'Adultress...'

The waves...the wavelets...rather, enveloped the ashes...the blackish- grey powder was slowly enveloped in their folds...in the waters of the Yamuna...Anant gradually let go of the पीतल कलश ...slowly it floated away in the murky waters of the sacred river...he had refused to put the ashes in the earthen one..he looked up at the ताज ...shining silently, sadly in the melancholic moonlight...just as it had done for the past hundreds of years...indifferent...to the life that went by...after all it was a mausoleum...how could he forget? The fact that a woman somewhere from a far-off, unfamiliar city had loved it...and all that it was supposed to symbolise made no difference to it... He felt nothing...sadness, relief, joy...it was as if he had lost the capacity to feel...he rose to walk silently up the steps of the ghat...this was his Ma's last wish...somewhere closeby in this strange, ancient city lived...he swallowed hard..the man...THE MAN...his Ma had loved to her dying moment...THE ONE he had been named after... Manisha cradled the baby in her arms...her expression was not of joy but of pain...of anger...the feeling that life had cheated her....may be her महादेव had mocked her in the worst way... possible..she was holding her baby for the first time..she felt nothing...."My son should have been HIS..." ...was the ONLY thought that came to her mind.... She looked up at Somesh..the proud father...."We will call him Anant...." the finality of the 'announcement' ...struck everyone ...her parents, her in-laws....the former barely manged to stop their gasps...it was HIS name..."Mr.Ghosh...may I have a word with you?"....Dr.Chandra's entry kind of 'switched off' the electric atmosphere in the room.... Manisha looked at the crumpled pages of her diary...written in Hindi and English...grammatically incorrect Hindi...but still she always loved the National Language....lovingly called it Rashtriya Bhasha...all these years..her diary was the only place where she could pour out her feelings....her thoughts...Anant had finally completed his MBA ....just as she had wanted...frankly her son had turned out to be the oasis in the desert that she called 'her life'...he had graduated, with flying colours, from IIM Allahabad...he would be successful... Manisha had continued working after her 'marriage'...she hated the term..She had continued to work for the multinational....one of the thousands of outsourced operations....that had mushroomed in a place like Gurgaon...

Kolkata (she preferred 'Calcutta'...)-Bangalore-Gurgaon...she had travelled a long way...for HIM...she had fallen in love...HE was from a different community, a different religion...and younger than her...nothing mattered to her...frankly...these are nothing...may be, excuses for rejection...as far as love is concerned...all you need is to be loved back...may be not even that...Manisha understood...HE was THE ONE... who had given her the 'ehsaas' of being a woman...had made her feel 'complete'...as a woman...she had understood the beauty of a man-woman relationship...ONLY for HIM...theirs was a relationship that was not to be...HE did not want it...but still she cherished it....loved HIM, respected HIM...as her husband...it was a crazy situation...HE had been too decent to take advantage of her...she was all HIS'...HE felt sympathy for her...may be empathy...but was clear...theirs' was a relationship that was not to be...her...why..had remained unanswered by ... GOD....by her महादेव...

The worst insult that Manisha faced...the cruellest mockery...was when people complimented her on her jovial, happy go lucky, even reckless nature and said that she was "the happiest person around...always happy....always laughing...always smiling...."...only she knew knew...the hurt, the pain, the feeeling of having lost out on life, the total hopelessness, and meaninglessness of it all.... that consumed her each passing moment...it was claustrophobic....the 'ghutan' she felt...only she knew....may be HE...understood...but...then...if only..... It was always THE ONLY relationship she had ever had...she had ensured that she never fell in love with Somesh...to her marriage was the 'adultery' she had committed...she had given herself up to HIM ...minus shame, minus hesitation, minus humiliation....at heart...she was HIS'...platonic relationships are laughed at...but she knew better...it was...may be...she had worshipped HIM as her husband... till her last moment...and even now....thought Anant...he held the diary in his hand a well as the letter....he turned back...down the steps....

There was no mourning at the Ghosh family residence...the quiet alley, in an obscure lane in Dhakuria...was silent as usual..there was not even the customary white pandal..the sign of the 'shradhh' ceremony...Somesh Ghosh..all of 57 years, was a shattered man...Manisha's death had reduced his quiet, middle-class existence to ashes....it was as if...he too had been consigned to the flames with his wife...wife?...the repugnance that whelmed him at the very thought of the word...was too much to bear.... Somesh's favourite joke with his friends had been, " Arrey bhai...my wife ...'emotionally challenged' hain...par us se kam....kaam... chala leta hoon...functional hain!!"...he felt really 'cool'...'in'...after all that woman did have something in her...he was her lord and master...but....she had refused to leave Gurgaon...but..more than made up for it...on her frequent visits to Kolkata....she had insisted on doing the same...even after Anant was born...their son had been brought up in Gurgaon...the Ghosh family was not pleased....but no one actually protested...Somesh was amused at his 'marital status'....but then she never questioned him...just ensured that she never listened to him... Somesh sat on their bed...it was the same one...on which their 'marriage' had been 'consummated'...he closed his eyes....pain? loss? sorrow? ....he felt hate ....welling up inside him....his 'functional' wife had died...leaving him feeling like the greatest fool on earth...she loyal?devoted?...the *****...that was what she was.... Anant's phone call..."Baba...I'm calling from the hospital...Ma... has been declared dead..."...Anant had broken down....mother and son had shared a deep bonding....she had brought up their son really well...Somesh had taken the earliest flight... The discovery of the diaries and the letter...changed everything...the letter was for Anant....it was Anant who had found both...may be...she had intended it that way...the scheming bitch...Anant knew about the diary...the letter was a surprise... Frankly...Somesh felt like going for a paternity test...if only..."I would rather be HIS *******...than be someone else's wife..." Manisha had written....the shameless woman...the letter never reached the police...it was a matter of family shame...Anant refused to burn it, though, he was stubborn like his mother...Manisha had committed suicide...the letter was her explanation... to her son...he would be on his own...she had fulfilled her duty....she had earned her release...so she said...she loved him...but...she had committed him to her महादेव...she had requested him to take care of her parents..his 'Dadu-Dida'....not even a passing mention of Somesh....and her plea that her ashes be...somehow Anant had taken it really well...very maturely..he was all of 23 years...the fact that his Ma had loved someone else...all her life...did not really surprise or shock him... Somesh had refused to perform her last rites...Anant had simply asked his father to leave...he would join him in Kolkata later...Kolkata was his Baba's city while Delhi-Gurgaon was his Ma's....somehow Somesh did not really want Anant to come down to Kolkata...he felt so cheated...why? what had he done to deserve this? his parents were no longer there....he hadn't contacted his in-laws...neither had they...Anant had called them up...had told them everything...they knew..they had known all along...and all this...right in front of him...like mother, like son...Somesh got up...the bed..should be burnt....like that *****... Manisha had been smart enough..they had no clue who that man was....who 'HE' was...he wished he had spat on the bitch's face before they cremated her...the sindoor, his jokes about his wife...haunted him, mocked him...without realising...tears welled up in his eyes...he had loved her...really loved her...in his way....always let her have her way...anger, betrayal, hopelessness...he tried to stifle his sobs a his knees gave away..he could never tell anyone...and Anant...knew everything...why...Manisha..why...

The waters of the Yamuna lapped at his feet....Anant gazed at the murky waters..this was THE CITY....the city where his Ma's 'HE' came from ...she had never referred to 'HIM' as anything else...Anant almost smiled...the shredded remains of the diary and the letter fluttered on to the water....the waves...enfolded them...almost hungrily..as if they had been waiting....all these years....he had always doubted if his Ma really loved his Baba..now he knew....he would print her obituary in all the leading dailies of the region...if HE was still alive...HE would...probably, hopefully... know..if at all HE, still, cared.... Anant bit his lips...no wonder his Ma loved the monument...he remembered his Ma for her jokes....for her laughter..for her guidance....for her support....her encouragement...for her understanding nature...her broadmindedness...she was liberal..."never judge others....Anant...you never know...what you will face someday..."....he understood, now...when his friends were begging for bikes..his Ma had actually bought him the latest one...he hardly knew Bengali...he had grown up learning a different language he realised that Ma had brought him up in the manner she had imagined HIS son to be...NOT his Baba's son...it was all so confusing... without realising it...he was smiling...imagine having an imaginary father!!!...he had inherited his Ma's sense of humour...horrifically inappropriate, and crazy...to say the least...the chill of the dark, silent waves brought him back to the 'ghat'...

I never could live for myself..at least I can die for myself...duties....family ties...commitments....a pretence...a sham....one unglorified piece of excruciatingly painful but great acting...one hell of a performance....YOU have come into your own...after all....learn to...

He felt sorry for his Ma...but still....was it really necessary...Baba's reaction had not gone down well with him...after Ma was dead...she had suffered silently...but foolishly..all her life...broken...failed relationships are not unsual....so many...but he understood in a very vague way...at least He had the consolation that his Ma loved him...for his Baba...it was a slap in the face...or even worse...What if he met the same fate with Aparna?...what if , Aparna left him one fine day....just walked out of his life...never to come back...would he react like his Ma?...but HE hadn't loved her...or so she had claimed...Ma....all 23 years of his life seemed too heavy for him to bear..did Ma really have to do this..did she really have to put him through this..she could have just died silently....she had kept silent all her life...so why now....why...but then...she liked to be honest with the people she cared about...brutally honest, at times...that was her way of showing how much she appreciated them...or was it...it....was all so confusing...the Taj...the Yamuna....the City...seemed so depressing....white...for purity...for sorrow....for mouring...had Ma been there with him, probably she would have driven him mad with her so called 'symbolisms'...but they were..insanely logical...inappropriately appropriate...so like her...

Ma had mentioned that this was 'HIS' city...Anant wished ... if only...he had kept it from his Baba that 'HIS' name was his'..but how many 'Anant's was he going to look for...the driver had probably fallen asleep in the car....they would have a long drive back to Gurgaon...Ma loved going on long drives...he still remembered the band that his Ma loved...she liked to keep the car stereo volume high...as she drove, or rather, sped down the highway with him...he loved those drives...they both did...strangely she had never brought him here... Anant slowly walked up the steps....he was trying not to think...couldn't bear to ....not any more...he took out his mobile....he needed to talk to Aparna...

Anant looked up from the manuscript. He shook his head and grinned..."Ma....this looks fine..errrr...ok..you can send it to the magazine. The stories they publish are far worse...well some of them, at least!" Somesh looked up from his Sudoko, "Haan go, shunchho...tomar Xaverian chheley rai diyechhen je tumi pass koreychho!" Manisha came out of the kitchen...looking undecided...as to who she should start with, "Keno??? tomader ar kono kaaj nei!! Amar lekhar kono critic-er dorkar nei...table-e alur chop gulo to shob thanda hoye gelo...cha ta niye ashchii khetey holey kheo!!" She stormed back into the kitchen...

The look of unquestioning love, gratitude and a thousand other inexplicable feelings that passed over Manisha's face were not lost on Somesh. After all, who knew his wife better than he did...it was their first meeting...her first words..." I don't want to keep any secrets from you..." that had made him decided that THIS was the woman he wanted to grow old with...

The obviously proud and loving look on his father's face did not go unnoticed by Anant...he turned back to the computer monitor...the names needed to be changed...few would realize why he was so proud of his parents...few realtionships had such a strong bonding and even fewer were based on the faith and love that Manisha and Somesh had for each other...Anant pondered over the name of the story...yeah!...what might have been!

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