Friday, November 20, 2009

I had written this story in college as a part of an assignment.Read it after long a time today and thought of sharing  with you all  - 

It is commonly said that life has few surprises to offer as and when one grows in age.The same could be said for the old couple, Mr. and Mrs. Roy.The weeks, months and years comprised for them the same days, repeating themselves over and over again with little or no variation. Mr. Roy, a retired government officer, was known to be an upright man and lived by his own clock.He would take a cup of tea  sharp at 5 in the morning, then a stroll in the lonely streets of the yet to rise neighbourhood.The newspaper, which he read with alternating expressions of disgust and disapproval, would then occupy the first half of the day.

Day would slip into noon and lunch would be followed by a siesta, sharp at 4 p.m. there would be a knock at the door, which would be attended by Mrs. Roy to let in a neighbouring friend. The two would talk for a couple of hours but then what shall they talk about, there was nothing pleasant to talk of. The Government seemed to be heading nowhere with the Minimum Needs Programme, the Nuke Deal was a recipe for disaster, the economic policies were no good. The leaders didn’t know how to take India- a nation where a large chunk of the population lived from hand to mouth - to progress. Mr. Roy too had lived in those strained circumstances for the better part of his life but then he knew how to fit in his needs within his income and managed to send his only son to a convent school and then to a nationally recognized medical college.Yes, that was the only pleasant thing to talk about.
It would be during this  procession of conversation that Mrs. Roy would walk in with tea and snacks, and the neighbour would compliment her for the variety she cooked, she never repeated the same snack in a month.That was a compliment indeed for Mrs. Roy, who cooked with all her heart and soul. Kitchen was her sacred space and even before the sun could steal a look at earth she would  be there cleaning her sacred space and making tea for her husband.

Serving meal to Mr. Roy was was the most priced thing for her, she would look at him as he would eat the meal quietly.He never asked for more and she never forced him to take more.It was this unexpressed contentment that she cherished all day.
Beside this Mrs. Roy would stitch clothes for new borns of some distant relations, acquaintance or neighbours, and while knitting in the verandah she would occasionally peep into the adjacent room and see her husband reading,sleeping or talking to his friend.He knew that she looked at him and yet he never would return that glance. Why should he, he had nothing to tell her?

The day would thus pass into night, followed by an early dinner at seven. The intervening hours before the couple went to sleep at nine were left to the newsreaders and the characters of the daily soaps, who bore the burden off talking and raising their voices in the otherwise quiet house. Sharp at nine the lights and television would be turned off and Mrs.Roy would wait for her husband to lie down, pull the coverlet over him and then go to bed herself being reminded of what she had once told her daughter-in-law. “How do you bear with Baba’s silence Ma?",her daughter-in-law had once asked, and she had just one spontaneous answer –“I love him, beta.”


  1. Hi Pallavi,
    I simply loved this post, to me this the your best. The language was simple, the character were lovable. Overall it was one superb post, if you ask me. Please do keep writing such posts more.

  2. @Harsha: Well,this is one of the very few descriptive form of writing I have tried my hand on and am really glad that you liked it. Coming from a person who himself does a great job at it, this compliment means a lot.

  3. oh gurl! u hav a tinge of jhumpa lahiri in u...:)

    very very well written:) keep it up..
    simplicity is the essence of life..:)

  4. @Divsi :
    Well thats really flattering, Jhumpa Lahiri is one of my fav authors, loved Interpreter of Maladies.
    Thanks sweetie pie!

  5. I've become accustomed to expect a twist in the tale, so I read it twice just to make sure I hadn't missed anything concrete. Was I disappointed? Oh, boy! No. Instead I loved it to the core. :-)
    The narrative style made all the difference. Keep writing and let me keep reading. Cheerios! :-)
    By the way, why haven't you given any title? I'm sure it deserves one.

  6. Karthik: Thanks for the nice comments.
    I am unable to think of a title, will surely christen it once I can think of one.

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  8. I congartulate you for your lovey post,of which I came across after a long time. Language is simple and at the same time you have maintained a wonderful flow.Essence of the story is simply beuitful.
    Indian values are deeply rooted in its own form in so many families where tolerance ,love and dedication of the lady of the house silently work. The balance of the family is around the lady like Mrs.Roy but,does she ever get enough space to find herself what she wants out of her life ?

  9. @Radhika:You know how much your appreciation matters to me and how happy I feel to know that you have liked my stuff. Mrs. Roy, for me,is someone whose sole purpose in life is to be a good homemaker and love all in spite all odds, pros and cons etc. That she has realized.She is a simple woman, with limited needs, if any at all.For me, her sphere was enough for her and she clearly had no inclination to go beyond it. What I basically wanted to put across here was the simplicity in her soul which made her love so truly and unconditionally.