Water on Stone …Story 2 by Uma Sharma
In the depths of our hearts, we always know love is elusive. It is like sand slipping through the fingers; you can feel it but cannot hold it. Seema realized it too. She could feel the salty taste of longing in her dry mouth. It was the third night in a row when she woke up with a dry mouth and an aching heart. She could hear her heart beating furiously against her chest. It is the same dream all over again. She sat on the bed, took a cigarette from the packet on the side table, and walked out on the balcony. She lit the cigarette and took a deep puff, slowly exhaling a long chain of smoke. The distant apartments were slumbering in the night. Every unlit window has its own story to tell. The unsaid dreams locked behind the closed eyelids, draped in sleep. Their occupant’s head laid restfully on fluffy pillows breaking away from a relentless chain of thoughts repeating like a merry-go-round. Like a box of matches, the apartments looked animated, except few lit-up windows, and the buildings were sombre. A feeling of dark silent night was slowly enveloping Seema. Her mind was quiet.
How comfortable it is to dream! To snuggle under the folds of sleep, oblivious to the weight of the mind, to the umpteen thoughts. To be in the world of dreams, a place of liquid boundaries where realities bend to encompass many layers of our being. A very real world at one moment, in another, just writing in the sand. It was the same dream. Seema felt the urge to cry. The dream world respite to many has become a punishment for Seema. For three consequent nights, she saw the same dream. Once again, she was in Jatin’s arms, comforted and consoled. It felt natural, and suddenly everything else felt unreal. Is it even real that Jatin has moved out? Seema turned to look at the bed; it lay empty. The bed felt like an icy slab. It seemed as if it lay there, empty, barren forever. The empty space was heavy as if every breath Jatin took was still floating in the air. Seema felt the air to be suddenly heavy. Seema took the last puff of her cigarette and went inside the room.
A slanting sun ray was adorning the centre of the room, reflecting the zig-zag pattern of the curtains on the floor. Seema opened her eyes; it was a breezy morning. She felt the chill in the breeze; she forgot to close her balcony door. Her droopy eyelids were still soaked in sleep. She doesn’t remember when she falls back to sleep. It was a dreamless sleep. She looked outside with sleep-soaked eyes; it was almost afternoon. She looked at the alarm clock by the bedside table; it showed 11.30 am. Seema rushed to the bathroom. A quick bath relaxed her. She dressed up and headed out to meet Jatin for lunch. Although they are separated, they still meet occasionally for lunch or coffee. She can’t live with him again, no matter how much she wants to live with him. His memories feel like old wounds that still hurt from time to time. They compromised to remain friends.
Seema hailed an auto. Though the restaurant was just three blocks from her house, she didn’t feel like walking. It was an autumn afternoon, warm and breezy. The bright sun outside was in stark contrast with Seema’s gloomy mood. It is an incorrect metaphor to compare a relationship with seasons. A relationship is like a river flowing under a bridge. The same water never flows back. It only flows forward. Today would be yesterday, which will only exist in memory like leftover food on a discarded plate. Seema came out of her reverie. The auto came to a halt. She paid the driver and then quickly turned towards the restaurant door. Her heart jumped at the sight of Jatin. Jatin was sitting at their usual spot, engrossed in his tablet. Seema stood for a minute to compose herself. She slowly reached the table. Jatin looked up and smiled. They have divorced a year ago.
Seema took her seat across from Jatin. They have known each other for almost a decade. Their seven years marriage was going strong when Jatin decided to move out. Seema smiled back at Jatin. A relationship is like a river where each partner finds its trajectory. Jatin discovered his path in spirituality. He has become celibate. He has joined an ashram and left Seema and his job. Sometimes we do not need a third person to break a relationship, and sometimes the partners outgrow each other. Seema took a sip of her brewed, hot coffee. Jatin wanted to discuss selling their apartment, which was co-owned by her. It is incredible but heart-breaking to realize that a home built of not just brick and mortar but every moment we have shared, the struggles we had, and a place we call our own has a price to it. It is not forever like it felt when we built it, it’s just another temporary contract, just an apartment like many we pass haphazardly, standing without a purpose.
Jatin was talking matter-of-factly as if it was not his home, as if he had never lived in it. Seema took another sip of her coffee. She felt her home was a means to an end for Jatin. Suddenly, she felt a surge of energy like an epiphany. It was indeed a means to an end for him, and so was she! A realization dawned on her: everything is a means to an end for Jatin, even his spirituality, maybe. It was always about what he could get out of anything; nothing was enough. Does anything mean to him? Maybe nothing. However, she is enough; her life is enough. She doesn’t have to become a means to some end.
Seema got up. Her cup was half full of coffee. She gave a last look to Jatin and turned away. She is free now. Her heart was filled with gratitude for her life, memories, and experiences. It is a new day, a new beginning!
