Role Reversal

As Santosh bent down to collect the day’s newspaper his eyes fell on the small patch of garden in front of his house. A few humble bushes and potted plants surrounded a comfy chair. It looked quite magical in the morning sun and Santosh spontaneously envisaged a few lazy hours there reading a delectable book.

“Vasundhara…can you make a cup of tea for me?” Santosh asked his wife as he stepped back in. He picked a book in one hand and was looking for his reading glasses when the reply came.

“Make it yourself,” Vasundhara said angrily.

Santosh looked up. Vasundhara was a beautiful woman in her mid fifties. As she brushed her hair vigorously in front of a long mirror a few loose strands came off.

“Uff…now I lost so much hair as well. Don’t you know I’ve to be out in a few minutes…always asking for this and that.”

Vasundhara settled for a casual bun at the nape of her neck and proceeded to dapple her eyes with generous sweeps of eye liner. She saw Santosh still looking at her with a hint of smile at the corner of his lips.

Santosh found it almost comical that Vasundhara zealously applied make up which only concealed her natural beauty.

But Vasundhara mistook it for a continuing plea for his tea.

“Still hoping that I’d get your tea? You never think of doing something for me instead!”

She leaned forward towards the mirror and carefully applied a loud lipstick on her pouted lips.

Santosh went out without another word. Decades ago Vasundhara’s words would have had ruined his day. But the sting of her speech no longer caused any effect on him.

He opened the creaky iron gate of his compound and proceeded towards the tea shop at the corner. The taste of roadside tea did not fail to invigorate his senses. Santosh was paying for his tea when he saw Leena’s car pull over.

Leena walked out of her car. Dressed in a pair of jeans and woolen jacket, she presented a picture of confidence and courage. A strange feeling of happiness and pride surged through his veins as Santosh looked at his accomplished daughter.

“Having tea baba? Let’s take a picture together,” Leena walked up to her father.

“Give us two more cups,” Leena told the shopkeeper. “Turn this way baba…the light needs to fall on our faces.”

She clicked a few selfies with her father and then started to rush towards the house.

“Your tea Lintin…” Santosh said.

“Later baba…”

Santosh walked back slowly to the garden balancing the two full cups and sat down in the garden chair in anticipation.

Within a few minutes Vasundhara and Leena walked out together, laughing in sync like twins.

“Bye baba...” Leena waved at Santosh.

“You could have said that you are coming. I’d have gotten pomfret from the market.”

“But we’re going out for lunch,” Leena looked at her mother.

“I told him in the morning…he didn’t listen as usual!” Vasundhara’s explanation was terse.

Mother and daughter had reached the car by then and it took off even before Santosh could think of a reply.

Santosh looked at his plants and sighed. He put down the book and picked up his smartphone. The desire to read was gone. Scrolling through a few funny video clips pepped up his mood and made him feel better. He was smiling to himself as he read a bunch of clever anecdotes when a pop up announced that he had been tagged in a FB picture.

Santosh clicked on the notification.

The picture of himself with Leena showed up. Both were wearing wide smiles, Leena’s perfect and his hesitant.

“Enjoying morning cuppa with darling daddy!” --- the caption read.

Santosh looked at the two cups of tea on the small table in front of him, growing cold fast.

A small lump of pain was starting to curl up within his chest but he stopped it before it became crippling. He decided to browse through a few blogs that had caught his fancy recently.

The authors were all feminists who wrote about women’s issues. Some were well written, some were shoddily done but they all offered a shocking window to the lives of Indian women.

The shock came from the fact that Santosh could relate with almost all the highlighted problems.

He started an article which portrayed the helplessness of a married woman who had 3 houses but no home.

Santosh read the piece two times over before putting his phone down. He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. The warmth of the morning sun was very soothing and on any other day he would have let himself slip into a delightful mid morning nap.

But not today. Today the memories from a long time ago decided to roll themselves in front of his eyes like a tragic motion picture.

He had started his marriage with Vasundhara with much excitement. She was notably prettier than he had ever expected his wife to be and a lifetime with her seemed quite enchanting to him back then.

However he had realized within a few months of marriage that Vasundhara was a rather self involved woman who offered no love to her husband. Santosh tried to take her out to social engagements hoping to make her happier. Everywhere she was praised for her beauty and Santosh was reminded about his luck. It did not make him feel good. Out of sheer desperation he quickly planned for a baby. Perhaps a common goal could help in bringing them closer, he had thought.

And indeed on the day Leena was born, Vasundhara and Santosh had laughed together for the first time. As Santosh supported his baby in one arm and wife in another, his life felt perfect.

But his joy was short lived. Soon after Leena’s birth, Vasundhara’s mother moved in with them to help with the baby. Santosh’s mother-in-law was a controlling woman deeply attached to her daughter. Bit by bit it seemed to be stifling for Santosh to live in the same house with her.

“I can’t take it anymore. Your mother is impossible to adjust with!” Santosh said one night to his wife.

“How ungrateful you are! She’s only helping with our baby,” Vasundhara was hurt.

“ I started living in a rented apartment to give you space and freedom. Else we can move back with my parents. They too will help a lot with the baby,” Santosh was fuming.

It turned out to be a long night and Vasundhara cried copious tears as she pointed out the flaws in Santosh’s family.

The more he heard, the more resolute he became about moving to his parental home.

So within a week a grumpy Vasundhara started with a wailing baby and an elated husband to live with her in-laws for the first time.

Santosh was extremely glad that day. It was the first fight after his marriage that he had managed to win.

His heart was filled with hope as his parents welcomed his family with big smiles and hugs. But things started to get difficult soon.

At lunch luscious lobsters and flavoured rice was served.

“I’m allergic to lobsters,” Vasundhara declared in a stiff tone.

“Maybe I’d have known that if you had lived here for a week or two, ” her mother in law was ready with the retort.

Vasundhara glared back and her mother in law smirked.

Santosh scratched his balding head nervously. This was not his plan.

He tried talking to his wife and mother separately. But neither Vasundhara nor Santosh’s mother was ready to relent. It was as if they relished the inimical nature of their relationship.

Every day Santosh came back home to be greeted as a judge. The two adults presented their cases and looked at him eagerly hoping for him to take her side. Santosh’s only relief was in being with Lintin who demanded simpler things like a fresh diaper or a warm cuddle.

Deep down Santosh had realized that it would not work out and he soon planned for a personal property in the city. He decided to surprise his wife one day with the news when the house was completed.

It was not meant to happen that way.

 Vasundhara had conceived again and the whole family seemed to be happier for some time. But after a few months of a complicated pregnancy she lost the unborn baby. Vasudhara sank into depression and little Lintin’s health suffered as a consequence. Feeling helpless Santosh turned to his mother to salvage the situation.

“Life isn’t fair son. Your wife could have miscarried the daughter. The nurse told me this one would have been a boy.” She was looking at the sky through an open window, shaking her head ruefully at some invisible god.

That one line was enough to break something inside Santosh forever. That night he was the one to pack the bags and the next morning he was the one to call a cab and leave with his family.

Santosh apologized to Vasundhara unconditionally and vowed that from then on he would never request her to adjust with his side of the family. They were finally in their new home and although the construction was halfway through Santosh felt an immediate sense of peace.

Within the first few days settling down proved to be quite a challenge. Vasundhara came up to Santosh and requested to call her mother. Santosh wanted to say a vehement no. He looked around at the house. Piles of unpacked boxes were strewn around while Lintin was running in circles in a soiled vest with a runny nose. Vasundhara had dark circles around her eyes and her voice was feeble. 

Santosh found his lips curling on their own to say yes.

This time Vasundhara’s mother came with a victorious stand. She walked in with her nose crinkled pulling two trolley bags behind herself.

“It cost you a son to realize what’s good for you,” she remarked loudly as she walked past Santosh without looking at him. He could not find a word to say against that.

Santosh started to work for longer hours.

After a few weeks Santosh walked into his house to see his child in a light green fluffy frock perched comfortably on her granny’s lap. Her granny was telling her some folk tale while feeding her a banana.

The house was clean and everything was in order. Vasundhara’s mother sure knew how to make the maid, Savitri attend to her duties properly. Santosh smiled to himself with some relief. He felt immensely grateful towards Vasundhara’s mother.

“Ma I got a nice pumpkin. Will you please teach Savitri to stir-fry it with grated coconut?” Santosh attempted to break the ice.

“Pumpkin? Why did you get pumpkin? Vasundhara doesn’t like it at all. Maybe we should give it away to Savitri.”

At this moment Vasundhara came out of the kitchen with two cups of steaming coffee. Her skin had a soft glow and her eyes were heavy from a long nap. It made her look like a cute doll.

She stopped in her steps as she saw Santosh.

“Oh! You are back? Savitri please make a cup of tea for dada,” she said aloud before settling down beside her mother.

“Mummy! Did you hear what Dalim Kumar did to slay the monster?” Lintin jumped into her mother’s arms as her granny put down the empty banana peel on a bowl and sipped in some coffee.

Santosh understood that having tea in the evening with his wife had become a thing of the past. He retreated into the bed room without another word.

As days rolled on Santosh’s distance with his wife and daughter kept on growing. Sometimes he took Lintin out on evening walks hoping to have at least one person who would value his love. Lintin ran a little ahead of her father as they entered the park.

“Look baba…I can reach the top of the climbing frame real fast!” Santosh looked up with pride as Lintin perched herself at the top and threw her arms up in air.

“She’s full of energy!” remarked an old lady.

“Yes…she takes after me,” Santosh’s eyes were shining.

“No!!! I’m like mummy.” Lintin shrieked in protest as she started to come down.

“You look like your mother. But your nature is like your father’s,” Santosh bent down and picked his daughter up.

“No way! I don’t want to be like you. I’m totally like mummy.” Lintin kept on insisting. Her eyes looked shiny with two large tear drops.

“I was joking,” Santosh said and quickly bought a chocolate to pacify his daughter. He kept the sighs to himself.

Work was the only thing that gave him solace. He got a promotion offer soon but it needed him to relocate to another city.

“I’ve been transferred to Baroda,” Santosh told Vasundhara at night.

“For how long?” she asked as she blended the moisturizer carefully into her skin.

“Indefinitely. I got promoted as well.” Santosh stated.

“Great news!!! See your hard work is taking you far!!” Vasundhara turned around and came closer to her husband with the biggest of her smiles.

Santosh’s face looked gloomy.

“Don’t worry about us, we’d manage somehow,” Vasundhara said as she hugged her husband.

She tried hard but was not able to conceal the jubilation in her voice.

Santosh did not feel the need to mention that the transfer and the promotion was an optional offer. He accepted it the next day. There was no point in pretending that this distance would be hard on anyone.

And that’s how the years had passed. To an outsider Santosh had everything, a wife who was remarkably pretty, a daughter who went on to be a successful accountant but no one knew that he was never welcome in his perfect home.

Santosh sat up and looked into his phone again. His screen had locked at the last blog post. He decided to leave a feedback for the author, Janaki.

The next day a long email was waiting for Santosh from Janaki.

“Dear sir,

Greetings from my end. I was absolutely fascinated to read your feedback. Men usually write hate mails to me. Some kind men do offer sympathy as well. But no one has ever written what you did...”

Santosh’s eyes were bright as he read the mail. Here were the words of another human being who felt that his perspective made sense.

He had only highlighted that since feminism was meant to fight for gender equality, the authors should also write about cases where men end up as victims of inequality. Santosh had gone on to add that he too had been through most of the injustices described in Janaki’s blog.

Santosh felt the verve of excitement grip him as he read the next paragraph of the email.

“…I would like to invite you to our creative writing workshop at the address given below. We can work with you to give your thoughts a platform.”

Santosh grabbed a pen and noted down the address on a piece of paper. The event was scheduled on the next day morning at his city.

He was at the venue 30 minutes ahead of time. As he snapped his fingers to kill time, Santosh saw many young people dressed in smart casuals. Some stared at him with creased eyebrows. White loose fitted pyjamas paired with a grey shawl was far from the prescribed dress code for the event.

Santosh got up after a while and proceeded to read the big white board kept at a precarious slant. The event description was written in red bold letters.

The workshop was to be coordinated by 4 women authors. The list had their pen names followed by their real names.

Santosh heartbeat spiked at the third name.

Wizardencil…Sreeparna Sen

Tamanna…Arundhati Bhattacharya

Janaki ki ghar…Leena Barua Arora

Santosh looked around nervously. There was no sign of his Lintin anywhere. Santosh and his son-in-law’s surnames had combined to give his daughter a rather unlikely surname and the chances of this being another woman were very low. He was almost sure that any moment he would see Lintin appear in front of him. Quickly Santosh walked towards the revolving glass-door at the front.

The crowd made it difficult for Santosh to weave his way. The spotless marble floor along with the shiny artificial plants presented a promise of opulence and the youngsters were busy clicking pictures with the perfect backdrop. And suddenly through the barricade of people Santosh could see strips of Leena’s car pull up in front of the lobby.

Without waiting another second he rushed to the side exit and left for home in a taxi.

Santosh spent the afternoon in his garden wondering how happy his married daughter Lintin really was in life. He got up and decided to go out for a walk when Lintin walked in unannounced.

Santosh startled involuntarily. But Lintin walked on to get herself a bottle of water. There was no trace of suspicion on her face.

“I just dropped in to say that tomorrow I’m taking mummy and you to the movies. Can you tell her to be ready at around 7pm?”

Santosh studied his daughter as she was screwing the cap of the bottle back on. A closer look revealed the fine wrinkles on her forehead. Her eyes looked absent and her skin was tired.

Lintin was spooked by the long stare and started to explain uncomfortalby, “We have Valentines Day on this weekend so I decided to celebrate the whole week. I’d take you two out one day, Jeetu’s parents one day, my friends one day and on Friday Jeetu and I are going out.”

Lintin smiled hoping for reciprocation.

Santosh was still wearing that distracted expression. There were so many things he wished he could tell her. He made an attempt finally.

“If you are hungry does it make sense to make sandwiches for 10 people and then to hope for a bite to be offered back? Wouldn’t it be much simpler if you made yourself one instead?”

“What? What do you mean baba?”

“I think you need to cancel all the plans this week and plan a holiday for just yourself instead.”

Lintin’s mouth was still open when Santosh collected his grocery bag and went out to get some vegetables. Today he would buy a nice pumpkin, just for himself.