The last time Frost wrote about something romantic that she felt from her heart, it was vey widely spoken about. And it happened on a night, which would have passed off as an ordinary night, but I had laid foundations to something big, although it did not have anything to do with love.
Tonight as well, technically last night, watching this movie about adolescence and how love in itself gets interpreted made me realize how good it felt(notice the tense is past here and therefore do not even dare to bring up a name!). The absolute sheer force of something called hormones, triggers some of the most important emotional outbursts that man can comprehend and thus has led to the most appreciated works of art, be it the Taj Mahal or poetry or simply just a whole liner that your loved one likes.
This is not something that I feel or felt or would feel. It is a simple story. Something imaginative, some thing I could have read, something that could have happened or might. Absolutely fiction!
It smelt familiar – like the smell of home. For a place so far off, the smell of wet earth makes one happy. It reminded her of her parents home – the place where Tulsi spent her life, until now. As with most families, Tulsi grew up in an Indian nuclear family, the elder sibling, lots of love and lots of happy memories. And with time, Tulsi is married into a family equally suited. Tulsi’s husband, Neeraj, works as a consultant in the States. After a happy wedding and tearful farewell to homeland, the hormones start working. And this is Tulsi’s letter to her friend.
I miss you and the rest of the lot dearly. I cannot help but reminisce about all the good times we had there. The first few weeks were fun and settling down kept me busy. Now it’s become more of a drag. I can’t help miss home, family, you and the gang. There are some things that are best understood only by friends. I do hope that all are well back home.
I did get to check email finally last night and got replying to you today after I am done with all the chores and get Neeraj out of my way, so to say. Most of my time during the day is spent in chores; normal people like us cannot afford domestic help in this country. And until I find myself a job here, think I will have to stick to this routine here. Neeraj does try to cheer me up, his best efforts are to get me to go out and explore the city. It’s so not like there, I want to eat masala dosa and I get a Mc chicken here. I know you are laughing out loud as you read this. I must have taken your advice and followed you as an example and found myself a guy from Chennai itself, life would surely have been better. But I have no regrets, except may be the food (will use the opportunity and start up a kai yendi bhavan here.)
I wouldn’t have thought that I would say I had no regrets until last night, for I was most apprehensive after relocating to this country. Everything is here, but it’s still as alien as alien can be defined. And Neeraj… I do not know what to say. Guess getting to know him will take time. There was all this tension in my mind and I was probably getting grumpy with the work permit getting delayed. Your email was a welcome relief. I still ended up crying though. Not something I would do, but I did, until he came home.
You have always told me that you would realize it when some one loves you… guess it’s true. You all have been there when I most needed you. But last night after the email, life felt so hollow. I realized that you would still be there but I couldn’t come running to you when I wanted to have rasam! Life felt like shit! And I couldn’t help but carry the mood with me wherever I went.
That’s about life as it is, married life well, it’s a total different thing. Neeraj is a nice guy. Not like me at all. He is a lot more decent. Tries to keep me occupied with things to do and plans on trips and all that till my work permit gets through. And he keeps me engrossed in conversations – the best part of marrying a well-read person. Unlike any of the conversations that we had, the one we had after your email was the best.
Absolutely depressed from being away from you all, I retired to bed early. Don’t know how he could sense it, must be the stupid grumpy look I had, he kept asking if something was wrong. I told him its nothing and went to bed. A little while later when he came and put on the reading light and started reading, he asked me if I missed home and friends. Words really didn’t make it past my throat. It was as stifling as it could get. He enveloped me in an embrace so tight and yet so gentle. With my heart beating abnormally, and all those pent up words in my throat, and the tears that were flooding my eyes, I was sure I heard him give me assurance and all that. I so did not want to cry or create a scene, for I was sure talking about any of you all back home would make me wail like a baby. And I tried my best to suppress it. He told me, how it was when he came here, just a college grad, no experience in life, or in life away from home, no one he knew, and how he got to this point in life. He wanted me to know he would be there by my side. He wanted me to know that the embrace would always be there. He told me that he would be there!
I slept rather well last night, do not let your perverted brain ruin the flow of thought here. I felt secure, I felt cared about, and I felt loved. I felt a thousand times light hearted and felt a degree of warmth all around me. And this morning I thanked him for all that he had said and done, although we both knew that neither of us spoke a single word, we had the most amazing conversation, one that we could forever cherish.
It’s a rather long mail now, will write to you sometime soon.
It was as she felt Neeraj’s stubble on her neck, could feel his hear beat so close to hers, could feel the warmth of his breath on her skin, that Tulsi realized that she was in a distant land, far from her loved ones, with someone who would love her so much more, someone who would hold her closer to his heart than his life, someone who promised to be there for her. Lying there on that bed, with Neeraj’s arms around her, she came to know what it felt like to be loved.
I do not know how Neeraj would have felt, mostly because its almost dawn and way past midnight and my brains have shut shop.
As for the mundane stuff – the only resemblances in this story are the names of the characters, Anu, who is a very good friend of mine, and I couldn’t find any name more apt for an email as such; Neeraj, my youngest cousin, who turns two this October – we all like his name(the kid is brat!) a lot. Tulsi, well, Tulsi leaves are lying around in front of me as I began writing this.
So much for writing, I retire into the warm embrace that my bed entitles me to for now. 🙂