Bageshri

"तरुण आहे रात्र अजुनी
राजसा निजलास का रे?

एवढ्यातच त्या कुशीवर
तू असा वळलास का रे?"

The night is still young,

are you asleep already my prince?

Why have you turned away from me so soon?

It was almost midnight. The full moon was hospitable enough to send his light through the sills. The inconsistent creaking of the wooden windows added a melody to the consistent rhythm of the ticking clock; windy howls, in their modulating tone and pitch, played along to create a private, natural musical concert for us. It seemed like everyone wanted to contribute to this experience. The tidal waves, not wanting to overpower the harmony, only lent a soothing background and as a bonus, also took care of the olfactory department. The briny smell of the sea seasoned the environment to perfection. Having played its part in ambience management, nature took a back seat allowing the human presence in the room to take care of the pending senses. Sight, taste and most importantly, touch.  He was dressed for the occasion in a nice white kurta and pyjama yet he had decided to just lay there, back turned towards me. Cold, motionless and disinterested. Talk about an anti-climax to such a romantic setting. It would not have taken an expert in body language to know that he was least interested in having a conversation at that moment...    

अजुनही विझल्या न गगनी

 तारकांच्या दीपमाला

अजुन मी विझले कुठे रे?
हाय ! तू विझलास का रे

The sky is still ablaze with this garland of stars,

The same flame still burns inside me...

Alas! Why has your fire turned to ashes?

I had begun to brood over what seemed a completely spoilt evening until the moonlight offered a silver lining to the brewing grey clouds in my head. Unperturbed by his lack of reciprocation, my sense of sight decided to be independent. It made me see the man of my dreams in a completely new light, quite literally. A vivid memory of having laid eyes on him for the first time, flashed before me. I relived the entire incident in that short instance. Infatuation... a recurring emotion right since my school days but on that particular unforgettable winter monsoon evening, it was a mystical affair. My daily jog through the garden was generally quite uneventful, it was the usual scenario one would expect on a track. A handful of biologically blessed humans working towards perfection whilst those who found themselves on the wrong side of the spectrum huffed and puffed towards blessings. Honestly, there were some who could only have been helped by some divine intervention... The canopy creating trees had brushed their leaves with great intricacy in a wide range of green and yellow, probably as a fond farewell for the passing monsoon. The shadowy track added a hearty hue to the well-groomed garden. Picasso would definitely have been pleased. 

Whilst gauging the pride of Picasso, my running legs and racing mind stopped simultaneously. This male version of Mona Lisa was stretching his beautiful muscles (and my imagination) on the opposite track. I could sense my cheeks flush into a darker shade of pink as I stared at this mysterious yet mesmerising figure. Societal norms were the least of my concern and my eyes without a prompt tried to call out. I was in complete senses to put a rein on what my optics were up to, but then... I just let my entire body follow suit. Even in that brief moment, every little detail on that flawless face danced with me. His bushy eyebrows twisted and turned into an energetic salsa, dark, crinkly eyes with their playful samba teased me to no extent and his glossy pink lips executed the most charming ballet. I was not merely fascinated, I was bewitched. The surrounding disorientation and commotion did not faze me. Everything had blurred out and there was just one thing I was fixated upon. How could I have taken my eyes off this beautiful being? I am not one to believe in love at first sight but just by looking at the cover of this book, I had already fallen in love with its contents. 'Why?' is a question I had stopped asking a long time back with regards to him. Every time he was with me, I possessed the exuberance of a child refusing to go to bed, wanting to hear fairytale after another. Each page amazed me. I had indeed found the story I wanted to read every day for the rest of my life.

I was losing myself in the land of fairies and dance when the eerie silence snapped me back to the present. The temporary warmth lent by the memory was quickly doused. This champion dancer now bore a static look. There was no more salsa, no samba, no ballet, not even a simple movement. The book was no longer telling tales but wordless with clear, blank pages. 

It was getting tough to hold on to any silver lining.

उसळती हुदयांत माझ्या

अमृताच्या धुंद लाटा,

तू किनार्‍यासारखा पण
कोरडा उरलास का रे?

The ocean of my heart

gives rise to unbridled waves of nectar...

Then why is it that you remain dry and unaffected like the shore?

"Am I doing something wrong? Did I come off as too eager or desperate? Most definitely not? Not to my husband, please! This is just me overthinking. Should I just wake him up and ask him what the matter is? But that wouldn't be nice. I think he must be tired after all the wedding preparations for the past week. All the ceremonies and the socialising... Incessant chatter, random unrelated relatives, fake smiles, forced photoshoots... good food though. But... but then, I have done the exact same and I cannot even fathom the thought of falling asleep right now."

I was at a complete loss of emotions, words, activities but my mind rambled on like a machine gun that had been let loose. I had always believed that a 'first night' was one of ecstasy and passion and adrenaline. Being a woman raised in an orthodox household with unadventurous yet character enhancing morals, I had been looking forward to this night ever since I was a young adult. My peers often shared tales of passion during gossip sessions and despite being unable to participate as a contributor, I was always an avid listener. Maybe it was my upbringing or just the way I saw myself as a lady, pre-marital intimacy did not quite fit into my personality. Boring, perhaps... but I never complained and neither did he. Even as a couple we were the butt of a variety of jokes and we managed to laugh them off with ease. He and I had always found it tough to relate to this generation in matters pertaining to physical affection. It wasn't just our social circle, but as a society it was deemed a conquest to get a person from the opposite sex to sleep with you. Both of us found this idea quite repulsive, to be honest. There was no victory in a fleeting conquest. We could see our friends 'winning' such battles, but slowly losing the war with themselves... caught in a vortex of casual relationships, completely losing a sense of permanence.

Our permanence was intact but the war still had to be fought. An important battle leading up to this day was convincing our parents. Being the daughter of parents with an old-fashioned mindset is tougher than you would think... especially when it came to getting married. Both sets of parents were (thankfully!) pretty understanding when it came to accepting the concept of a love marriage. There were constant discussions between our families. One would think we were plotting a large scale government operation rather than a private small scale wedding. We were, finally, on what could be deemed as the last stretch of planning, having passed quite a few logical hurdles along the way. The ultimate obstacle though was uncalled for but it did pose as an obstacle. The positioning of the planet Mars on the day or rather minute I was born was apparently going to be the reason for my husband's death if we got married. None of our parents had thought of comparing our birth charts given the very evident compatibility we had. What good are nosy neigbours if they do not negatively influence your parents in such a crucial decision? We were two educated individuals with the aptitude to give consent for a union and no extra terrestrial body was going to make that decision for us. Despite the inhibitions of our parents, we gladly took the plunge.

The evening was supposed to be more than our first night. It was a celebration. A celebration of victory. A toast to overcoming barriers. It was my love and I laughing in the face of everyone who had called us prudes. It was my love and I wiping out superstitious beliefs. It was my love and I beginning our lives together, hand in hand... I sat there, ready to open my buds and bloom into a flower. I was still waiting for my favourite butterfly to spread his wings and fly to me, to take in all the nectar kept safely only for his proboscis. Alas! My butterfly was unfortunately still wrapped in his little cocoon oblivious to his surroundings.

सांग, ह्या कोजागरीच्या

चांदण्याला काय सांगू?

उमलते अंगांग माझे
आणि तू मिटलास का रे? 

Tell me... What am I supposed to tell the stars and the sky?

My body is ready to bloom and you have withered away?

I could not bear it anymore. It looked like the butterfly had to be enticed into leaving the safety of his cocoon. I had not waited twenty eight years of my life to give up so easily. Like a cat on a hunt, I stealthily traced his hairline with my fingernail, working my way towards his bearded cheeks and slowly in the direction of his lips. Softly, my leg worked its way onto his ankles, tickling his cold feet... trying to transfer some of the warmth from my body to his. My hand, unbuttoning his kurta, tiptoed through his chest hair onto his heart... I have never recovered from that moment ever since.

Mars, the Roman God of War had patiently waited for the perfect moment to play his hand. Right when we were about to celebrate victory in the war we had valiantly fought. Well, he indeed was dressed for the occasion, all-whites. A kurta and pyjama. Who was to blame? I was unfortunate enough to be born when bloody Mars was at a location he was not supposed to be. Is that why my husband passed away? Did I kill my husband? I am innocent, but in the eyes of society, I will forever be guilty. On a night, when I was ready and willing to lose something that I had guarded for so long, I unwillingly gained something. I was a widow, merely twelve hours after becoming a wife. Who would have thought that our 'first night' would end up becoming our last one...