The point of no return

“She has gone.” He sobbed.
“Did you ever raise your hands on her?” she asked softly. There was no answer. “Did you hurt her anytime?” she repeated. He lay his head on the table, his face ensconced within his arms. “Yes”, his voice a barely audible whisper.

Somehow that single admission changed the whole perspective. The issue had become “Abuse” now. Appearances could be so deceptive; she thought. This man sitting in front seemed so vulnerable and broken.

Why did this change everything? She was aware that mere words could sometimes inflict deeper wounds than physical abuse. Yet resorting to violence especially against your spouse sounded so bestial.

What is it that provokes a person to raise their hands to inflict injury on another? Among the lower strata of society, the act needed minimum provocation. It was a way of life and neither the perpetrator nor victim let it disrupt routine life. Perhaps that included routine.

However, in the so called cultured, sophisticated society, the terminology and connotations were different. What goes wrong in a relationship, especially one that had been forged through love and passion? When and how does hatred, contempt creep in? How does the layers of feeling get eroded and frayed over the years? When does the equation get reduced to such a level that one stoops to using physical strength with scant respect to one’s spouse? Mere instinct? Just uncontrollable rage? A level of complacence?

She could not judge. She did not know the whole story. She had known them individually, and both were such good persons. But together, they turned out wrong for each other. Who would’ve imagined? And violence? She couldn’t even believe it. Just goes to show that one could never fathom humans or relationships. She felt helpless and desolate thinking of her two friends trapped in matrimony.

Horizon Hues

She stood next to him, leaning on the parapet wall overlooking the deep blue waters. Both of them kept their blank gazes focussed on the slithering silhouettes of the fish. She was conscious of his nearness, they were just short of touching. The fabric of his shirt and her duppatta were immersed in a playful revelry of their own. She was looking at him from the corner of her eye, when he suddenly turned to look at her full in the face. Startled, she looked away hastily but not before noticing a naughty glint in his eye. She felt like a thief caught red handed. Her mind raced trying to think of some small talk. He was about to say something, but stopped short of uttering the words. Unspoken thoughts lay saturated in the pink twilight mist.

Something had changed suddenly. Perhaps it had not been sudden, it had been creeping upon them slowly, stealthily. Only they had not noticed it. Or may be they had sensed it approaching but chose to ignore it? Thoughts and ideas had simply flowed between them unhindered. She knew his past and he knew her present. They had just woven their notions, opinions through the frontiers of time unfettered by emotions. There had been no confusion…until now? The skyline was turning grey.

Today was different. Why? A web was being woven and they seemed to be getting enmeshed. Feelings had entered silently, words that emerged from the mind took a detour through the heart and got lost at the lips. Silence loomed large. The horizon was tinged red.

He abruptly straightened himself. Folding his arms resolutely across his chest, he gazed beyond the horizon. Without looking at her, his voice barely above a whisper, “Its getting late. You better get back. I too have to leave. I’ll get you a cab “. He turned and started walking. For a moment, she stood looking at his receding figure, then wrapping her duppatta closely around her, she stepped forward, “Please don’t bother. I’ll take a rick. There’re a few waiting over there.”

She hurried ahead without a backward glance. The chill dusk was closing in. He turned back again to look at the blurred black skyline.