“No,” he turned serious, “I am damn serious. I love you, Antara. Don’t ever be a thickhead about it again.”

Then he lied back on the bed and pulled her closer to him.

“Just a minute,” she remembered something, reached out for the drawer of the side table, took out an envelope and handed it to him.

“What is it?”

“Parikshit had sent this on our one-month anniversary.”

Mrinal opened the envelope. Inside it was a coupon for one night at the presidential suite of a five-star hotel in the city. Amongst the amenities included in the package, there was baby-sitting service as well.

“It is still valid,” Antara explained even as her face turned crimson, “Next week is our six-month-anniversary. So, I thought…. If you have time that is…” She stopped as she noticed him looking guilty and perplexed. “What… what happened?” she stammered. Did she do something wrong?

“I… just realized that… Antara. You helped me with all my social obligations and issues. It couldn’t have been so easy on me, if you hadn’t cooperated… Not just cooperated but actively worked to socialize with all my friends and make it all comfortable for me. I never asked about you… What did you, for example, tell your cousin about this gift all these days?”

“Why would I tell him anything, Mrinal ji? He is my younger brother. I mean… he is not going to ask me about…” she paused, but Mrinal stayed silent. “Let’s just put this back if it disturbs you so much,” she added, slightly disappointed.

“No! Oh God… I’m just… I’m so at loss about so many things right now. Antara. All I want to say is that if there are things I haven’t asked you about, if there are things that have been difficult because of me, you can tell me now.”

“Mrinal ji. The only person I had to lie to was your mother. She kept asking me, every weekend, when she called me or I did, and I kept telling her that everything was fine. She insisted that I send a photograph of the three of us together. You, me and Mahi. I…”

“What?”

“I edited one and sent it,” she gulped nervously as she said that. But Mrinal did not seem bothered about that at all.

“What about your family?”

“The only one who genuinely takes interest in my life is Parikshit. And he is younger to me. He can’t ask much even if he wants to.”

“What about others?”

Antara replied in slow, deliberate and low voice, “I am an orphan, Mrinal ji. Luckier than many others that Chachaji and Chachiji thought they were sufficiently well off and did not think that I was a financial burden. But willingness to spend money isn’t the same thing as caring.”

Mrinal looked sad. He kept the coupon on the side table and held her. “And then you got married to me? Someone who didn’t care either?”

“I had my priorities and I took my chances.”

“What were those?”

“Over time – I had learned to live without love. It was not that difficult. And then Parikshit was there. His genuine attachment to me compensated for many other things, I believe. What I could not come to terms with was not being treated with dignity. Like I told you earlier today, whatever I had known about you, I had hoped that you would grant me that. A basic dignity. And you did! You weren’t sure about this marriage and you honestly told me on our wedding night that we didn’t know each other and implicitly admitted the limitations it introduced. Someone else could still have used me, even without the acceptance or the emotional connect. Most men I know wouldn’t have bothered about these things, Mrinal ji. You did. And do you really want me to repeat all the praise I have already heaped on you?”

“You have seen good in everything that could be bad about me, Antara. Today I promise that I will do whatever it takes to make you happy in future. Shall I keep this?” he pointed towards the coupon, “I will get the reservations done.”

Antara nodded with moist eyes. Then she said, “I had learned to live without love. But that doesn’t mean that I am not supremely happy to get it.”

“Then you should forget about how to live without love.  Till I am alive, you won’t live without it, Antara. I promise.”

—

2 years later

“So, tell me Priya. What brings you here?” Antara made her new client comfortable and started the conversation. Her practice had grown in last two years. She had rented an office and no longer worked from home. “All kinds of people come to the office now,” she had explained to Mrinal, “I don’t like the idea of them coming home.” She had also hired a full-time assistant to manage her appointments and also to manage office.

“I am not happy. In my marriage.”

“What makes you unhappy?”

“He is selfish, self-centered.”

Antara sighed inwardly. Ever since her client profile had expanded to include adults, unhappy-with-marriage type were all too common. Some had genuine issues, but for most others, Antara was surprised at how naïve people could get. Why was it so difficult for them to understand that two different people cannot always think or feel the same way. Some differences were inevitable and everyone had to live with them. The only time she and Mrinal had not fought was in the first six months of their marriage; when they did not have any relationship!!  Since then every little thing had given them the reason to fight at one point of time or the other. Mrinal spending too much time in the bathroom, Antara getting late with her clients, one of them scolding Mahi and the other finding it unreasonable, or even one of them buying something for Mahi and the other thinking that it would spoil her! The best part of the fights was the make-up though. Antara effortfully stopped herself from blushing and brought her thoughts back to her client.

“How so?”

“In many ways.”

“Tell me about it. Some example…”

“He doesn’t want me to talk about my past. But I can’t just… That past is a part of me. I can’t just cast it aside.”

“Is it something unpleasant?”

“Well… Nothing he doesn’t know about. This is my second marriage.”

“Hmm… Why did the first marriage end?”

“It wasn’t working out…”

Antara had such a natural urge to raise her eyebrows. She was unhappy in her first marriage too! And ended it because of that? ‘Be professional,’ she told herself as she often did in such moments, ‘Don’t be judgemental.’

She probed her, tried to make her think objectively about her life and people – what had been her role in both her relationships? Could she have done something to make it better? She wasn’t particularly hopeful about her though. ‘Lacks empathy,’ she wrote in her notes. Not something she would tell her. But she needed a reference for herself; it helped in subsequent sessions.

Priya was her last client before lunch. So, they came out together. Mahi, now a two and a half year old toddler was busy in her baby talks with Antara’s assistant. Shyama must have brought her back from the play school. Antara brightened up on seeing her.

“Arre! Look who is here,” she went to the child and picked her up in her arms. “Come here, come here. Come to Mamma. What did Mahi do in school today?”

“Played in garden,” Mahi responded and then giggled for some reason. She hid her face in Antara’s shoulders. Antara realized that she had noticed a stranger.

“This is my daughter, Mahi,” she introduced her to Priya. “Mahi. Say hello to Priya Auntie!” The child kept giggling and refused to look up. “Silly girl. Is Mahi a silly girl? Or is she a smart girl? Come on now… say hello.”

Even as she was talking to her daughter, Antara did not miss the strange expressions on Priya’s face. She looked overwhelmed and uneasy.

“Hello,” Mahi quickly looked up and then went back to hiding her face.

“She is being such a drama queen,” Antara tried to sound apologetic, but her fondness for Mahi was obvious and she was almost feeling proud at her antics.

“Lovely child,” Priya said, and ran her hands over Mahi’s hair once. Antara noticed that her hands were trembling. What was the matter? She had said that she didn’t have any children. Such emotional reaction to a child pointed to some complication. Was there a history of miscarriage or abortion, Antara wondered. She would have to find out next time.

“Mahi hungry…” They heard the child mumble.

“Hungry? Let’s go and eat then. What will you eat for lunch?” Antara asked as Priya silently waved her ‘bye’ and started leaving.

“Dairy Milk.”

“Dairy Milk, indeed. Listen to our princess. Dairy Milk is not food, Sweetie. We will have roti, and rice and dal.”

“Dairy Milk,” Mahi repeated.

“Not now, Mahi.”

—

To be continued