Captured!

"I wish I could capture you!"

That was all he’d say. Always. Ours was a love marriage. With our parents consent, we were what you'd call "the perfect start & end". How ironic!! I now think.

Bharat was a photographer, & I, Sukanya, a journalist. We both were struggling when we got married. Our parents trusted our relationship, & we were lucky our capabilities were never doubted.

Back then, we didn't have a car, or a bike. We had a fridge, no ACs or coolers, the fans would suffice. One landline, mobiles could wait. We couldn’t afford anything more. My diabetes & hypertension dint make things any easier for the monthly budget.

Amidst all these, a blissful year passed. We couldn’t think of kids, not yet. We weren’t ready to support a family, economically. We decided to wait.

We couldn't think about kids, we couldn't support a family yet. So we decided to wait.
No matter how silent the wait might have been, our eyes could never fool the other about the impatient sobs that tricked and escaped us.

That night, we had been out to our favorite restaurant to celebrate the day he proposed me. He was fooling around with his cam, taking random pictures of the place. I was fiddling with my sari, adjusting my pallu yet again & he said “Can I ever capture that moment as beautifully?”

“Me struggling with my sari?”

“Yes”

“I don’t think you are quite the romantic you used to be”

“What makes you think the picture wouldn’t be romantic?”

“Not one who sees that picture loves me, do you know that?”

“You don’t even know what you talk, Suku”

“Some day mister, you ought to really make me understand how the portrait of an uncomfortable wife in a heavily zari-ed sari could spell romance”

He was pissed off, we left the conversation there, had our dinner & left.

3 years later, both of us are doing pretty well in our chosen professions. Today, we have a car, AC, and yes, we can afford mobile phones too. We made it through the hard way. There were times, when I used to feel frustrated; & there he was, taking in all my anger silently. It irritated me that he dint speak back to me, enraged me all the more not to have him respond to the passionate anger in me in the spur of that heated moment. He radiated love, and nothing else. All through this, he knew I’d never speak what I had buried in me, a wasted dream that was never spoken of. And one day, Bharat just screamed back. I responded with all the fury I had in me, my voice soaring in the air. It went on & forth. The fight lasted an hour or two, or maybe more, I would never know. By the end of it, I resigned to the floor for support, with a shrill cry cutting across the hall, “I need a child Bharat. I want to be a mother”. I sobbed hard.

“Whatever you say baby, whatever” saying that Bharat found his way to the study.

 2 years later.

"You're pregnant."

The gynaec confirmed. Our joys knew no bounds. I knew I could support a child now, I knew I could finally have a family.

It won’t be just the two of us, it won’t be just the quiet dinner with the two of us in a huge house, it won’t be the just the sounds of the television with Bharat happily switching channels, it won’t be the spot clean house anymore – but a complete family now. A family, where our child would mess the neatly made beds, shout, make noise, and break things. That would be our home with all the normalcy put together.

Bharat worked until the 5^th month of my pregnancy & then took a sabbatical from work. Yes, we could now afford to take leaves, long leaves at that. But I kept nagging Bharat not to waste his leaves.

“Suku, it’s not like I need to do this, I want to do this. I want to take care of you. Would you please let me?”

A tear escaped my eye & my smile was enough a reply to his question.

To say that Bharat took care of me would not do justice to the 4months of his dedication & hard work. I was all that he saw, breathed, cared about. My whims & fancies were fulfilled even before I could utter a word or call out to him. He knew what I wanted, more importantly he knew I needed him. I thoroughly enjoyed being the apple of his eye. I now know what that phrase actually means.

The 4 months just slipped away in a wink and a day before my expected due-date, I went into labor. Pain tore me in & out, I felt like a mad woman chained. I could feel the pain rip me through. Everything in my body seemed to coax me into unconsciousness. I wanted to give up; I felt I’d die if that were an option. I clearly remember Bharat running alongside my stretcher, all the while chanting “You’ll be fine. We’ll all be fine, Suku, I’m right next to you”. In spite of all the pain, suddenly the cherished moments in those last 4 months flashed through my mind. I was overwhelmed though the pain agitated me.

Some time during the delivery, the gynaec told Bharat that the situation was critical. Bharat gave her a frantic look; a tear glistened in the corner of his eye. He looked in my direction, smiled reassuring me that all is fine.

I knew it wasn’t. The mother in me knew.

And then I heard a child’s cry, I saw the beautiful pink bundle. I smiled, sighed to Bharat “I wish you could capture me”

Life, sometimes, listens to us at the wrong time. It heard me when I said “I’d die if that were an option” & foolishly just granted my wish. Today, when I look down at Bharat I see him loving our daughter with all his life. Hopefully he’s understood that life’s unfair only when we wish it ourselves.

I smile when I look at the huge portrait picture he’s put up in our bedroom. You guessed it right, the very same picture with me struggling in a sari at our favorite restaurant. He proved me wrong. It indeed is very romantic.

I’m up here guys. Late realization. A little too late.

So watch what you say, what message the air carries away from you, what the walls hear – life might be listening.