THE ETERNAL WAIT

She decided to wait for him on the porch of her house, this time with a smile on her face.

Thinking of the fight they had, and he left the house fuming with fury, she felt she shouldn’t have harped on the subject.


After all, he was working like a Trojan to eke out his and his family’s living. He would wake up much earlier before her, drink tea and would head towards the farm. The farm was not a very big one. Only used for the cultivation of maize. He would sweat out every day and come back home only for lunch and dinner. The family usually didn’t have their breakfast since they couldn’t afford this luxury. Nowadays even eating two squared meals was becoming impossible. It wasn’t easy keeping the stomachs of six people fed. It would hurt a lot seeing her four children sleep without food. They wouldn’t even ask for it. Maybe they understood that their father couldn’t afford the privileges.


Water and clothing were extreme scarcity. She always used to tell him to work harder, take loans from the zamindars so that at least he could buy some tools for cultivation or ask them to provide water. Even the laborers had to be paid. He declined every time telling her if there is no enough production how will he repay his debts. But she told him to have a positive attitude and head towards the step. He did. He took loans, machinery, and cattle to help him. The rains never showed up despite his fervent litanies.

She always lamented about why the hell she married him coz she had turned down some really good marriage offers for him. He always reciprocated by,”why don’t you leave me and marry someone else?” .She would reply, who will take care of these four children. He would be speechless. His children were his greatest concern.

This time however the production was almost negligible compared to the last year, making him sink into already heavy debts that needed to be repaid. This day he came home looking very frustrated. She had cooked only dal for him. When he saw it he made a reluctant face and asked whether she couldn’t have made anything better. Her eyes devilish, she answered- bring some more money in the house and then tell me to cook dinner like raja-maharaja style. With the money you bring in the house it is impossible even to cook this dal for you. I already have sold all the jewellery I possessed. What more do you expect? Saying that she threw the dal on the floor.

Seeing her seething with rage he put on his slippers to go out. Where are you going now, she asked. That doesn’t concern you, he replied without looking at her. She didn’t care.

After that she realized she shouldn’t have behaved this way. He comes home to find solace and I treat him like some servant. She carefully opened the tin of bajra flour and made aromatic rotis and served them with ghee and mango pickle even though those were the last things that had filled her tins.
She decided to wait for him on the porch, this time with a smile on her face. Two men came running towards her. She recognized them as the laborers who worked in his field. They said, “he suicided. The police found his body near the village tank.”