The Secret wish List

  Mohan’s death does not even feel real. It seems as though any moment now he will appear and greet the gathering, even though his dead body is right before us. On the face of it, Vibha is making an attempt to appear calm. But, I know, she is completely broken inside.

  Once the body is taken and everyone has left, the loneliness becomes oppressive. It is hard to even sit in the drawing room as just hours ago, the body was there as were all the people. The furniture had been moved around and I now help Vibha move it back. Once it is back in place there is not even a hint of the tragedy that has occurred there. Everything seems so normal.

  Except it isn’t.

  We sit in silence and I hold her hand. Monu has been told that her father has gone away to sleep and will not be coming back. What can a child of three comprehend about death, really? She answers that she too wants to go go to sleep like Papa. Vibha breaks down once more and hugs her.

  I take her inside, try to make her eat some dinner (which has been got from a neighbour’s home, adhering to the Hindu tradition of not lighting a fire in the home which has housed a dead body, which means one cannot cook) and read her a story and put her to bed.

  My return tickets are booked for the next day, but Vibha begs me not to go.

  ‘Please, Diksha, I need you,’ she pleads. The sorrow in her eyes and the plea in her voice gnaw at my heart.

  I call up my mother-in-law and tell her what the situation is. My mother-in-law asks me to stay as long as is necessary. I am worried about what Sandeep will say.

  ‘It is okay, Diksha. I will explain to him,’ she assures me. I feel like hugging her.

  How did a person who is so sensitive raise someone like Sandeep who seems to have no consideration for my feelings? Then again, perhaps it is partly my fault as I have always played ‘the willing doormat’ role in this relationship, right from the start.

  Sandeep calls me up shortly.

  ‘Mother spoke to me. How long do you intend to stay at Vibha’s? What in the world can you accomplish by being there?’ he asks, coming directly to the point in his characteristic blunt style.

  ‘Hey listen, Vibha is totally devastated. Her husband’s died, for God’s sake. I will return soon as I can. Your mother did say it was okay.’

  What I really want to tell him is that my sister needs me. That there is something called ‘family support’, something perhaps he will never understand as he does not have siblings.

  I am, however, unable to explain to him why I need to stay back. Sometimes, when the outlook and wave-length of the other person is completely different, it is best to keep quiet. After all, he hasn’t really objected to my staying with Vibha and neither has he demanded that I get back. He has merely asked me a question, the answer to which is obvious and comes instantly to me. How can I not stay back when Vibha needs me and has asked me to?

  I spend five days with Vibha. We go over all of Mohan’s financials arrangements and sort out everything. For the first time in my life, I feel I am doing something useful, other than being a mother and a wife. I sort out all the papers, the loans pending in his name, the mutual funds invested in, the shares he holds, the PF, the insurance policies. I even help her get the death certificate. In college, accountancy was always my favourite subject. But it is the first time in my life I am using it practically. Finally, I manage to neatly organise almost everything and tie up the loose ends.

  Every night, after her in-laws and Monu have gone to sleep, Vibha and I sit and talk. Our need to communicate seems to be endless and even though we have been talking for four nights now, we still have so much to say to each other. We talk about the uncertainty of life, reminisce about old times, the future and everything else in between.

  Tonight, Vibha is very grateful for all my help and for my presence there. ‘You are good at this, Diksha. You should be working in the financial sector, you know,’ she says.

  I smile at the compliment she gives me despite her grief.

  ‘Then again, it is good that you never had a career. Look at me, Diksha, I have never really lived my life.’

  ‘What do you mean, you haven’t lived your life? You got married when you wanted to. You are working, you have a career. You are successful. If anything, I should be the one complaining. I was forced into marriage at nineteen, Vibha. Nineteen. Then I got pregnant and became a mother. I know I am grateful for Abhay and I adore him and all that. But it is me who hasn’t lived her life, Vibha. I got married in the second year of college, for God’s sake. I made one silly error at sixteen and was branded for life. It changed my whole life. You have at least lived life on your terms, unlike me.’

  ‘Yeah, Diksha, But look at us now. Abhay is nine and does not need you around so much. My Monu is just three. You were wise to have a child early. You are so young and you have your whole life ahead of you.’

  ‘What young? I will be thirty-five soon. And what do I have to show for it? Nothing whatsoever, Vibha. I feel my life has been a total waste. Never have I had a chance to do the things I’ve really wanted to do,’ I say bitterly.

  I have always felt cheated, pushed around by my parents. It is all pouring out now—the frustration, the pent-up hurt. I am unable to stop myself. I have been made to feel guilty my whole life for that fateful night. I have been constantly reminded of it. Everywhere I go, it is always with a grey cloud hanging over my head, reminding me of the dishonour I have brought to my family. I have been made to feel as guilty as a cold-blooded murderer for what seemed to me to be a not-such-a-terrible thing. I have never lived my life according to my wishes. My whole life has gone in trying to make amends and please my parents first, and catering to Sandeep and Abhay after that.

  ‘So change it. What is stopping you?’ says Vibha quietly.

  It takes me a few seconds to comprehend.

  ‘How can I change it? You know how Sandeep is. He is a conservative, conventional guy, eight years older than me,’ I say.

  ‘So?’

  ‘What do you mean “so”? How can I change anything? He is a very different sort of a guy, Vibha. We agreed, right at the start of the marriage that he would earn, while I stayed at home. I opted to be a housewife. And to be fair, I wasn’t forced into it. It was a mutual decision as neither Sandeep nor I wanted to put Abhay in a crèche. See, Sandeep’s outlook is very different from Mohan’s.’

  Then I realise that I have referred to Mohan as though he exists. I bite my tongue.

  But Vibha has a strange faraway look in her eyes.

  ‘Look, Diksha, even if I want to do the things I really want to, I can’t. Do you know, for the past three years, Mohan had been hounding me incessantly for a holiday, but I never took time off for him? I went back to work when Monu was barely three months old and have worked continuously ever since. Today, if you ask me what it is I really want, I would say, it is to spend time with Mohan and Monu. But it is too late for that now, isn’t it? See what I mean? We all must really live our lives, Diksha. We should do what makes us happy. I kept pushing myself in my career, as I wanted to prove that I was as good as any man. I didn’t want to be seen as one of those women who neglects work and goes home early just because her child is ill. You know, Mohan had pleaded so many times with me to come home early and go to the movies. But, it was always work and more work for me. I have hardly lived, Diksha. And, in a strange way, I don’t think you have either.’

  The pain, depth and honesty in her voice go straight to my heart.

  I fall silent, thinking about everything she has said. I know she is right.

  ‘Yes, Vibha. I know what you mean,’ I finally say.

  ‘If you do, then what are you going to do about it?’

  ‘Eh?’

  ‘It is not enough to know, Diksha. You have to act. I am going to take a year-long sabbatical now. I know what I want. I want to spend time with Monu. I want to take her to places, I want to show her the zoo, the museum, do all the fun stuff that I have missed out. I want to be there for her when she comes back fro
m school. I am clear what I want, and I know I will go for it. But what is it that you want for yourself, Diksha?’

  I think hard about it. I am surprised to discover that I do not have an answer to that.

  ‘Vibha, I have done all of the things you want to do for Monu, for Abhay. I was there for him throughout. In fact, I have been a mother for so long that I really don’t know how to do anything else. You ask me what I want, about my desires and dreams, and I can’t think of anything.’

  ‘Okay, let me rephrase that. Presume you don’t have Abhay or Sandeep to hold you back. Presume all the decisions are your own. What then would you like to do?’ Vibha prods.

  I can see that she is in no mood to let go of her line of enquiry. Perhaps this conversation is helping her to not think about Mohan’s death. After his funeral, we have talked so much about him and all the memories associated with him and wept. This time, the conversation is veering towards something serious. It is definitely making me think.

  What do I really want?

  For so many years really, I have suppressed my desires. I have not even allowed myself the luxury of dreaming. Now Vibha’s prodding is making me contemplate.

  ‘I would like to do some fun things. I have never had what people call “fun” in my life, and would like to experience that. I want to try all those things I never got a chance to,’ I finally say.

  ‘What fun things? Be specific,’ demands Vibha and she snatches up the writing pad which I had been using earlier to make notes about Mohan’s loans and other stuff.

  ‘Hmm... I will have to think,’ I reply, not wanting to commit and feeling suddenly vulnerable and exposed.

  ‘So think. We have the whole night. I will write down what I want from life and, here, you do the same as well,’ she says, tearing out a page from the writing pad and handing it to me.

  ‘I don’t know, Vibha. I really haven’t thought about such things in a long time,’ I reply.

  She thrusts the pen at me.

  ‘Is it important to you or not? Just a moment ago, you were complaining bitterly about having lived your life so far as per your parents’ or husband’s wishes. So I want you to write down what is it that YOU want on this piece of paper. Put down everything that will make YOU happy,’ she speaks slowly as though speaking to a child.

  ‘What is the point? Are you going to make it come true?’ I feel the resentment creeping back into my voice.

  ‘Maybe. Maybe not. But if you don’t even know what you truly want from life, how can you ever hope to obtain it? How can you give up on LIFE, Diksha? Do you want to continue to resign yourself to your so-called fate? Sure, you got married early. Sure, you paid a heavy price for a silly thing that you did when you were sixteen. But, can you change the past? No, you can’t. Your future is in your hands. Our hands. I know what I am going to do and I am writing it down. When you write down something, it intensifies your intention. There was this training programme I attended at work where they made us write down our goals for the next five years. That is what we need, Diksha. We need goals. Write down yours. No matter how crazy they seem or how unachievable. Do you have anything to lose by doing so?’

  Vibha is emotional now. There are tears in her eyes. It is as though she is determined to squeeze out the best bits of life and do all that she feels she has missed. Her quiet determined manner is beginning to affect me.

  I take the paper from her hand and think.

  It is a first for me.

  What is it that I really want? I rack my brain for answers.

  I see Vibha furiously scribbling. She looks up as though on cue and says, ‘Go on! Write it down. Pretend Sandeep and Abhay aren’t there in your life and it is just you and nobody else.’

  That gives me a starting point. I pick up the pen and I write:

  Things I badly want to do.

  Then I pause and close my eyes. How would it be if Sandeep and Abhay weren’t around? How would I design my life in that case? I haven’t gone on a vacation since a very long time. So I put that down.

  Ideas begin to flow and I quickly jot them down. When I am done, my list looks like this:

  Take a vacation alone, without family, but with a friend.

  Go snorkelling.

  Get drunk!

  Learn salsa.

  Wear a bikini.

  I pause and think. I let my imagination run riot. The thought of wearing a bikini is giving me ideas. And then I add:

  Have sex with a guy other than husband, just to know what it feels like!

  I am surprised at what I have written. Where have all these wishes come from? I am married to an extremely conventional man and have led a sheltered, protected life. I have never had alcohol, never gone on a vacation alone and never worn a bikini. I realise that my list is pure fantasy.

  I am about to scratch it out.

  But before I can do that, Vibha who has stopped writing, snatches my list from me.

  ‘Nooo, I am not ready to share it yet,’ I shriek in horror even as she reads it and I try to grab it back from her.

  Suddenly we are not grown-up women anymore, but a pair of cousins fighting, just like when we were kids.

  ‘Why in the world would you want to hide it from me? Come on!’ she says as she reads.

  I expect her to laugh. Especially since the whole list seems so ridiculously impossible.

  She doesn’t. She nods solemnly instead.

  ‘You know, Diksha. Your list, it is not so hard. You should just go for it. I have done everything on this list except the last thing.’

  ‘Wow! Lucky you! I guess it was easy for you. I, on the other hand, have never gone anywhere without the family. I have always dressed conservatively and that last wish about sleeping with another guy, it is just a silly, totally wild fantasy. Forget I wrote all this. I did it just to please you. I did not mean it,’ I say, trying to cover my embarrassment.

  ‘See my list,’ she says and hands it to me.

  I am surprised to read it. Everything that I have been doing with Abhay—ordinary mundane things like being there when he returns from school, reading him a bedtime story, packing lunch for him, taking him to the park, teaching him to ride a bicycle—are on Vibha’s list.

  ‘You know what, Diksha? You must do the things on your secret wish list. You really must. We don’t know what tomorrow will bring. See, whoever anticipated this? I really wish I had spent some more time with Mohan. And now there is nothing I can do to bring to change that,’ she says and breaks down again.

  I hold her for a long time as she sobs and gradually quietens down. I think to myself that the list I have made is indeed a secret wish list.

  That night, l am awake for a very long time. The more I think about it, the surer I am. I feel light and happy and also excited and frightened. It is as though a weight is off my shoulders and I suddenly know what I want. I haven’t felt this way in a long time.

  As I fly back to Bangalore, back to my normal life the next day, I make up my mind that I am going to strike off each and every item on my wish list except perhaps No. 6 which will remain my secret fantasy.

  No matter what it takes.

  Vibha is right. I have never really lived my life. But, now I want to.

  But there is only one thing: I have no idea how I will do it.

  Ten

  SO THAT IS HOW IT IS BORN. MY SECRET WISH LIST.

  In the darkness of the night and the suspended isolation of the plane’s interiors where your life is on pause mode, my wish list seems to be believable, achievable even and, most of all, perfectly sane.

  But the moment I land in Bangalore and take a pre-paid cab home (Sandeep does not come to the airport—his team from Korea is still visiting), the vacuity of my wish list begins pressing down on me, like a phantom ghost whose weight you feel but cannot see.

  I wonder what has got into me. Why did I ever listen to Vibha? What a crazy thing to do—write down a wish list which I don’t have a hope in hell of achieving. And how foolish was I t
o feel determined about achieving it. How could I? Ordinarily, I should have been able to dismiss it as just as something I did for a lark. Just something I did to please Vibha. But the wish list seems to have taken on a life of its own. I am unable to dismiss it. It is as though the words I have written on paper have transformed themselves into a coil of rope which has wrapped itself around my neck and is pulling me towards my desires.

  I open the paper once again. As I look at it, my heart begins to beat faster. The words beckon me, taunt me, mock me, ask me to live my life, and bring my wish list to fruition.

  I sigh, fold the paper neatly and put it away and pull my thoughts towards what I will cook for dinner, and how happy Abhay will be when I pick him up from his grandmother’s house. It is almost as if I have shoved the list into a bottle, shut it tight, thrown it into the sea and returned to my normal life.

  To my surprise, Abhay does not seem to have missed me at all. In fact, he looks mildly disappointed at my return.

  My mother-in-law gives me a knowing smile as if to say, ‘See, this is how you raise children. See how happy he is?’

  I do not mind at all. I am relieved that he has been happy in my absence.

  ‘You should do this more often, Diksha. The child is very comfortable here. This apartment complex has so many more facilities than your house. So many children to play with. We have a pool, the park, tennis—everything. I really don’t know what Sandeep sees in staying in that independent house, when I myself prefer an apartment. People have to change with changing times,’ she says.

  She is truly modern, my mother-in-law. She is so practical and correct in her thinking. But Sandeep loves the independent house with the tiny oasis of greenery that surrounds it.

  ‘Ma, you know how he is. He hates “living in mid-air” as he calls it,’ I answer.

  ‘I know. It is not that we haven’t had this conversation so many times before. Anyway, I do enjoy having Abhay over. He is such a lovely child. You really should do this more often, you know. Get away from the husband, kid,’ she winks and there is a twinkle in her eye.