Picket Fences

Wednesday, February 01, 2006

Virtually yours

would turn out to be another endless chat session with mindless, faceless identities..
she sighed...Gitanjali.. left the Internet café...walking slowly with her bag clutched in her small hands..
her petite slender body heaving steadily by the silent sobs emanating from her throat..
it has been 7years since her husband left to his heavenly abode ..she and her son have lived humble existence
saving, living...she has tried to find a man ..like a bee trying to find a hive...so many men she met online…materialized in person...and vanished into thin air... .they send her flowers, petals, pots, printed shawls, pearls…but none, none has walked her down the aisle..
She works in a call center groggily listening to the giggles of young couples planning
their escapades.. . night and day she wonders what would come upon her on those days, when her son leaves the nest..
She doesn't understand what went wrong with Amith, he had called her umpteen times ..
was empathetic, he had sent her cards, serenaded her on line, sang old Hindi songs and almost sounded sane
but all of a sudden he had stopped...as if time stood still
why?
she probed and pondered...this was the tenth attempt at a relationship ,matrimonial columns which had offered her grooms did not do anything , men came and went as if blown away by the fall wind..
wasn't she good looking...she was short, small, feminine...had sharp features, great body, at 45 she looked in her 20's short hair, trendy , good English, what else...had all the right values hadn't abandoned her husband ,was left behind by him as a survivor.. no stigma no tags…had only one son…which is a plus in the marriage market..
Why was it that each man she met had this big fat ego...over 45 and single..
it's beyond her comprehension...they all wanted women without opinions...as soon as she started talking about finance , future, they would fizzle out…some did not like her outgoing aura…some didn’t like the fact that she likes to dance...some did not like her argumentative temperament...few she rejected…on the basis of money, status and necessity..
Some just spoke to her as time pass...fucking Indian men she fumed...they had lead her on for months…on the phone, on line, flirting, getting her emotional…making love to her thoughts...and had dropped her like a bomb...bingo...!
in the beginning when men were on line it was like an orgasm come true...flirting, dreaming, sweet talks...all so true…she fell in love one hundred times...lost track of
days and nights like an owl she would type in the dim lit room...bending down...tatatata..
all her loneliness bundled in those types...she became .. drunk...with words, sentences...strung around her neck like a garland on a wedding night...
and then…it was isolation...nothing was true...they had disappeared as fast as they came...men women...faggots...who knows…what they were...if they were human...they would know..
she had decided against marrying divorcees, she chose widowers with kids, and yet these men who had lost their wives did not look ready for another woman in their lives...
how ficklest!
Gitanjali slowly trudged on the steps opened the door lock and stepped inside the hall...her son...was watching TV all by himself…he was 12 and just like his dad..
Anirudh...handsome...smart...he had seen his dad on the deathbed in COMA...for a month...every day
"Ani did u eat?"
"yes amma"
Gitanjali...drank a glass of water and retired to her room.
what had happened to RAJ?
Raj was introduced to her by some acquaintance.. he was not a man of her dreams...buck teeth and all, was bald in few places...but she had endured him all through the evening and many days…Listening to his banter on his ex-wives and their dog poop and eating habits ..what she liked in him was his love for literature..
He knew and read everything that she knew...they could discuss endlessly on Lawrence, Aldus Huxley, and Charles Dickens....over chicken tandoori tikka and vodka..
some Sitar and Tumri..
Raj was awesome...but when it came to expressing herself on various compartments of commitment he had...in some slimy way betrayed her.
he had made her dance around his fingers, kept her waiting to hear his "yes" -fuck you, ..I am not scratching your balls..!!
Gita...cried hard on her pillows…the affair ended without a wimp...while Ani watched uncles departing and arriving like local flights on sunny days in his mom's life..
he had wished them bombed...he had almost decided to live with anything that came in pants...was male and spoke to him on those sad evenings.
Gita...looked at the ceiling fan whirling fast…throwing out specks of light...wind ..
She had just lost her last chance...Amit…Amit had come ...had met and one thing lead to another ..it was for a long time now...7 years and she was like a wasteland...parched…she hadn't changed pad this month..
Ani was in the next room...Amit had seized to exist...his calls, his voice...his online humor...his breath…smell of his perfume...white sheets…wine.
she did not have a choice being alone wasn't easy... her hands reached the drawer and pulled out the pills.
he had promised her, whispered in her ears that he would come with his ma...she knew all about his little longings…choices...his hair curled on the head...permed blond..
his mouth twisted in a smirk..
Gita...tried contacting him over the phone but he was not there, just didn’t call her back…she felt emotionally crippled and couldn't face Ani..
and holding to a broken heart with a pregnant womb wasn't easy...she had to let him know that he wasn't fair...but he wouldn't give her a chance..
she felt guilty of something untold...Ani has his dad's money...her mom will anyhow take care of him...he is another few years left to manhood...he will be just alright...
her eyes closed softly to the whirring sound of the fan..
Anirudh knocked on the door..
it was time to go to school
morning 8:30 and his amma was not awake...slowly his thuds and banging became hysterical...he went on…thud...thud…thud.............tears rolling down from his cheeks..

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