The SwingA Story by hardeep sabharwal
The Swing
Some thirty years have passed, just passed year after year in this married life. If everything is measured in terms of success and failure their marriage was a failure. Still, though they remained together, there was little feeling for each other, no real heart attachment. They lived together because they had no other choice. Divorce was an alien word to them. For them, it was a thing that happens across the seas in countries of white people. For her, marriage is a life long relationship; as you can't change your father, mother or siblings, you can't change husband. In her mind, only s***s can think that way; she could not imagine even it. Truth of their relationship was not a well known fact in their circles " not exactly. Everyone thought that they were perfect couple, made for each other. Always together, they attended every function, every party, every ceremony with their families, friends or social circle, as most happily couples do. Not even their closest family or friends ever sensed something unusual in their life. Surprisingly, even both of them often felt everything was fine, she felt thought it was his nature and he believed all other couples were like them. When he was young, he had aspirations, goals to achieve something different in life. He wanted to work in something socially important, some pious career. He did not want to marry. On that day his father told him about alliances for his marriage he told his father, "I don't want to marry." "You don't want to marry!" he laughed but more shocked, "Then what you do you want to do if you don’t want marriage?" In his father's opinion marriage was the ultimate necessity of life and, for every person, marriage was obligatory. "I want to devote my life to service,” Janardan, said to his father. His father replied, "Marrying to a girl is the biggest social service you can do, hahaha." His father gave his verdict. And that was an age especially in his circles when children do not disobey parents especially in such decisions. He might choose which shirt to wear, dish to eat or movie to see. But Janardan believed he could not how he would live his life. However, he was not forced to marry with Abha . After considering so many alliances, with his consent, his parents selected her for him and they married. She was a beautiful girl, far more beautiful than he. No one of his acquaintance had a wife who could compete with her beauty. Moreover, she was humble, without ego and never demanding. Still, she seemed as ordinary women: interested only in households, saris and kitchen gossip. To her, television and newspapers were only to see new trends in fashion, or to read and see Bollywood news. She seemed to have no aims or goals beyond this. She had no interest in what Stephen Hawkins’ discoveries, such as the knowledge that after millions upon millions of years, the sun will die. She seemed uninterested to know why after so many years of Independence that poverty persists in India. He never heard her consider what possible ways to educate the poor and Dalits of India. Such lofty issues seemed worthless to Abha. Janardan had come to feel his marriage was his biggest mistake, but could not see how nothing might be done. This made him judgmental and dissatisfied. He began niggling in her work or ways of working. At first, Abha tried to change herself and her ways. She soon realized it made no difference in how he treated her. She lapsed and returned to her original ways. They never quarreled " most couples they knew quarreled. The closest to disagreement they came might be, Abha asking, "What will I cook today?" Janardan might reply, ”What ever you like.” Then, after a while, he might ask, “What's in dinner today?” “Brinjals,” Abha might reply. Janardan might complain, “Brinjals? Can you not find any else thing to cook?” “Why? What's wrong with brinjals? And, I did ask you earlier what you wanted,” might be the snarkiest Abha will muster as a rejoinder. "Hmm, OK,” Janardan might respond with dissatisfaction. So their life together passed. Abha gave birth to two daughters. The children became a bond between she and Janardan. Abha had a strong will, but never complained anything, not even once. As we all know, we become comfortable in our own life style so that we aren’t willing to change the habitual of life we live. Being together, living their married life became their comfortable habit. Though, sometimes, she felt: I am not so perfect for him; he deserved someone more educated… more enlightened than me. Janardan, on the other hand, many a times felt she deserved a better husband and more credit for all she does. When, last week and quite suddenly Abha complained of chest pains, almost fainting, Janardan rushed her to the hospital; the doctor said she’d suffered a mild heart attack. Alisha, their elder daughter who lived in the same city, came right away to manage everything. When, a week later, Alisha was going back to her own home, she made a diet chart and time table detailing what Abha needed to eat or do and when. Alisha especially pressured both of them to take a light walk every morning and promised to telephone and remind them each day. The first day, even after the years of going every where together without any other company, Janardan and Abha walked in awkward silence together, like two strangers. They walked side by side, wrapped in a silence of years. They reached in a garden. It was such a charming morning, they mutually decided to sit on a bench to rest. Very near them Janardan saw a swing. Suddenly, he was taken with a wish to swing on one. It reminded him of his childhood; then, he’d felt like flying when he played on swings. However, when he was a youth, it was almost a forbidden game for him. In the view of society, swings are for little kids and young girls. Men do not sit on swings. Two more eyes were also gazing longingly upon those swings. At her core, Abha felt so lonely that she wished to fly away. All her life she faced restrictions: In her father’s house, everything was pre-ordained and regimented " laugh slowly… walk gracefully… don't do this… never do that… etc, ad nauseam. All activity was ordered like an alphabet of life… everything was pre-planned or arranged. Then, she was married. Though there were few such restrictions on her in her husband's household, there was also no real freedom. No one had stopped her from anything… Yet, no one had ever allowed her anything " not even she had allowed herself anything. In that moment, Janardan saw Abha… he saw her and read her eyes for the first time in their life together. She, for her part, realized he was watching those swings with a child's ecstasy and the obvious contemplations similar to her own. His eyes alight, he asked, “Would you like to sit on those swings?” “Me?” She replied hesitantly. “People will say this Granny has gone mad.” “Which people?” Janardan looked around, a tentative smile on his lips. Children were playing; young girls and boys were jogging; everyone was so busy in their own life that none noticed an old man and old lady sitting silently on a bench. He held her hand, for first time in his marriage… he held her hand and gently but firmly led her to the swings. Each on a swing and started playing and laughing together. Everyone in the garden now was looking at them. For children, it was a strange thing, perhaps funny that an old couple was swinging. A young lady whispered in her lover's ears, " When we’re old, will you love me like as this old man loves his wife?" Her lover replied with youthful nonchalance, “Of course, baby!” Everyone nearby in the garden turned their eyes toward the old couple. It seemed even the flowers were watching Abha and Janardan. But, finally, at long last, they were truly together, immune to the notice of others. They stood and walked on together, lost in themselves sharing the memories of childhood, as the glacier of thirty years between them has melted. © 2016 hardeep sabharwalFeatured Review
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7 Reviews Added on February 5, 2016 Last Updated on March 16, 2016 Authorhardeep sabharwalpatiala , punjab , IndiaAboutHardeep Sabharwal describes himself as person of few words. He is one of millions of middle class Indians who do not have any ideology; they only want to live a peaceful life. The thing that hurts him.. more..Writing
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