Every dawn, even before the sun is to rise in full glory, I lie in my bed, half-awake, holding my breath, waiting to hear the jingle of your anklets. With bated breath, I anticipate your knock - ready to spring and hold the door open for you. With great difficulty I contain my squeals of joy when I actually see you in flesh and blood inside my house. And yet, sometimes, why do you do this to me? Why do you leave me in the lurch without any warning? Why do you suddenly disappear for days without leaving a message? Do you realize how fretful I become, wringing my hands, pacing the corridor and craning my neck in vain to catch a glimpse of you? Wishing and praying that maybe you just got delayed a little because of the rain. Maybe it is just a little cold bothering you – but you will still come.

I reminisce of all the things I have done for you and shared with you, of all the great times we have spent together, of how my husband – though reluctantly at first, but knowingly later – accepted that there was a being more important than him in my life, how I had seriously mulled over buying you a pager or a mobile so I can summon you the instant I felt the need for your presence near me. Was I not keeping you in a good mood and listening to your endless prattle and gossip? Was I not attending to all your small desires and whims that caught your fancy? Or was I not paying you enough and more? Do you realize that I pretend not to see your petty pilfering – just to retain you? Do you know how jealously I had been guarding you from the pesky neighbours – afraid that I would have to share your time? Do you know how many have come before you in my life and left? (None of them stay long).

My husband hesitatingly chides me – he speaks in hushed tones knowing nothing he says can be right at this moment. He waits for me to come to terms with reality, patiently herding me through stages of disbelief, anger, denial and “why me”. He offers to take me out for breakfast, lunch and  dinner. But that solves only half the problem. Finally, accepting the situation, I quickly think of alternatives that will satiate me - alternatives that will involve my ill-experienced husband. With a deep sigh, I allot him the dishes while I take charge of washing the clothes. Why do you do this to me – my dear maid servant? Just wait until you come tomorrow, I’ll show you! (You’ll come, won’t you?)

Filed under: Slice of Life