The kettle of warm milk

She was gone. Yes I knew it when I woke up. Her closet was open which she usually takes enough care to shut. The lights of the porch were still on. I shrugged my head in disapproval. It was hardly anything. It was silly. I know it was silly. You know how these things end up. It was nothing, and frankly, I don’t remember what it was. One thing led to another. I ignored. She said I do not even make an attempt at it; an attempt at understanding her. A shout here and higher decibel in return, that’s how a nuclear chain breaks open. I knew she was gone to her mum’s place; she left the milk hot in the kettle for me. She thinks I can’t manage a cup of milk in her absence?




The loop in my head has already been sparked. What exactly had I said? All those uttered in the higher decibels… What was that mess about? I can see the clutter again. The traffic is uncannily chaotic at the square before the work and the air-conditioning hardly can be passed as efficient.



The car right behind has been driving me insane, it just wont stop honking. Swearing released it, my frustration. It does. And I get it back from him, in stares. It hardly makes sense. There’s my left and I park the car. While in the confusion her bitter words from last year come back haunting. She always ends up doing it.



It happened last year as well when she claimed I did not understand her. I did not understand what that meant. “Well then it’s better as your mother understands you better.” She packed right away. It was about the usual finances. She always ends up cribbing about it. It was my personal savings that I’d been throwing away as she said. I wasn’t disturbing the home savings, my contribution, or anything that would disturb our system. The loan EMIs are paid in time. The ration works well, there are savings in a good account, and she has her purse. Do I not have this much liberty? For which she says she’s concerned for me. I dashed out rolled my car out and the house was abandoned. There was not much love left anyway.



A tiring excel has caught me at work, as the images from last year flash in my head. There’s hardly any love anywhere. Neither bosses have for their subordinates, nor employees for their bosses. You don’t talk of love there, but right over my laptop I can see the little mutual respect too evaporating. Love? What love for liberty? No one is free in this free world to take a step as one would wish to. Neither men can go about as they fancied nor women can tread as they wished. Newspapers are evidence. Leave alone love, there is no respect for God sake. And God, He causes much of mutual respect among mortals down the drain. I’d dashed towards my car and I dashed it in the compound wall. She was gone for good two months then. We wanted our liberty.



The day is drudging by with complaints, carps and cavils. What our liberty was to us. Whoa! That bottle of scotch and no tab on it, she wasn’t at home. Oh and I smoked like a chimney. It was my freedom to be the way I wanted to be without being nagged for little correctness here and little correctness there. I hated my job anyway, and they relieved me. I sat home with more cricket, more bottles and more smoke.



It’s disgusting to see you they’re shouting over a piece of paper and I feel so gutted. It’s nothing less of a sarkari daftar. My files keep piling and the laborious excel is getting on to my nerve.

Jaitley then began to intrude and took her space. “Stop smoking, would you?” I started hating him. I was free to do so. It went on for quite some time. I loved my independence.



And Jaitley walks by, done for the day. “Aye, where are you lost? Get going chap.” He gave his wonderful beam, bright as ever. I look on. I look at him. He pauses and up goes his right eyebrow for a passing second. His lips start stretching again, faintly and nicely. I still look at him, I look on.

It pulled me back to the present. Jaitley had intruded then only to take me to the hospital. It was all ending there. The house was in a mess, she’d gone forever, my lungs threatened to leave too, I lost my job and I lost my passion. I’d gained my space and time. He did it again; Jaitley, just with his pleasantness. Gathering myself back, I laugh at my state, shut the bugging laptop and dart out. A sudden sense of ecstasy is taking me in. Children run out of school as the day ends, I run to be the first one in the elevator and drive out. May be am wrong but I see a couple of them laugh and smile as they see me race, see me grinning.



She works only a few blocks away. The race is to catch her before she leaves. No, I do not need roses, nor do I need solitaires. I need me to be there. I’d lost her and much, that included my mother, to my freedom last year. She lost her five month heavy tummy to it. I rather smile away last night, and accelerate.



The euphoria of a free road when you want it the most. The spiral inverted and my joy starts compounding. Down there as I wait in the car, with my pounding heart my cheeks are laboriously managing to keep the fine file of thirty two whites concealed. And there she’s walking out, her eyes fixed on the car. Oh! Such peculiar of her; she tosses her head and gently breaks open into a smile. I love it each time; for it takes time to get that glint in her eye. I know her. I understood her, and should have right in the morning at that kettle of hot milk.