week since the debacle and Shweta's period has still shown no sign of happening. Now that she's certain she's not pregnant, she's surprised and worried that her period is still absent.
Rather concerned over the delay, she speaks to her mother who is still raging about the fact that her daughter is no longer a virgin. She reminds Shweta by glaring at her every time she sees her. Not only has she been asked to turn her phone in, but her already scanty curfew has also been decreased to five o'clock in the evening. None of this has bothered her much; she's used to the strictness by now. She knows that her mother will get over the anger within a couple of weeks and for now she doesn't want to test her mother.
But she's been missing Vaibhav. Especially because the last conversation with him had left so much unsaid in the air. Did he want a relationship? Or was he just asking her out because he felt like he had to? She hasn't tried reaching to him for fear of her mother finding out. She'd almost asked Riddhi to use her phone but there's been an unsettling calm over their friendship once Shweta's little secret was busted. Riddhi had been calm, supportive even but there was something wrong here- something she couldn't quite put her finger on. But the years of friendship made her feel that something was indeed wrong.
Was Riddhi mad that she hadn't told her earlier? Somehow, Riddhi hiding her anger made her feel pained and almost betrayed, making her realize how Riddhi must've felt when she hid her own secret.
"Maa?" She asks her mother who seems to be lounging on the sofa. She's playing Candy Crush with utmost focus and Shweta cannot help but feel a little anxious as she approached her.
"What?" Her mother says, her eyes still glued to the screen. With her reading glasses on, her mother reminds her of a teacher in primary school who had a rather distinct hatred for her.
"I still haven't got my period yet." She says, hoping that her mother won't launch into the sermons once again.
"Hm." Her mother says. For a gynecologist and a panicky one at that last Sunday, Seema now seems fairly distracted when it comes to her own daughter's reproductive health.
"Maa!" Shweta says, now thoroughly annoyed by her mother's lack of attention.
"What? Okay, I heard you." She says, carefully pausing the game as she looks at her daughter. "I want you to wait for at least a month more. I don't want to start you on the pill right away for no reason. If your period is still missing, then we can go for an ultrasound." She says.
"Ultrasound?" Shweta echoes, "Is there still a possibility that I might be pregnant?" She asks.
"No. Don't you remember that I took your urine samples that day?" She asks.
"Well. Yes, I'd forgotten." Shweta says and her mother looks at her disapprovingly.
"Well, they don't indicate pregnancy and neither did your pregnancy test, I remember. But I hope you've learned a lesson. Shweta, this is not something to joke about. What if you had actually gotten pregnant? What would you have done then? Do you have any idea about the implications that it can have on your health? And for you to get so horribly involved with that boy? What sort of stupidity do you live with? Do you think life comes so very easy? Do you have any idea how hard it has been for me to raise two girls on my own after your good-for-nothing father left for self-discovery? Have you got any idea at all what people have said about me since? But no. You just want to parade around pretending you don't have a care in this world. I'll tell you, Shweta, you have a whole lot of responsibility on you. And that is to build a career. You might be exhausted from me yelling at you all the time, but I seriously don't know what to do. Someday, you.." Her mother continues.
Shweta listens respectfully. She knows how hard it has been for her mother and she's been berating herself since. She doesn't want to end up being a failure and embarrass her mother. She knows her mother has had it tough especially after her father simply walked off the face of the earth.
"Maa, I think she gets your point. She's not going to do it again." Shruti has entered the room, with a Hershey's chocolate drink in hand.
"Here. Drink this." She pushes it in Shweta's hand.
"I know she's not going to do this again. But that doesn't change the fact that she's already done it. I will not tolerate this kind of recklessness." Seema says, looking very frustrated.
Shruti signals Shweta to go upstairs, while she sits down to listen to their mother vent.
Shweta can feel the heavy guilt follow her up into her bedroom as she closes her door. She cannot stop her thoughts from going over to Vaibhav. Earlier when this happened, she had only been too happy to entertain the daydreams but after the fiasco, the immediate guilt that follows is crushing. The fact that she's not pregnant is something she's grateful for; the very moment she opens her eyes, each day. And then follows the disapproval in Seema's eyes; the perpetual why-can't-you-be-good look that has been haunting her since she entered her teenage years. It has led to Shweta musing more often than not; that she ought to be more like Riddhi. Her best friend's spotless image inciting in her a fit of cold, unnecessary anger that she desperately tried to stifle.
**************
An hour later, Seema is still in the drawing-room but her thoughts are far away. She knows she's overreacting but she cannot help but feel overprotective about the two girls. It's been eleven years and eight months since she last saw her husband. She looks at the vacant wall in the drawing-room where she's refused to put up any decoration of any kind- despite the girls bringing ideas from Pinterest and various websites. She looks at the wall that she'd left empty in hope; hope that someday he would come back and there would be a complete family photograph. But it's been eleven whole years now and she's given up all hope of him coming back. It seems ridiculous, this desperation of hers to hold onto something so very much in the past but she clings onto it like it's a tether to her sanity.
She remembers the initial years when she had lived with the hope that he would come back. He had been the absolute love of her life- their marriage the stuff Indian fairy-tales are made of. There had been absolutely no opposition from either side of their families and they were both doctors. He had been her senior in the Medical College and had later gone on to become a cardiologist. The initial four years of their marriage had been almost blissful. With little ups and downs, they'd sailed through pretty smoothly. With two cherubic daughters; theirs was a small, flourishing, and happy family. But with the beginning of the fifth year; he starting growing closed and withdrawn. She initially took it to be the stress of raising two daughters and the demanding schedule of a cardiologist. She tried to help him as much as she could despite the fact that she did herself have a very demanding schedule. Little sacrifices, she would tell herself.
Things started accelerating downhill when they heard about the death of a neurosurgeon- a batchmate of his. They hadn't been in touch but it seemed to have terrified him. It seemed to have made him so much more aware of his own mortality in a way the years at Medical College hadn't.
He was suddenly so very anxious and irritated all the time. It seemed as though nothing on earth could please him; not his little daughters, not his wife, not his flourishing career. Then began the endless fights; for Seema was exhausted of taking care of her two daughters and her career while he absolutely shut himself up and refused any form of responsibility. Sometimes not returning home for three days in a row.
On the last day she'd seen him, he'd hugged her on her way to work. This had surprised her for these days, he had begun running out of the house on the pretext of duty before dawn. But that day he seemed to be in an unnaturally good mood. She had smiled back; exhaustion and irritation evident in her once youthful face as she closed the door and drove off to work.
She came back home to a letter.
Not even an in-person explanation. Just a piece of paper where words were strung together in a careless manner.
Seema cried. She screamed. She was devastated. This was in a way worse than death itself. For if he had died she would have learned to live knowing it was inevitable but now she had to live with knowing that he was alive. Knowing that the man she'd loved, spun her entire life around had left. Like she meant nothing to him, rejected all that they had built together. He was alive but somewhere so far away from her grasp. She had tried so much, but taking care of her babies and the brunt of her career had taken so much of its toll.
And yet, it hadn't been enough for him. She hadn't been enough. They hadn't been enough. The rug beneath her feet seemed to have been pulled off, revealing a giant sinkhole within which she fell, never landing. For she had not lost only him but a part of herself. And she feared she would never find him again.
Her mother began living with her. Her elder sister living a bit far off, visited every weekend. They took care of the girls while Seema took a month off from work. It was too much for her to take. Time had never seemed to move more slowly and she spent every day aching for his return. She was convinced that he would return. He had to return, hadn't he? This wasn't how they'd planned their life. The anxiety of his absence crippled her, made her panic until she realized, despondent that he wasn't coming back today. The cycle went on, gripped her and she drowned in what seemed by a state of chronic anxiety and helplessness followed by a cold realization.
It wasn't until one day, she'd been sitting staring at the wall as she had been doing for a couple of weeks that little Shruti, almost ten years old at that time, came up to her. She sat quietly for a while and slowly her warm little hand made her way into her mother's cold, sweaty palm.
"Maa. We had an essay writing competition today." She had said, her voice timid and wobbly.
Seema had felt the tug in her heart when she realized how terrified her daughter was of her but she didn't have the energy to be enthusiastic. "Not now, Shru." She had said tiredly.
Shruti had run off not even waiting to coax her mother to listen. Seema sat there a sudden realization dawning upon her.
She suddenly realized how terrifying it must have been for her daughters to suddenly lose their father and have a dysfunctional mother. The girls had been quiet so far, with only little Shweta sometimes asking about her father. But intuitive Shruti always managed to hush her. Seema realized that while she had that pathetic excuse of a letter for an answer; her daughters had none. They had no reason why their lives had suddenly been uprooted and thrown around her. While her heart was still heavy, her mothering instincts kicked in giving a little hope to her tattered heart. She had the girls to live for and she would, for them. Thrive for them.
Later that night, Shruti had attached her essay with a magnet on the refrigerator. It was a badly written essay and the teacher had graded it a C. But it was a certain sentence that caught Seema's attention. It was my mother who had helped me take my baby steps. It is because of her help from before that I win the race last time.
Not eloquent and filled with grammatical errors but that had been enough.
"Baby steps." She had whispered to herself and she slowly had begun piecing her life together.
It had been difficult, living in a house with so many memories. And Seema decided that she didn't want to anymore. She had taken her daughters and shifted to a different part of the city; more in the outskirts. She had enrolled the girls in a different school and it was where Shweta had met Riddhi and the duo had become fast friends. Life slowly started looking up for her and her mother had gone back to her home. Managing motherhood and the tedious schedule of a surgeon had never been easy for Seema but it wasn't impossible anymore. For the first time, she wasn't depending on somebody else. There wasn't an expectation and it slowly hurt less.
For the first few years, she'd lived in hope. Hoping he would come. Leaving the wall vacant.
A couple of years later the grief turned into boiling rage. How could he? Did he have absolutely no sense of responsibility? With time the rage cooled down, slowly solidifying into hatred and later into a calm indifference.
An indifference now she was glad for. She did not want his absence to ruin her life in any way now and now she was proud of the life she had built. She had not only managed to provide stability to her girls but also to herself.
As she sat there in the living room, the past flows into her head but it doesn't send her spiraling into desolation and despair anymore. Rather, she understands that each person has their own story and this was how hers was written. She had fought back well and had managed to bring about a positive change and that gave her sanctity. She feels a little guilty for yelling at Shweta. She knows times are changing and that sex isn't much of an issue among youngsters these days. She makes a mental point to apologize to Shweta and talk to her about the dangers of sexually transmitted diseases.
One last time.
A/n: Any queries, mistakes you'd like to point out, feel free to do so. My work is always up for improvement!
With love,
shortgirlbigbook â¤ï¸.