| |
––––––––
Amit and Smriti got inside a cyan coloured Tata Indigo operated by Meru cabs from Pitampura. Smriti’s face was flushed, her eyes were filling up and she was fighting hard to prevent herself from breaking down.
“What’s the matter?” Amit couldn’t help asking.
Smriti didn’t reply. The cab started moving towards Greater Kailash, in South Delhi, where she stayed. Suddenly, tears started to roll down Smriti’s cheeks.
“Mom’s not well again,” she said wiping her tears.
“I’m so sorry to hear that,” he said.
“Rheumatoid Arthritis,” Smriti said.
“Mom was diagnosed with Rheumatoid Arthritis a couple of years back,” she explained noticing Amit’s confusion.
He listened quietly.
“It is an auto immune disease that affects her joints. My mother’s arms and feet pain and swell so much that she is unable to handle even simple tasks like turning a door knob or opening a jar. Sometimes she even suffers from low grade fever. Today is one such bad day for her,” Smriti explained.
“Her condition has been worsening. We fear that RA might damage her arms and feet permanently. She is also in so much of pain,” she added.
“Nothing will happen to her. Have faith in yourself,” Amit didn’t know what else to say.
“This is not the only problem in my life,” Smriti was going on.
“My father used to run a small store near our flat. His business wasn’t doing too well. So he took a loan to renovate the shop on modern lines. But the sales remained flat and now he has run into financial difficulties. Ever since I joined Singhania & Co, I have been paying off a portion of his debt to keep his business afloat,” she said.
“You have been very brave,” Amit muttered, wondering at the same time how can anyone in the world share so much of personal information with a stranger the first day that they meet.
“Ours is a joint family and my brother and his wife also stay with us in Greater Kailash. My brother unfortunately lost his job a couple of months back. So currently, I am the only bread winner in the family.”
“Whatever is left of my salary goes into paying the bills—rent, water, gas and electricity,” Smriti said.
Amit felt bad for her. There was no doubt in his mind that Smriti was going through a tough time.
When the cab entered Greater Kailash, Smriti noticed a Pharmacist.
“Stop. I need to buy some medicines for my mother. But I am not carrying my wallet. What should we do?” she asked.
Amit didn’t know what to say.
“We can do one thing. I can ask the cab driver to take me to my place. I will go up to my flat, get some cash and we can then go to the Pharmacist,” she suggested.
“No, it’s fine. I have some cash. You need not worry,” Amit couldn’t help but act like a gentleman again.
The cab stopped near the Pharmacist. Both Amit and Smriti got down. She asked for a few leaves of Methotrexate, a common drug, which is used in the treatment of RA. The Pharmacist handed over the strips to her and Amit paid the cash to the Pharmacist.
“You don’t need to do all this,” Smriti thanked Amit.
“It’s nothing. I’m glad I was of some help,” Amit responded.
Both got back into the cab and the driver dropped Smriti at her place first and then dropped Amit at his residence in Jor Bagh. Amit had to again pay off the driver, which emptied his wallet completely.
Meanwhile Smriti had climbed up the staircase to the first floor and rang the doorbell. Her bhabhi, the sister-in-law, opened the door.
“Mom’s not well. Hurry up. Come inside,” said the sis-in-law.
Smriti rushed straight to her mother’s bedroom through a small corridor. An old lady in her sixties was lying on the bed wearing a brown coloured sari. Her hair was dyed red with henna. She was obviously in a lot of agony.
Smriti came near her bedside and touched her forehead with her palm. It did seem warmer than usual. Obviously, mom was suffering from low grade fever again.
“Mom I bought your medicine from the market,” Smriti started the conversation.
“My poor darling. And how much did you spend on it?” asked her mother solicitously.
“Nothing. I told my colleague Amit that I wasn’t carrying my wallet today. So he paid for this all. Amit Verma is the new guy who has joined our firm to assist me,” she said.
“This new guy didn’t mind paying?” queried her mother.
“No, he actually called it as a token of good gesture,” Smriti was now smiling a little.
“That’s very good, my little girl. I’m glad you saved some money today for the family. In any case, you are the boss and this new guy is your subordinate. He should pay for everything, not you,” said her mother.
Smriti nodded in agreement.
“And always remember one thing. In our Jain community, it is the men who always pay. So don’t feel bad at not spending anything,” her mother advised.
“Let me go to the kitchen and cook some Karhi for you mom,” Smriti said. She could see her mother shiver at the thought, but being yoghurt-based, Smriti knew that Karhi was good for her mom’s digestion.
Smriti got up and moved towards the kitchen. Life was not fair to her, she thought. She thought at the number of arranged marriage proposals from prospective men in her community that she had to turn down, because all of them wanted her to chuck up her job and sit at home.
Women in her community were not expected to go to office and interact with strangers. That all was only a man’s prerogative. Women were caregivers, nurturers and home-makers and Smriti was also expected to become one after marriage.
The few men she met also didn’t like the fact that she was earning a higher salary than they were. That appeared to make them even more determined to insist that Smriti gives up her job after marriage. Smriti was thus left between choosing a good job and a happily married life, and she always chose her job, her independence.
Yet Smriti couldn’t help but blame her fate. She was forced to take the responsibilities of both men and women. Daughters look after their mothers; so she did that. Sons handle their father’s business. But she was doing that as well.
Where was the independence she had dreamt of? Could she escape her destiny? She loved her mother dearly. She couldn’t also bear to see tears in her father’s eyes. It was her cross to bear then to look after both of them.
At the workplace, she had to prove that she was as good as any other man. As committed. As loyal. She had spent five years in the firm trying to do just that.
Yet she watched others happily promoted in four years’ time while she was eagerly waiting for her turn. Was this fair? Was she not good enough? No matter how hard she tried, she was always ignored when it came to promotions at the end of the year.
At times she envied other women in the firm, the women who called themselves empowered. They openly bragged that they earned for themselves and didn’t mind splurging it all on themselves. Smriti, on the other hand, had hardly any money left at the end of the month to enjoy herself.
What did these other women know about want and misery? Those women also had no problems finding attractive boyfriends while she struggled to find her own ‘Prince-Charming’. Smriti occasionally wondered how cruel fate could be.
Smriti firmly believed that her ‘Prince-Charming’ would come one day and will lift her up from her morass. But she never wanted to abandon her mother and her father, and hoped that her ‘Prince-Charming’ would understand that. He will empathise with the sacrifices she had to make.
Usually, a woman leaves her home to join her husband when she is married. But Smriti never wanted to leave her family like that. Her ‘Prince-Charming’ would never let her do that. He would instead happily move in and live with her family.
He would love her mother as much as she does. He would love her father equally. He would help pay off her father’s debt. He would gladly buy medicines for her mother and help Smriti look after her.
He’d love her more than any other man loves his wife. She would have a great time with him. She will also then have enough money to spend on herself. She could buy her favourite clothes or jewellery without thinking twice.
Was that asking for too much? Smriti didn’t care. She had made lots of sacrifices in her life. Her ‘Prince-Charming’ too should then be prepared to make some compromises for her happiness. Why is that only women need to make sacrifices? Why not the same standards are applied to men, Smriti wondered.
While working in the kitchen, Smriti enjoyed fantasising about her ‘Prince-Charming’. And that night only one image came to her mind.
