Hopeless Hope (Part 4)
The final year project spanned two semesters for undergraduate students. Rupali was doing hers with Paritosh and she had worked hard in the first semester. When she had requested him for recommendations for her Ph. D. admission applications, he had written glowing recommendations and unknown to her had even spoken to a few of his acquaintances at some of the universities she was applying to. He hadn’t regretted the decision. She was working even harder in the second semester meeting him almost every day with her progress report or with her questions.
They talked about things beyond her project. Nothing particularly personal, but it was still more than he usually talked to any student, or even any colleague. Their conversations would be about other academic stuff, her other courses, his research interests, institute’s policies, her asking for advice about how to plan a career in academics and research and so on. He sometimes wondered why he talked so much to her. Probably because she was mature for her age and he could speak to her like an equal. At the same time he didn’t feel threatened because she was much younger. She wouldn’t judge him, his choices or his life. It was a comfortable camaraderie he enjoyed in his otherwise lonely life.
It would have stayed at that if that call from hospital hadn’t come at a time when she was in his office discussing where she was stuck with her project. The call had disturbed him, as those calls always did! “I think… I need to go out right now… Let’s continue this discussion later, Rupali,” he had told her.
“That is fine. But where are you going? Is there a problem?”
“Nothing to worry about. I have to go to the hospital,” he had replied and then seeing that she was worried even more on hearing the word ‘hospital’, he had told her the name as a way of explanation, “JJD.”
That was a mental hospital. So, there wasn’t an accident or anything. But why a mental hospital? She hadn’t asked him then, but he had to tell her later.
“It’s my wife,” he had informed her. She was in the hospital for last seven years or so. “She got those attacks since her childhood. Doctors here identified them as severe anxiety attacks. But she never got any treatment at her parents’ home. They were more interested in hushing down any stories about the attacks she had and wanted to get her married early so that the prospects of her other siblings did not get marred.”
“What does that even mean?”
He had smiled patronizingly at her, “It probably sounds Greek to you, but for a large part of our population, getting all their kids married is the only and the ultimate goal they have in life.”
“And how can you find that amusing? Don’t you feel angry? Isn’t it unfair that you are saddled with this responsibility?”
He had sighed and leaned back on his chair, “You ask me difficult questions, Rupali. There are things that we just come to terms with.”
“Why? Why wouldn’t you hold her family responsible? Why wouldn’t you send her back to them and ask for a divorce?”
Paritosh had looked thoughtful for a while and then he had spoken. He had spoken quite a lot, quite uncharacteristically. “You asked me if I don’t feel angry. I had felt angry. Extremely angry. And you know what she told me? Or rather begged me to do. She told me that instead of sending her back to her family, I should leave her in Banaras or some place. That is what her family would do as well. But if she were sent back, everyone in the village would know, and it would be a trouble for her younger siblings and cousins, especially her sisters. She gave me another option too. She told me that she would happily write a suicide note, if I could arrange to kill her. She was too scared to commit suicide herself. Otherwise she would have done it long back.”
Rupali had looked like all the blood was drained out of her face.
“I’m sorry,” he had realized that he had said things that were too crass and had added gently. “I got carried away. I am scaring you.”
“No. Obviously you didn’t do either,” she had smiled weakly, “There is nothing to be scared about.”
“How could I? And then…” he had stopped himself. He was getting carried away again. He hadn’t realized that he was so eager to talk to someone about all of this. But how appropriate would it to tell all this to a student, especially when he had kept silent before everyone else all these years.
“Then?”
He had smiled, “Nothing. Let’s…”
“You can’t tell me half the story, Dr. Khanna. That’s not fair.”
“Real life stories are not fairy tales. They don’t have a happy ending. Or even a closure.”
“I know that by now. But I still need to know the rest.”
He had shaken his head at her persistence. Then he had decided that she had heard the worst already, and continued, “I had some questions to answer myself too. Why had I married her? Because my mother wanted a daughter-in-law who would serve her and take care of her in her last days. She wouldn’t leave our hometown and live with me here. So, Amrit, that is my wife, had stayed back with her. She never complained. She took care of her like a professional nurse here won’t have been able to do. All this while fighting through her own illness. Did I owe her nothing? I visited once a month and for a long time I didn’t even know about her problems. I had stayed longer during summer vacation once. It was then that she got one of her attacks and I came to know about it. When that happened, she had cried at my feet asking me to choose one of those two options, but not send her back. In that scheme of things was she a perpetrator or a victim? Sending her back would have been a lifelong punishment for her and not her family, who were the real culprits. My own family had done no better by her. I questioned my mother about not informing me and not getting her treated. Apparently they had been to a doctor in the town. He said everything was fine with her and she was just missing her parents’ home. Once she settled down in her new home, everything would be fine. You didn’t have to be a doctor to know that the diagnosis was flawed. She was seriously troubled. I tried to convince my mother that both of them should come and live with me. But my mother wouldn’t agree. ‘If you are missing your wife so much, take her. I am not leaving my home,’ she would taunt me. And the idea of serving her in-laws at all costs was so ingrained in Amrit that she wouldn’t think of doing anything against my mother’s wishes.”
He had fallen silent, but Rupali urged him on, “Then?”
“I drove myself crazy thinking about it. Finally I decided to raise my voice against my mother. It didn’t come easy to me. I was not brought up that way. Parents’ wishes had been the final word for me all my life. They had wanted me to come back from US. I did. They had wanted me to marry Amrit. I did. But now I was responsible for Amrit’s wellbeing too. So, I decided to go home to get her here. But I didn’t have to rebel. Just as I was leaving for home, I got a call from Amrit telling me that my mother was breathing her last. She died minutes after I reached there. I brought Amrit here with me, but her problems only increased with time. The doctors told me that it was too late for her to get better. And after…” His voice had drowned again.
“Dr. Khanna?”
“This is crazy. Wrong. Why I am telling you all this?” he had suddenly grown extremely self-conscious.
“Because it doesn’t look like you have shared it with many people. Probably with no one. And we need to share our problems.”
“She wanted a baby,” he needed only a small encouragement to continue, “She was convinced that it would be a cure to her problems. Despite doctors advising against it. But pregnancy only made her condition worse. During one of the attacks she harmed herself and… the baby could not be saved. She had a complete breakdown after that and had to be institutionalized. There was no way she could lead a normal life here. And that is how she has been till now… She had a severe attack yesterday when I got the call. So, I went to see her. Sometimes she recognizes me and it helps her. But most of the times even that doesn’t happen.”
They had stayed silent for a while. Rupali needed time to process everything she had heard. “I’m sorry,” she had finally broken the silence with these words, “For you. But your wife is really lucky.”
Paritosh had shrugged not knowing how to feel about that complement. Then he had tried to change the subject, “Our discussion was interrupted yesterday. Shall we…”
“Not now,” she had stopped him urgently. Paritosh had looked at her for a moment and had realized that she was too affected. He had come to terms with all of it over the years, but he had told her too much in just a few minutes.
“Fine,” he had relented. She didn’t usually shy away from work. So, she must not be in a position to discuss. That’s why she had stopped him. “But don’t be so disturbed. Things happen. Life is not fair. But we don’t stop living.”
She had nodded.
“You want some coffee, or tea?” he had asked seeing that she was still quite shaken up.
The coffee invitation would have been the first step towards winning her bet with her friends, but she had long forgotten about it. Right then, she could really do with some coffee. So, she had nodded and they had walked to the department’s canteen to grab a cup.
They had sipped their coffee in awkward silence. Paritosh had looked around after a while and had spoken after ensuring that the place almost empty, “Rupali. You really shouldn’t have heard all of this. I know it sounds selfish that I should be preaching you after unburdening myself at your expense. But try to forget. It is sad and dark and I would hate it if it affected you.”
“I am fine. Don’t worry about me.”
He had nodded and had spoken again after a pause, “Not many people know about it here. Many think that I am not married or am widowed. Not that I want to deceive anyone. But I don’t want rumours and pity all around me either.”
“I won’t open my mouth, I promise. You can trust me,” she had said earnestly.
—
To be continued