Posted in Life and After, Love

The Train Schedule

I finally checked the train schedule between Mumbai VT and Pune, something I had avoided for 11 years.

For 11 years, I had been stopping myself, fearful it might shatter your carefully preserved image in my mind—the one of a loving husband with a fiery anger; a vice you had no control on; the vice I had forgiven long back.

I had carefully avoided thinking of the day you went from Pune to Mumbai to submit a report. That night your best friend had called me at 7 PM after meeting you at Mumbai VT. You didn’t return that night, nor did you take my calls. You came at noon—no apologies on missed calls. You never asked me if I was alright.

Upon my query, you said, there were no trains. Like a loyal wife, I accepted.

I carefully avoided thinking that the maid was late, stepping in 15 minutes before you did, like always; that you looked too fresh to have spent the past couple of hours in the intercity; that you hair was still wet from the shower.

For 11 years, I had asked myself many times why I had seeked divorce. Every time, I told myself I couldn’t deal with your anger. I’m not sure why I checked the schedule today.

I wish I hadn’t—there were trains at every hour.

Posted in Life and After, Love

The News

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She still held the phone receiver between her ear and shoulder when her cousin came to retrieve it. She wondered if she should wash away the Henna to free her hands…mind…heart…

What did she care if the color wasn’t right? It won’t help anything now.

She tried to come up with the best way to break the news. Thoughts failed her. Her father had just undergone heart surgery and her mother’s blood pressure…Panic constricted her throat.

What if they blame her for not handling the relation properly? No doubt, they would ask why she never spoke about the ongoing issues before. So many times, she swore by his love. Every day, she lied through her teeth about their supposed daily calls. The other day, when her mother had asked why she was binge eating, she had laughed it off, saying he liked women with ‘substance’.

She wondered why she hid it then. Was it the shame? Pain? Denial?

Now, the day before engagement, she must tell them that he has called it off; that he tried loving her but failed; that he couldn’t bear to live the rest of his life with someone like her; that she begged him to reconsider but he disconnected the call…

She walked to her family, unaware of the free-falling tears blurring her sight. They looked up with concern.

All she managed to say was, “He called it off…”

They let out a sigh of relief.


Photo by Jez Timms on Unsplash

Posted in Life and After

Bonded Labour

The wife enters the room at night, bone-tired after the cooking, cleaning, washing and nursing routine.

Husband: Did you iron the shirt I asked you to?

Wife: I did not get time today.

Husband: Really?! You were at home all day while I was slaving away my life at work…

Posted in Life and After

My Dear Wife

My wife was smiling…

Did I mention she never smiles?

May be she did before she met me. I wouldn’t know. I’ve never been sober enough to let that happen.

So when I reached home from the Bar last night…or was it sometime earlier today, not sure since there is no clock nor calendar here…and she opened the door smiling, it didn’t feel right. So I hit her right away to set things straight.

Even that didn’t feel right, so I hit her head against the door frame as an added measure. The satisfaction was immediate.

She was whimpering on the floor now, blocking my way. So I kicked her in the gut to get her out of the way to reach the kitchen.

The food smelled divine. She had cooked my favourite dish. I thought perhaps this’s why the bitch was smiling, because she might get away without a beating that day…today…not sure…

I ate with relish, and woke up here before you, God Almighty.

Now I know why she was smiling.

I will have you write my murder in her record as my only complaint against my dear wife.


Image by Kat J on Unsplash

Posted in Life and After

My Dear Wife

My wife was smiling…

Did I mention she never smiles?

May be she did before she met me. I wouldn’t know. I’ve never been sober enough to let that happen.

So when I reached home from the Bar last night…or was it sometime earlier today, not sure since there is no clock nor calendar here…and she opened the door smiling, it didn’t feel right. So I hit her right away to set things straight.

Even that didn’t feel right, so I hit her head against the door frame as an added measure. The satisfaction was immediate.

She was whimpering on the floor now, blocking my way. So I kicked her in the gut to get her out of the way to reach the kitchen.

The food smelled divine. She had cooked my favourite dish. I thought perhaps this’s why the bitch was smiling, because she might get away without a beating that day…today…not sure…

I ate with relish, and woke up here before you, God Almighty.

Now I know why she was smiling.

I will have you write my murder in her record as my only complaint against my dear wife.


Image by Kat J on Unsplash