The Wee Little Tale of Sneha.

The Wee Little Tale of Sneha .


"So who will make charts for the poem? I need one chart...", questioned the second grade Hindi teacher.

Two hands immediately shot up...the other students looked at their feet or their partners...

"Sunita, Sneha...But I only need one chart..."

"Please ma'am me..."
"Ma'am I'll make it better...!"

After a bit of rumination, the teacher relented "OK both of you can make it and I'll choose the one that is better."

Sneha didn't know whether to be pleased or nervous, so she was both. Competition made her extremely unsure of herself...well, she would try anyway.

"Here Sneha, you can take the pink chart, Sunita take this yellow one. I want them tomorrow, poem with a drawing next to it...remember the supervisor and headmaster may come to class and look at the chart so make it properly.", warned the teacher ominously.


*************************************

"Daddy please!! I tried!! See those pencil marks ? I can't do it! And it has to be submitted tomorrow...the supervisor will see it and if I don't submit it, my teacher will shout at me!!", Sneha begged her father while looking beseechingly at her mother.

"You do draw well darling...", her mother said coaxingly to her husband who appeared to be melting.

"Hmmm...Ok. But what if the teacher comes to know?"

"No no...I promise I won't tell her! I'll say I made it myself! "

"Ok, give me the poem and I'll draw it. Fine way to spend a weekend. Drawing at work and at home!"

****************************************

"Ok, show me the two charts...I hope both of you got them ready? I want no excuses."

"Yes Ma'am!", Sunita and Sneha both piped up proudly.

"Ok, first Sneha show me yours and then we'll see Sunita's work."

Sneha proudly [and anxiously] unrolled her finished chart complete with poetry written neatly and the drawing of the old woman depicted in it. She may not have had the perfect features but she was good enough.

"Hmm...this is OK. Nice...You did this yourself? Or did someone help you? Children look at this...do you like it?"

"Yes ma'am...", echoed the little boys and girls in unison.

"Ma'am I did it myself!", said Sneha, coloring a little.

"OK, good ,now Sunita show me what you have made."

Sunita reluctantly opened her yellow chart towards the teacher.

"What is this Sunita?"

"Ma'am...poem."

"This is to be put up on the drawing board? In front of the supervisor and the headmaster?! I didn't give you this chart to tear and dirty with your pencil marks! And the poem writing is so small I can't even see it! Do you think anyone will be able to read it on the board? And what is this drawing? How could you submit something so shabby??"

Sunita hung her head in shame.

So did Sneha.

The yellow chart was torn at the edges, probably in the bus ride to school. The light color of the chart paper made the grubby pencil marks stand out glaringly. The poem was written in an uneven hand, the lines travelling up and down, but not in a straight line. The drawing of the woman was poorly done...by a child's hand. But they were children after all...

"Look class...See the two charts side by side? Which on is neater? more presentable? Which writing and drawing is better? Sunita's or Sneha's?", the teacher conducted an instant mini poll

"Sneha's ma'am...", the class pointed out in agreement with the teacher.

"So shabby".
Sneha watched a tear splash on the ground beneath Sunita.

Sneha's chart was immediately put up on the chartboard and the class oooh'ed and Aaah'ed over it.

Sunita's was in the large dustbin outside the class. For the rest of the day
Sunita remained silent.

******************************************

"Come on get in line...walk straight to the bus.", the prefect scolded Sneha who was the last one to leave in her class.

"Just a minute I forgot my waterbottle...my mother will shout at me.", Sneha needed to get back to class urgently while it was empty.

"Ok, but I'll be watching for you."

Sneha ran back to class, roughly unpinned the chart her father had made, from the board and rolled it. Unable to find the rubber band to hold it in place she just clutched it in her chubby little fingers and ran as fast as she could before anyone could see her and stop her.

******************************************

"Beta didn't your teacher like the chart?", Sneha's mother asked as she saw her tired and grumpy daughter walk in the front door.

"She liked it, but the other girl's chart was better...and she made it herself..."

"Oho...it's ok beta...no need to feel bad."

"No...I am just feeling hot...and hungry."

Sneha could now take her afternoon nap in peace and with a light heart.

*****************************************

Afterword : Just so you know, this is a true story [not word for word] and till this date Sneha remembers Sunita, from her ponytail to her grubby hands and most of all she remembers the teardrop that dared to fall from her lowered eyelids and her head hung in shame.

ToTaLLy TabOo Part - 5

NIMISH & RAJAT :

"Dude. I think my wife's having an affair.", mumbled Rajat.

"Why the fuck do you guys marry women if you can't be bothered to keep them happy?", yelled Nimish in the gym.

"What do you mean you guys, who else do you know who has...?", Rajat couldn't finish the sentence.

"It doesn't matter, the point is...if shes crying because of you, then you don't deserve to have her because you're not taking care of her. If she is so unhappy she is cheating on you, then it usually means you've stopped treating her the way she deserves to be treated and she is with someone else because that someone else is being nicer to her than you are.", explained Nimish now losing patience.

"What can I do now?", Rajat was nearly begging now.

"DUH. Win her back. You've done it before. Do it again. You can't stop treating her like shes special just because you're now married! Is that why you married her? So you don't have to keep up the courtship? So you've 'captured' the chick? I'm guessing there was a time she was the most important person in the world to you. God's special gift, sent to make life worth living. Isn't she anymore? Has being your 'wife' somehow made her less important? Less special somehow because she agreed to marry an ass like you? You know what, you're right, she deserves better... most Indian wives do, for that matter. ", Nimish was growing more passionate in his speech delivery by the minute.
He felt like slapping Rajat. Another asshole. Who'd rather spend time at the fucking gym than in bed with his wife. And then they complain about unfaithfulness.

"Besides, marriage is not all about providing material things for each other. Her cooking and washing your clothes or you fixing the washing machine when its acting up. ", continued Nimish.

"Oh and you know all about marriage do you? Never having been in one gives you a LOT of experience. Just like those people who have no kids but know best how to raise them...", retaliated Rajat, a bit bruised.

"No. There's a reason I don't want to get married. It's people like you. Who change so dramatically post marriage their own wives don't want to be with them any longer. Why should I drive some woman to despair? Once you get married, you take each other totally for granted. You stop holding hands or hugging or walking with your arms around each other's waists because of what society may say. You think of every tom dick and harry's flow of thought but you never once stop to think...that these little touches may mean the world to her. It's other people's cheap mindset that you care about. I've seen this happen so often....its pathetic. Grow a pair for God's sake. ", elucidated Nimish.

Rajat felt like someone had slapped him. Nimish's words struck a blow, and he felt like the air was sucked out of his very lungs. Nim may as well have been talking about him. But he couldn't help being shy. And he knew the cheap mindset of people. They'd call his wife a cheap slut! Especially these oldies. There was no way he could bear that. His girlfriend turned wife...deserved respect. One of the reasons Rajat never spoke about P to anyone of his own accord...for one thing it felt like showing off...for another...not everyone treated women with respect. ' Oh lucky dude...its been awhile since I got laid myself.' was an example for instance. He'd been serious about P from day one. Marriage serious. Not all guys were that way...they usually looked out to pass their time till their mummy chose a girl for them. At least he had had the balls to marry his girlfriend no matter what his family said. He loved her, that was all the mattered.

"Woo her dude. Its not so hard...girls...they're pretty predictable...just talk to her, show her you care...be her best friend again. That's how it started out didn't it? Figure out where you went wrong. Take her out for dates, make love, oh yeah...don't forget flowers...give her a break from housework. Get her thoughful presents.", Nimish advised trying to be helpful.

"I haven't the time to woo a girl! I work ten hours a day!", Rajat complained.

" No one's got time. You have to make time for the one's you love. Don't you WANT to make time for her? Or you can just sit and watch her leave you. physically or emotionally. Speaking of which...when was the last time you made love? I mean really made love. Not wham bam Thank you Ma'am. Or took her out for a movie? Or dinner? you just let life get to you. You'd rather sit and sweat in the gym when you could be burning 300 odd calories in an hour in bed with your wife? Are you demented? Or just ignorant?", continued Nim.

"Food for thought. It's not that I don't want to make love. We used to be very passionate...I just don't know when...why...we drifted apart. We're always tired. And now...I don't dare. I don't want...I haven't looked into her eyes, directly, for a great many months. I'm scared.", mused Rajat loudly.

"Scared...or guilty? You don't want to see anger, or accusation or...indifference. But you have to look into her eyes...bearing love. The more love you give someone, unconditionally, the more love you recieve inevitably. One of the reasons I'm guessing people get married is because there will be that one person, at the very least, in this big, bad. often unfair and unkind world... who is there for us, who will protect us and not just physically, at any given time from the hard knocks life has to offer. You have to be there to make sure she's well supported. No matter how angry or upset you may be yourself...isn't that how the one's we love are different from the other general population?"

"Hmm...But what if she cries ALL the Live Long Day!!??", grumbled Rajat. "Then you talk to her. Find out why, find out what's bothering her. Take her to a psychiatrist...get some counselling. Depression is not a small thing, nor is it untreatable. But medications alone will not help. She'll need a lot of TLC. That part is upto you. ", Nimish gently counselled.

Depression was an up and coming illness, unfortunately it was quite taboo as it required going to a psychiatrist. But the treatments these days were good. He knew because after his father's death, his mother suffered from severe depression. Today she was hale and hearty...and as happy as it was possible to be, without one's heart, that is.

"TLC?", queried Rajat...feeling supremely ignorant. "Tender, Loving Care.", elaborated Nimish.

"But what about the other guy?", Rajat asked, plucking up the courage.

"What about him? What's he done? Treated your wife better than you have? Is that so bad?", asked Nimish...now wary. And slightly guilty.

"If I knew who he was, I'd kill him. He stole my wife from me!!! And you're defending him?", asked Rajat, temper flaring.

"No. I'm not. But if he reached out to a woman in intense pain, if he is alleviating her grief, if he is making her realise she was indeed special, if he could bring a smile to her face and a twinkle in her eyes, if he is the reason for the spring in her step, the one who never lets a teardrop fall from her eyes, if he's the one doing all the little yet the most important things one human being can do for another...all the things YOU should never have stopped doing, can you hate him? If you truly love your wife, can you hate the one person who is a ray of sunshine in her otherwise bleak world?", Nimish justified, a bit guilty.

He felt sorry for Rajat...but knowing him, he could imagine how both he and his wife must be feeling. He wished Rajat well and hoped he would take heed now, sooner rather than later.

Meanwhile...

TLC it would be...Rajat promised himself.

Totally TaBoO Part-4

RAJAT :

The night Rajat came home and found Preksha missing was easily the scariest night of his life. There was no note, no indication of where she may have been. All he could find was a glass of half finished booze and a couple of sleeping pills. He rushed to the telephone and pressed redial. It was answered by the nurse on casualty duty at the nearby hospital. He asked if Preksha was there...and rushed over.

"Shes ok, she'll live, but shes shaken. We had to pump her stomach and that is a very stressful procedure, not just for the stomach. She'll be a bit woozy from whatever pills have taken effect but she will be fine eventually. All she needs is TLC. That and time and rest. And probably...a..um...Psychiatry consult...No need to think of it as a Taboo...," The Doctor rushed to explain seeing the mildly shocked expression on Rajat's face. " Sometimes we have problems and feelings we cannot deal with...if there's someone, who is far more experienced than ourselves, who can help us with our problems...its smart to get help. ", continued the Doctor.

TLC? What was that? It was probably on the prescription pad...the chemist would know for sure. He took Preksha home. They never talked about it. He didn't ask why and she didn't offer an explanation. He wasn't sure he wanted to know. She had stop thinking of him as her best friend long ago.

The next day she seemed cheerful. Neater, cleaner, more like her old self.

He always felt she was unhappy because of him. He spent one year trying to get her to fall in love with him...He always wondered if she felt she'd compromised in choosing him as a mate. She was so much better than him in so many ways. The day he convinced her to marry him, seemed like the best day of his life...correction, the day she married him was the best, he felt he could rest easy now. Breathe, heave a sigh of relief. Be himself...and not the modern version of Romeo that he'd become. He loved her, now they were together and wouldn't be apart for the next seven lifetimes...and if they kept repeating the same vows then for the rest of their rebirths! Ha!

He was not a romantically expressive guy. She was his first girlfriend. And his last. He was not unfaithful to her. He really loved her with all his heart. He just didn't know how to show it in any new ways anymore. He was all for giving her beautiful flowers, taking her on dates, making love till they were exhausted and couldn't keep their eyes open and their bodies were limp and relaxed...He did all he could to make her happy. But sometimes when they were out in public, and she took his hand, or linked her arm through his, he was uncomfortable. You never knew who would be watching. When they were in a group too, he never sat close to her, or touched her in anyway, or talked to her in a way that could be considered anything but friendly. No hint of the passion they shared in bed. It always upset her. She didn't understand his reticence. His extreme shyness. He wasn't half as bold as she was. Besides, what was the need to show the world what they meant to one another? What did the world care anyway? It didn't make a difference to him what couples world over were doing to each other in public.

Things changed after marriage. Managing a job, the house, their life...family...all got to him at the end of the day when he felt exhausted. And unable to stomach her statements of loneliness. Not that she mentioned it to him anymore. What was to be lonely about...? He hadn't gone anywhere had he? He wasn't leaving her for someone else, he wasn't cheating on her, he managed their finances well, he didn't curb her or restrict her in any way, certainly he didn't hit her! What did she want? He sometimes felt he had failed her. If it wasn't for the fact that he knew how big she was on integrity, he'd be worried about her leaving him.

She was a good wife. No doubt. Attentive to his every little need. Cooking food as per his tastes, tolerating his fussy nature, packing his tiffin. He had never asked her if she took a tiffin to work. He had no idea. She took care of his clothes, his family and his home. Of him. Laid out his clothes everyday for work, his shorts when he came home. Gave him his meds when he was sick, made his chicken soup when he had a cold, wiped his nose, cleaned his vomit. He brought home the groceries, the vegetables, set the table for dinner, helped with the cleaning, They had an equal marriage. The zing, the passion had diminished.

Didn't that happen eventually anyway? In any marriage?

He often worked weekends too and in any case, she was always either asleep or in the bathroom. He yearned for her touch, but now, sometimes, he was afraid of her. He was worried of touching her, only to see...withdrawal. He seemed to have caused too much pain. Let too many tears fall without making an effort to wipe them off. It was her, all her, why did she cry so damn much? Her tears caused him unbearable pain initially, but later...now...they only annoyed him. His heart seemed to have gone cold. There was a time when he heard her cry, he cried too. He used to catch her tears before they fell.

Now he just ignored them. Ignored her.

Of course he did hate himself later. For a bit. A short bit. What was the point then anyway? His harshness would only aggravate her sadness. He never knew the right thing to say at the right time. If you can't help something, don't aggravate it.

Of late she was happy. She was cheerful, even though he didn't get to see much of it being busy at work and even on weekends.

There were flowers at home. He didn't get them. She said she bought them to add a dash of colour to the house.

She hummed.

Rajat knew it wasn't him.

Was he losing her?

To whom?

Did it even matter? The whom? The where, when, how many times... what difference did it make anymore?

It was the why, that needed looking into.

He thought she couldn't live without him. turned out she had started a whole new life without him. She would leave him, not only far behind but for good. Could he live without her?

He hadn't considered it so far. Should he?

Could he win her back?