Monday, 24 November 2014

Desolate Wedlock

As she sat down to write, the clock showed 11:15 PM. Another day passed by. Behind her, the Television set was on, and the news anchor like every other day was shouting at the top of his voice, trying to prove a point. It was stopping her, distracting her from writing. She had already missed the deadline by a week. She could not afford to delay it any further.

She turned and said, "Can you please lower the volume of the television set. I have to finish this by tonight and submit it tomorrow."

And then she turned back, staring at the computer screen.

"I thought you are done with that," he said as he lowered the volume.

"I was supposed to; I could not. I had work at office."

"You ask me every day to lower the volume, I thought you are done with it for good."

"I will be if you let me finish it." There was a touch of frustration in her voice, as she tackled between the conversation and the manuscript. Her mind was wandering from one place to another, but not where it should have been.

He sensed that he should not have said anything. He shut the Television set and went and sat at the corner of the room. He lit up the penultimate cigarette and stared at her. He wondered whether he should approach and speak to her and assure her that things will be okay. But he was not sure whether things were okay.

A lot had changed in the last ten years. But he could not stay silent for long either. Lying on his grandfather's easy chair, he looked out of the window, keeping his eye contact away from her, and said, "You know that your publisher always gives you a grace period of one month? And you have only a chapter to finish. You could take some time off, may be take a weekend off and then come back and continue."

She felt good that he said something, but she was irritated that he interfered in her private world. When they decided to get married, these were the small things that they decided they won't do — interfere in each other's professional life, advice on work and career or even fashion. They loved the way they were since their teenage years.

However, being in love and being married were different.

"You know I can handle this stuff. I have been handling for a long time now. Besides, sitting on a chair, passing comments won't help me finish my work. It will distract me and delay the submission."

'I should not have said such stuff. I should not have spoken to him like that,' she thought.

Somewhat not taken aback or surprised by her reply, he got up, threw away the cigarette, and said, "Well, I should have known that I am speaking to a best-selling author and not my wife right now. Please continue. I shall call it a day, then... Oops night." And he walked away, into the other room.

She could not write anymore. Too many things had changed in the last ten years. Whatever may have been the reasons, they had changed, and it is not that they did not know that they had changed. However, what might have disturbed her is the fact, that they had decided no matter how deep and bad the situation would be between them, they would solve it. But, now they are like any other couple and her life is exactly turning into like the one's she write about, she is turning into one of her characters.

'Are the stories based on real-life incidents? Are they inspired from personal experiences? Do you look at your own life, when you write them?'

She remembered all the questions that the reporters would ask her. Probably this time, she would reply, 'Maybe yes, or maybe I have started turning into one of my characters.'

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