The first time I had written this story, it was a cathartic tale. To help me resolve a few issues with myself. I had not written it keeping in mind a specific audience. Neither had I tried to make the narration attractive in any way. Any such concerns would have adulterated the sentiments behind the writing.

But now, I feel I have outgrown this story. The issues apparently stand resolved. So, I have decided to spruce up the story a bit, and tried to make it more palatable. But the ethos that had formed the core of this story still persist.

The story in its original form and with comments can be found here (click). Though, I urge readers to not read the older version.




“This story is dedicated to the story in
me that was waiting to be told!”


Though I do not believe this work is going to get formally published, I would very genuinely like to thank my dear friend, Dr. Rajat Mohan Srivastava, who knows me well, and could best relate to the story. His help with some of the finer points of the story like how a theist could converse with the God is appreciated. He was the only reader I had counted on before I started writing it, and he did not disappoint me at that.

I also wish to thank my coauthor’s sister who I do not know, but some of whose suggestions did reach me. I thank her for one very important reason—for reading the story. While writing the story I did not know how many readers it would find, so it always feels nice to know that it did after all find one more reader.

Lastly, thanks to my coauthor. Her encouragement and anxiousness to see this work completed provided the much needed impetus for me to continue with the story even when I was feeling short of ideas and was experiencing inertia, akin to a writer’s block provided I claim to be a writer!

Ketan Panchal,
4th February, 2009


Sometimes we ignore the outstanding issues in our life and allow them to precipitate in our mind. Unknown to us they become a residua. Everything moves on smoothly, and the ignorance remains vindicated until there is an agitation. A jolt that shakes the residue out of its peaceful existence. There is haziness all around that blinds us. The only way to regain the clarity back is to stir vigorously…


Chapter 1. The Invisible Precipitate[Contents]
He was sitting in his cabin one afternoon in late June, 2022, though in his air-conditioned cabin, time and month did not really matter. It was only his beautiful wall clock that showed some concern for time. It was half past three and no one wanted to miss the Twenty-20 Cricket World Cup to be held that day between India and China. No wonder, the day was moving in a very leisurely fashion with most appointments standing canceled. As he was quite thorough with the case history of his next patient there was no need for him to go through her file. She was also his last patient for the day. So, the mandatory two-minute break that he used to take between seeing patients had him lapse into some soul-searching, a luxury he could afford not too often.

He looked around—a well furnished cabin, a laptop, a beautiful table, comfortable chair… he smiled to himself thinking how he used to curse the incompetent “consultants” during his internship when he had to sit on a stool sometimes, and they would sit in what appeared like a throne to his envious eyes. Now of course, he would not exchange his position with them for anything in return, and much less, exchange the chair. Steady flow of patients, who more often than not were happy to have come to him; the charitable personal clinic he used to attend on Saturdays charging the poor patients just twenty rupees, and the gratitude it used to inspire in them; the appreciation his honorary lectures used to get from young impressionable minds in which he was quite content to instill some sound fundamental concepts; the plaque outside his cabin:

Dr. Mukesh Joshi,
M.S. (Ortho.), M.Ch. (Neuro.)

An understanding and intelligent wife, who was a very good human being—perfect. His life was perfect. He much appreciated this perfection not only because it had permeated through all of his present, but all the more because of how it had all started. His past was not perfect–quite from it, rather. He remembered how he was brought up in a middle class-family, not poor, but not one that could afford him a luxurious life, how devastated he was on not getting admission for MBBS into college of his choice, and the various struggles he had to go through in his first year, and ghaaaanggg… (the two-minute buzzer went) his reverie was broken. “Time to concentrate on work, dude. Stop day-dreaming!” he told himself.

In came Mrs. Geetha Nair, not sweet sixteen, but, certainly sweet sixty! A cheerful lady suffering from compression of L4 and L5 nerve roots, she had undergone surgery a month back, and now he wanted to see her with follow up MRIs.

“Hello, doctor!”

“Hello, Mrs. Geetha!” Mukesh beamed on seeing her. “So, how are you feeling now?” he asked as he got up and sat down again in the decidedly comfortable chair. She came in and sat in the chair opposite him without waiting for the signal that other patients would have waited for. He could see she had not yet adjusted to her lumbar belt and she had a slight lurch in her gait.

“Am feeling better, but I still experience some stretching of nerves.”

“Yes aunty, that’s expected.”

“Aunty”—that was the degree of comfort between them, though, the occasional “Mrs. Geetha” did creep in. The comfort was mutual and he too was “Mukesh” or “Son” to her. But may be a gulf of one month had pushed them down a bit on their familiarity curve from where they had to climb back all over again. She was a part-time writer who was staying with her bachelor son of twenty-eight, and he was defiant about marrying “yet”; her husband, Ratnam, who had been the chief engineer of a large construction firm, had died two years back; her daughter, a doctor herself, was happily married in “the States”; watching tennis was one of her favorite pastimes and she liked Milli Kapanikova, the winner of six grand slams in mere two years, “soooo much”—they had discussed it all.

Mukesh was a very conscientious doctor and he quite genuinely used to relate to his patients, especially the nice ones, so all this “data” was not a burden to his memory, unlike many other doctors who used to curse the patients under their breath, and yet come up with insincere overtures: “And by the way, has your son Sanket learnt the guitar yet? Do let me know when he does his first show; I want to be in the front row!”–unknown to the patient that before they entered the cabin, their doctor would hastily scamper through their files; files, not of medical records, but such intimate personal data that could impress the patient with doctor’s vivacity and concern for them. Of course, the patient would not know that all their conversations were recorded through hidden microphones and their “gist” would be prepared and archived by the fastest back-office “medical transcript-ors” in the business—all unethical and illegal, yet all in practice.

But something was amiss today. Mrs. Geetha looked a bit lost. And from his experience he knew it was not the pain of the surgery or her jostling-for-space nerve roots. He asked her for the scans. He looked at them… “routine”…”nothing out of the ordinary”, he thought to himself.

“Well aunty, as I’d warned you, the tissues surrounding the nerve roots are a bit edematous”, he paused. Her expression indicating lack of comprehension invited an “Oh, sorry!” from him. He shook his head vigorously reminding himself that however comfortable he was with Mrs. Geetha, she was not a medical person.

“I mean the tissues have fluid in them which is resulting in some residual compression. It should resolve over time.”

“When will I feel normal again?”
“Normal, like you could partner Kapanikova in the next Wimbledon?”

She forced a smiled. “No, that would be abnormal. But normal enough that I could be the linesperson, at least?” And the effort behind the smile was not lost upon him.
He chuckled. “Let’s see, I think that should take you around two more months. But, the important thing is to be careful, during as well as after your recovery. You’ll have to keep on that lumbar support. And absolutely avoid lifting anything heavy.” He thought for a moment and then added, “Do avoid traveling alone. Raman didn’t accompany you today?” Raman was her son.

“No, he did not, or rather could not. He has been busy with a project. He had to go on a trip for a presentation. These construction firms… ” she remarked sharply. “They pay Ram well, but when will he live his life? This job has made his life an absolute hell… ” she sighed and trailed off. She had a penchant for nicknames. That quite intrigued Mukesh. This lady was full of paradoxes. She never used grammatical contractions, uttering each and every word separately, and cursing the SMS and email language that had spoilt the spoken and written language so much since their advent. But she had a nickname for everyone.

“I’m sure Raman cares for you. He must be genuinely busy”, he tried to console, sensing the sadness in her voice. Sometimes when she used to think about Mukesh, she used to feel so grateful to God. She was very lonely and had to stay alone in her house all day-long and sometimes even nights. She was happy to know that there was a receptacle for all her peeves as well as pet musings. He had become a pillar of emotional support for her in a very short time of their acquaintance. She was surprised to think how fast they had struck friendship. Friendship? She wondered at the term herself. He was almost half her age, but to the extent she could get intimate with any person, she had gotten with him. So it was indeed friendship. She had smiled and the case was closed with a lingering amusement as to how flimsy circumstances had made their paths cross. She had openly told him so many times how she wished she could have someone like Mukesh who she could talk with “all the time”.

“I know he does. In fact, just yesternight we had gone for a night walk. We had a good heart-to-heart talk and he had told me how he very much wanted to accompany me for today’s appointment but for the important briefing he had to make for his project.” She smiled and said, “And I reckoned he had spent much more time with me yesterday night than this appointment would have taken.” Mukesh could sense she on other days might have been just short of winking, but not today.

“As such it was not much trouble coming here alone. And do I need to mention that it is always such a delight meeting you? The distance does not seem anything at all. Besides, I come with my driver in the comfort of my car. Does that relieve you of your worry?”

“It does, but then, what’s it that’s troubling you?” He waited for a hint of disapproval for further query. There was none. He continued, “I could sense that something is not right. Something’s worrying you.”

“Mukesh!” A pause followed. A desperate plea to Mukesh to not understand her so well. But still, Mukesh understood. He understood the heaviness of the veil she was to lift off her composure. “Roox had called me up in the morning.” She paused.

“Your daughter?”

“Yes, my daughter”. “She told me that she got divorced from her husband”


“Yes, it was a shock to me.”

“Oh, that’s really bad. I mean, I don’t know what to say. But you’d told me she was happily married and has two kids herself?”

“That is what I used to think.” She sighed. “Till today, that is. She was not happy with her marriage at all.” Her voice was apparently shaky by now. Mukesh offered her water.

“Thanks. And, as she told me she is not going to press for any alimony. Her self-respect would not allow. She does not have any academic qualification to let her work in the U.S. I am really worried about her kids. I asked her to come to India, but she would not listen. She says it is her life, and that I have already spoilt it. She has nothing to do with me, anymore.”

“So,” he hesitated a bit, “Roox…I mean…what’s her good name?” And he always called people by their proper names.


“So Rukmini didn’t tell you? She didn’t tell you that her marriage was in trouble?”

“No she did not. It turns out that her husband was such a dog. Excuse me, but…”

“No, it’s alright. I don’t expect any superfluous decorum from you right now. Please go on.”

“He had never been loyal to her. Actually, he did not want a wife, but someone who could do cheap household labor and produce babies for him. They were hardly a couple. I knew when we had married her that she was not very enthusiastic about it, which had surprised me, but I had never thought things would go this bad. And now he does not want to have anything to do with the kids. Even if she forces him to take custody of the kids legally, I can imagine what would be their fate. What a terrible childhood would they have!”

In the meantime something about the name struck him. He was thinking to himself, and, “Rukmini Nair. Oh yes, I think I know her!” “She did her MBBS from Matunga Medical College, right?”

“So you know her?”

“Yes, of course, she was my ga… She was my good friend back in the college. She was my class mate.”

Though, he could successfully jam the broadcast of his incredulous recollection, “girl friend” was written all over his face. Geetha was not blind. The impact of this moment had crushed all the unformed words in their throat.


Chapter 2. Agitation and Turbidity[Contents]
“Do excuse me; I think I’ll take a good look at your scans”. He went back to the illuminated panel where he had hung the plates of her scans previously, and stared—at the “routine, nothing-out-of-the-ordinary-scans”. Just like in the scans, everything of his buried past had been laid bare. He stared emptily at the scans; his past life running right before his eyes. Moving snapshots that his memory had captured, cherished for times and discarded away later. They were all coming back to him in one swift motion. All emanating from the stillness of the hung plates. Everything in the room was as still as the plates hung on the panel…except the thoughts running riot in his mind. The scans were noninvasive, they say. But this revelation?

Geetha much valued the break she got to be with her own thoughts and get composed, though not sure if former were possible, and latter of any use. could she ever again look Mukesh in the eye? The eleven year-old memories were somewhat blurred, but, that did not soften the blow she was just dealt with. She remembered how when they were celebrating her final year result, Rukmini had told them about one Mukesh. That she liked him. That he was a nice guy, and that they ought to meet him once. But they had other things in mind for her. Her love for Mukesh was totally lost on them. Their mind could not accept that their daughter was “going around” with someone, when they had so much planned ahead for her. She had betrayed their trust.

“What was wrong with our upbringing?” “How long has been this going on behind our backs?” “We thought we had sent you to the college for studies. Was it a mistake we gave you so much freedom?” Geetha had wondered a bit too loud for Rukmini’s comfort. Yet Rukmini had pleaded with them to consider things with a “cool head”.

Just to sound reasonable Ratnam had probed her a bit more about the particulars of this nuisance called Mukesh. But the interrogative probing did not take long to turn into a declarative and hurtful one based solely on preconceived notions. Probing that actually poked her heart–unprepared for the asperities of a world that had got used to abrade any raw emotions it saw into some shape. The new shape did not matter; all that mattered was that those emotions mis-shapen out of recognition. “So that crook’s definitely not Malayali!”, her husband had thundered. “Rukmini, you know na, how these Maharashtrians are? I’m telling you he’s after our wealth” He tried to rationalize when their Roox had become inconsolable. “When will he start earning?” “Do you think we don’t care for you? Of course, we’ll find you a tall, handsome, well-earning doctor-husband. Then, you’ll forget this…what’s his name?” he said simply for the effect… to show his contempt. “Mukesh”, Geetha had filled in.

And it did have an effect. A permanent one at that… on Rukmini.

Geetha had her own set of different concerns. “What will our relatives say? You know how much had we tried to dissuade Kaushik from marrying a Punjabi girl? What will he say? What will his parents say?”. “Please think about us and do us a favor. Do not be so cruel to us.”

“Mom, is what those relatives say more important to you than my happiness?” Geetha genuinely could not understand.

“Roox, I am sure you will forget him with time. What is so special about him? You think there are no good Malayali guys?”

“He’s different, mom!”

“The hell he’s different!” Ratnam interjected impatiently. “I’m pretty sure that guy has hypnotized you with his greasy talks so much so that you can’t even consider the wishes of your parents who’ve brought you up. It’s very right the current bunch of kids is an ungrateful and shameless lot. It hurts me to say you’re no different.”

Rukmini tried to protest, “But how does who I marry and live with make a difference to your life?”

“Did you hear that, Geetha? “Your life”? Can you believe it? In a matter of five years of MBBS, from our life it’s become your life?”

Seeing no chance of her parents letting up, Rukmini had left her plate on the table to let it listen to her parents’ wisdom, but also to say something. Something that Geetha could hear only today… eleven years later.

“Don’t worry, everything will be alright”, Ratnam had said to a visibly disturbed and angry Geetha…

One whole discordant week later she had asked them again if they could reconsider their stance. “If you disapprove today I’m never going to ask again.” But, that once she had appeared quite calm. This time around they tried to be a bit tactful.
Ratnam started, “Okay, if you insist we can try…”

“No, there’ll be no need for that as I’m not insisting. I was just asking. And, I’ve decided to do my internship at Ramani General Hospital if that’s alright with you.” she had cut him off mid-sentence. She had said that quite resolutely. Of course her joining RGH was a small trade-off to them. She had appeared a bit lost for a few weeks but then everything had gotten alright. But what had made them feel most relieved was that Rukmini had never brought up Mukesh again.

Right now, Geetha could not make out if things had actually gotten alright back then, or her husband and she had just become so blinded by relief that they could not see their once bubbly daughter’s reclusive demeanor. Rukmini had stopped saying “no” to anything they said. But now it all made sense to her. Right now before her was the person she had started admiring the most in all the ways she could admire a person. And the person who she had torn away from her daughter only to deliver her to a dog. A dog whose only qualifications were that he was a green card-holder, had a stethoscope hung about his neck instead of a collar, and that he could bark. Bark in Malayalam, that is. She so much missed the bliss of denied ignorance right now.

Mukesh, still staring at the plates remembered how just when the final year results were out and both Rukmini and he had cleared the exams, she had told him about her parents’ unexpected disapproval, and that she would not go against her their wishes. She had declared that they were no more a couple. Mukesh could not believe all this was happening. ‘Impossible’ in his system of thoughts was more likely than what was happening right before his eyes. Till yesterday they were inseparable and today, the very same girl was telling him to go his separate way for no apparent fault of his own. He had tried to reason out.

“Rukmini believe me, this was just the initial outburst. Anyways, we have 3 to 4 more years before we get married. By that time, I’ll at least have a secure career under my belt.” “Do you really think you’d be happy without me?”

“Is my happiness that important to life? Is that all I should care about?” “Besides, if I go against their wishes, their jibes, their emotional torture will always come to haunt me. I could see the contempt they held for you even without meeting you. I could see it in their eyes. It was me who’d seen it all. I won’t be able to bear that my very own parents hold those feelings for you. The single person I loved with all I had. If someone were to ask me, who I was, I would’ve with all my conviction pointed to you. Mukesh, you’re my purpose. Your love is my accomplishment. You define me. In some ways, you are what I think about myself. You’re my definition. And for you, they held the basest contempt”. Mukesh could only look at her. “Mukesh, you know me. My decision is final. I know it’s not your fault, but neither do I have a choice. I can’t even say sorry. ‘Cuz saying sorry would be asking for your forgiveness and I know what I’m doing to you can’t be forgiven.” His attempts at reasoning out were futile. He knew her and he knew her tolerance for pain. He could recall Rukmini allowing suturing of half-inch laceration without local anesthesia.[1]

A week later she had told him that she was going to pursue her internship at RGH, and not at the Matunga Medical College’s Hospital. He had nodded his head with the same numbness with which he had let her slip out of his life. He had a choice in none. Months had passed. They had wished each others on their birthdays, met at the end-of-the-year-function. By then, even those briefest of moments of communication had ceased, and for both of them any instance of contact was mired only in unavoidable but inexpressible pain.

Despite the deep hurt that the bereavement had caused, he could never bring himself to hate the most wonderful person called Rukmini. The only way to forget her was to be reborn. In that one life he could have never forgotten his love. The only solution lay in his brain, and his brain had complied. He forgot her as if she never existed. He remembered Rukmini and the time he had spent with her. But he remembered it as some other life, not the one he was living right now. He only wished for her happiness, wherever she would be. And he also knew the way she had loved him it would not be possible. His love was like a train zipping on tracks. If the tracks end suddenly, the train derails, there is rubble all around and the accident leaves an indestructible memorabilia of pain and regret. But what happens when it is not the tracks that end but the time and space itself end? One moment there is this train, this destruction, and next moment there’s nothing? Or rather, there is no next moment. Emptiness so complete, not just of space, but even of time, that everywhere where there was motion now there is stillness.

In that emptiness he had started in a new direction. He was so dazed, he did not know where he was headed. His knowledge of geometry told him that out of 360 degrees the ground beneath him had to offer, he could choose any direction at random, and it would never be the same path. But, little did he know that even the random direction that he had chosen was to lead him in the same line, only with opposite direction this time. So here he was headed exactly where he had started from eleven years back. Now he was standing in the tracks and watching as the train was zipping towards him. He could not move. Why did time and space have to return as suddenly as they had disappeared? Could he not stop the train determined to raze him out of his present? “Why do I need to think of Rukmini now? She’s my past. What have I got to do with her?” He was paralyzed. He could not move. He could only think of Rukmini. Rukmini with her two small kids. Nowhere to go, nothing to do. Rukmini putting up a brave front against all the cruelties of life. Rukmini without a past, and now, without a future. Rukmini letting needle pass through her lacerated skin, without anesthesia, without a grimace, without a whimper… The same Rukmini who could shut her mind in times of pain, and eyes, and ears, and everything with it.


Chapter 3. The Stirring[Contents]
It was four in the afternoon, and both Mukesh and Geetha heard a most welcome sound of the phone ringing. It was his secretary. “Sir, Mridula madam has come outside. Shall I send her in?” He gradually came to his senses, and his present started to leak into his consciousness. He was married, he had a wife, and they were scheduled to watch a movie according to yesterday night’s plan. He was so relieved to get a lucky break from this deadlock. “Oh yes, please do send her in.” He said in somewhat a cracked voice. He utilized the next few moments to drink some water and find his voice.

There was a gentle knock on the door.

“Come in, Mridula”.

Mridula was an ophthalmologist specializing in retinal surgery in the same hospital. They had been married for two years now. And, their life was just perfect. There was nothing that they ever did or could conceal from each other. Their love for each other would not permit them to. On entering she was taken a bit aback seeing a stranger sitting in the patient’s chair. But she quickly regained her composure. But she smiled sheepishly to the matronly looking female and began to sit on the couch across the lady when Mukesh got up and introduced the lady to Mridula. “Well, this is Mrs. Geetha, if you remember. I’d told you a few times.”

Mridula hesitated a bit, but had a vague remembrance of allusion to a “really sweet lady”. “Hello, Mrs. Geetha! How do you do?” But, Mukesh broke in, “I came to know just today that she happens to be the mother of Rukmini Nair, I’d told you about a few times.”

Being in the medical profession Mridula had quite perfected the art of not letting her facial muscles speak in place of obedient voice. But in this moment her skill had failed her. She stared absently for a moment, looked at Mukesh, and then regained her voice, “Oh! Then, it’s even nicer meeting you.”

“Am fine, hmm…” Geetha struggled a bit.

“Oh, I’m sorry, her name is Mridula Sharma” “And she’s my wife”, he came to Geetha’s aid, who had been so lost in her thoughts that most of all she had heard up till now had evaded her attention.

“So, silly of me! Yes, am fine. Thank you very much. And, the pleasure is mine, too. It is so nice to see such a delightful couple” And she actually meant that. She had been married for more than thirty years when Ratnam had died; it was not easy for her to miss the undercurrents. And it was precisely those undercurrents that made her aware of how deep understanding the man and woman standing right before her must share. Mridula knew about Rukmini. She was shocked to hear her name, and the subtlest batting of eyelid by Mukesh had comforted Mridula. And, Mridula was a “Sharma”—non-Maharashtrian, with her independent identity still respected by her husband. And they were happy, and happily still married.

“Oh, God!” she thought, “Why did you have to do all this to me on the very same day? You could have given me some time to recover? I know you can beat me in the game of life any day, any time. But did you need to end it all this way? In straight sets? Rukmini gets divorced—6-0; the person I so dote on now was my daughter’s love who I had rejected—6-0; and now, he is happily married to a woman from entirely different cultural background—6-0? I know it is a game for you, but me? For me, it is not game. It is my life. And it hurts.”

Mukesh had pulled out the scan plates and put them back in their cardboard envelope. “Well Mrs. Geetha, Mridula and I had decided to go for the 4:30-movie show, and if we don’t make a move right now we hazard getting late.” He waited for a response, but her face was as blank as the display panel, brightly illuminated but nothing to show with those scan plates now removed. So he continued, “Any way, I don’t think you’ll need to make an appointment for one whole month.” How could she disagree with the last thing? “It is not about need, Mukesh”, she thought to herself, “The question is will I be able to make an appointment with you.”

“Alright, doctor. But I was thinking if you do not mind, could you please recommend some spine specialist close to my place in Chembur? I think, that would save me the trouble of traveling so long all the way from Chembur to Dadar.”

Mukesh thought for a moment, “No problems, I know one Dr. Madan Khurana. He’s a good friend of mine, and I’ll let him know about you. He has a clinic in Matunga. Would that be alright?”[2], he asked with a forced smile.

“Thanks a lot! Yes, that would be really nice.” She prayed, “Please, please show me something evil about this man. I can’t stand his goodness. Please, God…”

Almost reading her thoughts Mukesh added, “It was really nice being able to care for you, and before I leave, if you don’t mind could I please have Rukmini’s number?” He said that with an unshaken voice, knowing fully well, that if stares could burn, Mridula’s would have incinerated him right there.

Geetha, a bit puzzled, but too dazed to think much, complied and gave the phone number. They all moved out in silence. Mukesh and Mridula moved to the parking lot, and yet the silence was not broken. Mridula knew that Mukesh was a very passionate and loyal lover, and even before their marriage, he had revealed to her about his past relation with Rukmini and how it had ended. She had asked him if he missed her. His reply was, “No, for me she is nonexistent. If the most deathly thing about death is its irreversibility, then my past is the dead-most thing you could ever see. No, I don’t miss her. I don’t even think about her. I can’t even remember when I’d last thought about her.” He was honest and she was convinced. But why was she feeling so insecure? Mukesh had not done anything to invite her suspicion. In fact, had he wanted, he could have asked her to wait outside. As it is the meeting was about to end. “If he wanted he could have asked for Rukmini’s number in my absence.” Her head was spinning, and it was only her feminine instinct that was telling her about something more than what met her eye.

Finally she gave in and broke the heavy silence as they were driving to the movie hall, “Mukesh, what happened? Is everything alright? I mean everything’s alright with Rukmini? Or did you ask for her number just like that; to catch up with her?”

“I don’t do anything just like that. You know the way things stand I don’t need to catch up. And, yes, not everything is alright with her. She got divorced from her husband.”

“Are you going to console her?”

“I’ll call her up and decide if it’s consolation that she needs.”

“But I don’t think your call will make any difference to her circumstance.” She tried to dissuade him from calling in her own subtle way. Mridula was not being cunning in the conventional sense; in fact, she herself was being torn by two opposite conclusions that her instinct and her experience were leading her to; both pulling her in opposite directions; both–equally powerful. She knew her husband to be extremely loyal and devoted to her. She knew she herself was beautiful, but never did she entertain this delusion that she was the most beautiful. And yet she had never seen Mukesh falling for anyone else even for the shortest while, in spite of apparent overtures from countless female colleagues and subordinates. She knew she ought to trust Mukesh at this time. In fact, support him. But what she had seen in Mukesh’s eyes today was something new. She could not quite place it, but knew that it was… may be, desperation. Yes, desperation. Mukesh was a very content person and desperation had never been quite becoming of him. She was feeling guilty too–to doubt her husband who she knew for more than four years now, and to whom she was married for two years. And more importantly, one who’d been supremely devoted to her.

“Let’s see”. Mukesh said flatly.

Movie was the last thing on their mind, but both understood that sitting in the movie hall was the easiest way to remain incommunicado without furthering the physical distance. And thus they sat for the Surrakh Khan-starrer “Main abhi bhi hoon na”, but that was irrelevant to them right now. The scenes on the screen were no different from hypnogogic hallucinations,[3] and the sound was no different from background noise.

Their dinner in the nearby restaurant was not very different, but here they did not have the luxury of loud songs and color-saturated visuals to distract them. They had resigned to their uncomfortable coexistence. When Mukesh had come to know of Rukmini’s fate, he had not imagined that he would feel alright so soon. Yes, he was feeling alright. For he knew what he wanted to do, why and how to do it—the only three questions that he thought to be of importance before deciding to do something difficult. He was not unaware of Mridula’s discomfort. But unlike in the past, for this once he decided to not take her in confidence. For what he felt for Rukmini was inexplicable. He was sure in his heart it was not love. How could he define something in terms of what it was not? Or rather, what all it was not? He could not. He knew if someone were to tell him that Rukmini was his past, and he had no business thinking of her miseries… they would be right—cold reasoning. And he was sure that any discussion on his part with Mridula on this issue would only lead to confrontation. But what he feared even worse was if there were to be no confrontation. If Mridula meekly submitted to his misadventure, he would feel he was battering her, not physically of course, but still battering. Confrontation or no confrontation, the cold reasoning would win and what he had in his heart would die. No, it would have to be killed. He was sure it would not die. Were it capable of dying by itself he would not have been finding the same matar paneer he so relished, so tasteless today. Mridula had tried to bring some cheer into their dining experience, and though he could not appreciate the humor in her accounts of patient encounters, he did appreciate the effort she was putting to keep things normal… outside as well as inside. He loved her for that. No, he just loved her. Not once did he doubt that. Today was no different. The problem was only of tiding over the current crisis. Thus he decided to not discuss anything… with Mridula, that is.

At night Mridula had just snuggled into his arms once and said “I love you, Mukesh.” He could only muster, “I know, darling”, for he knew what he was to do in days to come would make “I love you, too” sound such a lie. So, for the first time they turned their backs to each other and slept away.

The next day Mukesh called up his best friend, Sudeep. Sudeep had been his class mate in the graduation days, and their friendship had weathered the long years. “Sudeep, I’d like to meet you in the evening”.

He told Sudeep of what had happened. This was a welcome break for Mukesh. Even though he had sorted out things in his mind, verbalizing them had made him feel lot lighter. After a patient hearing Sudeep tried to show the impracticality of Mukesh’s plans.

“I know you so it’s not difficult for me to understand what you’re saying. But think of Mridula, however understanding she might be, she can’t bear to see you go all the way to the U.S. to meet your ex…”

“I know.”

“The hell you know. You’re going to put your marriage in jeopardy, I’m telling you.”

“I am.”

“But why?”

“To absolve myself of all guilt.”

“What guilt? Are you mad? What wrong have you done?”

“I can’t explain.”

“You’ve gone mad. No wonder you can’t explain.”

“I’ll go madder if I don’t go.”

“What can I do? I can’t restrain you physically.”

“You don’t have to.”

“You want me to tell anything to Mridula bhabhi?”

“No, I don’t want to put the burden of justification on you, for something that’s apparently not justifiable, and done by me.”

That night he had eaten the dinner alone. Mridula had understood that Mukesh would not join, so she went alone to sleep. But sleep evaded her closed eyes. She was saturated with numbness… merely tossing in the bed. Tossing kept her from being still, but did not provide her much needed translation to escape. She hated Mukesh for his coldness. Would she be able to forgive Mukesh if he were to tell her that he no longer loved her, but loved Rukmini instead? The thought was so frightening. She only half-entertained it. Thinking of answering it was impossible.

Meanwhile Mukesh went to the balcony outside his bedroom and made a phone call.


“Hello Rukmini? Mukesh here.” Years of separation had not somehow reduced their comfort in any way. It was as if Rukmini had never stayed away from Mukesh.

“Mukesh? What happened? Why did you call?”

“I heard you’ve got divorced. What are you going to do now?”

“What am I going to do now? What am I going to do now about what?”

“About your life. About your kids. What are you going to do?”

“My life, my kids are none of your business”

“I did not ask you whether your life and kids are my business or not. I asked you what are you going to do with your life. How are you going to bring up your kids?”

“I haven’t thought.”

“I’m coming”

“What! Are you mad? You have a wife for God’s sake”

“I’m coming. I’d be reaching New York twenty-four hours from now. If you come to receive me, it’ll be less trouble for me to find you.”

“Okay, tell me your flight number.” She realized her stubbornness that had weathered life was no match for the resolute voice at the other end.

He returned to the bedroom and placed his cell phone in the bed and went to the bathroom to see if cold water could wash away any misery off his face. To see if he had it in him to tell Mridula of his conversation with Rukmini and his plans. He returned only with this realization that everything was so deep–the love, the guilt, the concern, the wish to open up, but the water had just rolled over off his face. He returned with this memory of not wanting to look at the person he saw in the mirror. When he returned he was surprised… satisfied to see that the phone had shifted in position ever so slightly, but it had. But what certainly he would have not liked had he known was that Mridula was crying uncontrollably, and silently, with a kerchief in her mouth.

He woke up early in the morning and started getting ready for his flight. Mridula had by now stopped pretending that everything was normal, but yet her curiosity got the better of her. “Where are you going Mukesh so early in the morning?”

“New York.”

“You didn’t tell me you had a conference there?”

“I’m going to meet Rukmini.” He turned his gaze away from her.

“Oh!” is all she could muster. “When would you be returning?”

“I don’t know.”

She was not sure if she had more questions. Or if she wanted to know the answers. She had become so numb. She did not realize what she was letting go away from her. Why had she acted like this? Why had she not put her foot down? Did she trust Mukesh so much? No. Did she trust the strength of their love so much? No. So, why? “Because there’s no point. I can’t hold on to Mukesh only on the basis of reasoning or appeal of a piece of paper called marriage certificate. If he truly stopped loving me, how could I’ve made him mine? If I were to force him, our life would become greater hell. I’d end up being merely his compromise. And, I don’t want to be someone’s compromise.”

She started thinking of all the times they had spent together. Was it all over? If she had problems she used to discuss them with Mukesh, what was she to do if Mukesh himself was that problem? She had nobody to talk to who could understand her feelings.

But did she really need to think of their relationship in such glowing terms? What was good about it if it could not stand one bad news? Why was she forcing herself to think of Mukesh as nice? Was she afraid to conclude that her choice was wrong? Her perspective was wrong? That she was more wrong than she had been wronged? Was Mukesh so good after all? And she kept on thinking…

During his flight Mukesh was very peaceful. Peaceful not because everything was sorted out, but because he had stopped thinking about the consequences of what he was doing. Maybe his brain had exhausted its store of neurotransmitter for anxiety, if such a thing existed. And he knew when to stop thinking. When thoughts keep on playing in the mind in never-ending loops, they do not create any new conclusions or understanding; they create emotions—emotions that one cannot handle. Though he was not sure of others, he knew he could not handle them. So he shut his mind and let his instincts take over, and his time in flight was spent in peace; eight hours of peace.

When he reached New York, as promised by Rukmini she was there to receive him. They had chosen a nearby restaurant where they could share a meal.

“Tell me Rukmini, what have you planned for your life?”

“Nothing. I told you, right?”

“How do you plan to provide for your children?”

“I’ve been waiting at a restaurant, and am making two thousand bucks a month. That should be enough.”

“You’re waiting?” He was incredulous. “You know how overqualified you’re for that job?”

“Do you really think the position I’m in I’ve the luxury to bargain my salary on the basis degrees I earned in India, and which have no real value in this country?” Rukmini was a pediatrician, but the Indian medical degrees were not recognized in U.S., and since her husband had made it sufficiently clear that he did not want his wife to work night shifts and emergencies, she did not clear her U.S. licensing exam. “Aiyyo, you will be living like a queen with him. He is a cardiothoracic surgeon there. What is the need for you to work?” Geetha had reasoned. And she had not said “no”.

“Why don’t you come back to India?”

“I’d just thought of that option, but I don’t think I’d be able to live in India. Besides, I won’t be able to bear the presence of my mom. Though, I’d never let it known to her before I told her about my divorce, I just hate her.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.”

“Why sorry?”

“You’ve really not come out of your past. And, here I am, having the time of my life. Each and every thing that I thought I wanted to be happy, I have. Things that I never thought of wanting, I have. By the way, I just happened to meet your mom. She’s actually quite worried about you.”

“You know her?”

“In fact, she and I were quite intimate. She’s been one of my regular patients. And, I can tell you she’d felt really guilty when she came to know that I was your “ex” she’d rejected.”

“What’s the use of all that remorse? What good will her guilt bring to me? She’s such a bb.. I’m so sorry. My culture doesn’t permit, but I can’t help it.”

“I can’t believe Rukmini, you’ve accumulated so much anger in you. Why did you do this to yourself?”

“I can only remember her as one who deprived me of the only person I could love in my lifetime. What can I say?”

“Well, I’m sorry, but I don’t love you anymore. I hope that doesn’t hurt you.”

“No, I don’t think that can hurt me after all that I’ve been through. So, why have you come then? If you don’t love me?” She asked with an edge. “Is it to enjoy seeing how I am suffering? I can’t believe you…”

“Rukmini, you really think that? Was your taste so bad? Did you really love a person who was so vindictive? Is that all you remember of me?”

“I’m sorry. I’m just filled with so much rage. It just explodes. Anywhere, at anyone I’m comfortable with. And that includes very few people.”

“I came here to take you away to India. I can’t bear to see you suffer. If you ask me why I came here to help you out, I really don’t have an answer. But, I just can’t stand the guilt of seeing you suffer, and me being so happy. I know when we’d separated, we’d separated our ways, too, and I’d nothing to do with your life, and you, nothing with mine. I realized that while we were in love, my entire life was so centered on your happiness, that the want to see you happy had become a reflex. Our relationship ceased and the love died, but the responsibility remained. So many people had thought that I must hate you. But no, you’re such a beautiful person. How could I ever hate you? One doesn’t always feel guilty only about what one does, one could also feel guilty for things that they don’t do. Suffer in my case. I’m not suffering and that’s making me guilty. When we parted we were like two seeds from the same fruit; seeds that were dispersed by winds of change to different places. One is thriving in a beautiful garden as the most delightful tree, and the other is withering away a shrub in atrocious desert. When we parted, we both were meant to be happy. This disparity was killing me. How could such a thing be allowed to happen? How would I not feel guilty to stand meekly and allow you to wither away? How does this world allow, or rather, do such things to you? A person like you doesn’t deserve to be unhappy. If anything, I came here to absolve myself of guilt. Guilt of being happier than you. It’s my selfish reason. If I don’t help you now, and know that somewhere else, somewhere in this far corner of the world you’re suffering, I know, I’d never be able to live peacefully.”

This monologue had seen Rukmini slip into her past. She could not help as her past memories were dissolving the shell she had built around herself.

“Rukmini, I know you had loved me. But, why did you allow yourself to become a doormat? What was the need to take all the things lying down? You could’ve easily been happier had you wanted.”

“Mukesh, don’t ask me these questions. I really want to forget my past. I know I’ve abused my life a lot. I’d decided to live life only with you. I don’t know why I did this to myself. But once I lost you, I wanted to remain unhappy. Losing you was not right, and I wanted to keep on blaming them for all this wrong done to me. I didn’t dare to feel happy ‘cuz had I felt happy, losing you would have no more been a wrong thing. I’d thought keeping myself unhappy would keep them guilty, and in pain. But, the most unfortunate part is I still don’t know who that them is. Rituals, culture, traditions, narrow-mindedness, shallowness, prejudices, inflated ego. I suffered so much, and I still don’t know who that them is. Maybe, that them was my parents. I had started hating them, and I wanted reasons strong enough to keep on hating them. I stand here, with my half life spent, mostly in misery, and yet none of them have yet come to say “sorry”. No one has said sorry yet. I shouldn’t have done this to myself. But now I also have my kids…” She was sobbing by now. They were in a restaurant and that did not matter to them. That happens when the very fabric of your being is laid bare. That happens when you see yourself for who really you are. Then you are not afraid of “what others will think”.

“Mukesh, I’m so sorry. I have no right to make your happy life miserable. Had I been happy today, you’d have not been so disturbed. Mukesh, I want to undo this all. Can it be done? I want to make up for all the happiness I’ve missed in my life. I don’t want my children to suffer.”

“Come to India with me. I’ve planned everything for you. And, knowing you, I know what happiness means to you. Come with me and you’ll never regret.”
“Excuse me Mukesh, I think, I’ll just freshen up.” When she returned, she was visibly better. “But, what about the visa and other documents for Shruthi and Shashank?” Shruthi was her five-year old daughter, and Shashank, two-year old son.

“Visa is not a problem for doctors anymore. Hope you’ve not forgotten that you’re a pediatrician!” Mukesh winked. “India is really short of doctors, so the Indian government is going to welcome you with open arms.” He watched in delight as he saw her lips and cheeks were preparing to conjure up a smile, and reminding him why he had fallen madly in love with her in the first place. Though he faintly doubted the the past tense binding the unheard words that had formed in his mind.

“Besides, the immigration laws have been relaxed quite a bit for the women who get divorced in foreign lands to avoid their exploitation.” By now what he saw was positively a smile. First one since he had landed in New York ninety minutes back. “In fact, I’ve completed all the formalities on your behalf, and we could leave in next two hours. We only need to fill in the particulars of your kids in an online form.”[4] It was also her first smile in eleven years.

Mridula’s mind was racing in so many directions. She cursed her love for Mukesh that was so strong when she herself was so weak. She could not think what she actually wanted to think. She looked at her watch. It was 1.45pm; Shipra was late. She looked around; the coffee place had changed so much! When was the last time she had been here? She saw a couple getting cozy with each other, giggling, holding hands… definitely in love. Looking at them, she slipped into her past, yet again, for the zillionth time since yesterday.

It was as if yesterday that she had met Mukesh for the first time. She had come for an interview for the post of a vitreo-retinal surgeon at the same hospital where Mukesh had joined as a budding spinal surgeon. From the first look she could tell there was something different about him. She thought his glance had lingered a little longer than was required. Or was it just her nervousness that was getting her worked up? He was so calm. Was there anyone like him? He sounded very warm, too. His simple “hello!” had erased half the anxiety for the interview. And, when he offered her water saying “I think you should have some water. You’re looking so tense. Don’t worry, and all the best!” she had one more reason to want the job where this man was working. With the job she got what she had wanted then. Their initial conversations were quite characteristically just limited to “Good mornings” and “hellos”, and sometimes just the nodding of heads and perfunctory smiles. But she never realized when those smiles had become increasingly subconscious, and at one point, even reflexive.

Once when the two subordinate ophthalmologists were on leave she had to coordinate with him on many trauma cases. Workplace and lunchtime gossiping were becoming rampant everywhere about the growing intimacy that they had been sharing. But, she felt at such ease with Mukesh, that it took workplace gossip for her to realize that she was in love with him! In a few weeks’ time they went out for a coffee. It was this very place. Some more weeks went by and he had proposed marriage to her. She was surprised to know that even Mukesh had found something special in her right from the day of interview, but it was not her looks or how she talked, but her inherent goodness. Mukesh was very impressed that she had been so nice to her fellow interviewees, not thinking of them as competition, but just fellow humans. What Mukesh found impressive in her is what had swept her off her feet, and she had taken no time to say “yes”. Now she was wondering if she should have taken more time. When he had told her everything about Rukmini was it too soon for her to have believed him? Was she so enamored by his charm to have missed the mad passion of this man? Was it too soon for him to have forgotten her… Would it also be too soon if she would try to forget him? But one thing she was sure was that her choice of venue to meet Shipra was wrong.

Mridula decided she ought to take control of her life. She needed to be firm, not this weenie piece of furniture that she had allowed herself to become in name of trust and love for Mukesh who did not spare even a single thought before he left her stranded alone to suffer. Shipra, her friend from childhood, could help her. Shipra always used to tell Mridula how she ought to take off the rosy glasses she used to wear all the time. The same Shipra who always used to see the world in black and in white, and not the grays in between; color of rose did not even fall in that spectrum flanked by white and black. Today, more than ever, she needed her vitriol; vitriol on how the world had gone to the dogs–that Mukesh was just one of those, how life is meaningless, how men seem alright before marriage, but how they always seek “variety” later, how Mridula should’ve always been careful about Mukesh, and how she should chuck away Mukesh from her life…

“Mridu, hi!” the voice of Shipra brought her back.

“You’re late, Shipra. But I can’t complain, at least you’ve kept your word and come. I think I should get used to people not keeping their word.”

“My God, Mridu! You’re looking bad. So much has happened and you’re telling me now? I’d always doubted how a man could be so good. Mukesh is a male, and by default he’s a bastard.” Shipra reflected on her outburst. “I’m sorry I think I should restrain my langua…”

“Shipra don’t stop! Please! That’s what I wanted to hear from you. From where I stand, I can’t tell you how much I envy you. How I wish I could always convey my feelings, my reservations, my anger. And swear…”

“Mridu, I feel so sorry for you. I can’t believe he’s done this to you. You’ve always been so nice to him. You’re so beautiful. What was the need for him to go away to that bitch? In spite of my hatred for men, I’d never thought this would happen to you. I myself never married for how men are, but I always wanted you to be happy. Nobody wants to be proven wrong, but in your case I wanted to be proven wrong.”

“Shipra, I could never understand when you used to tell me that there is no purpose to life. But now I think I’ve started figuring out what you meant. How do you manage to be so happy in life?”

“When you know there’s no real purpose to life that takes away all the tensions. There are no responsibilities, no obligations. You can live for what pleases you. Be a hedonist, Mridu, and you’ll know what I mean. Try to enjoy life ‘cuz you get it only once. Try to collect as many experiences as you can. Don’t stagnate your life.” Shipra looked at her watch and continued, “Any way Mridu, I’ve to go to my office. I’m already fifteen minutes late. Just cheer up, don’t take life so seriously. Catch you in the evening.”

“Thanks Shipra! You really opened my eyes. Broken my rose glasses. Yeah, don’t get late for the office. Bye.”

“There’s no purpose to life. Enjoy life? I’ve already enjoyed all that was there to enjoy in life. What would I do now? I’ve experienced everything that was to be experienced. So what next? Nothing. Don’t take life so seriously? Wow, I never thought the answer could be so simple…”


Chapter 4. The Dissolution[Contents]
Mukesh’s cell phone was switched off during the flight. As soon as he switched it on, there was a message from Sudeep, which he could not understand:

“Come to the hosp asap. dere’s an emerg.”

He could not gather much from the message, but could only make out that it must be something really unpleasant for Sudeep to have messaged him knowing completely well that he would not be able to read the message till he landed back in India. Mukesh panicked. He had planned to explain Mridula everything on his return. He was very worried for her now. Why could he not foresee that she could do something silly? He called Sudeep immediately but he had switched off his cell phone. He next called Mridula. The phone kept on ringing, each unanswered ring raising his pulse by the dozen.

He immediately rushed to the hospital with Rukmini and what he saw further shocked him. He tried calling Mridula yet again. This time as he was expecting his call was answered by her just coming out after taking a leisurely bath.

“Hello Mridula, listen…”

“Mukesh, you liar, you dog, you son of a bitch! How dare you call me up now?” She slurred. Drinking vodka all alone was her idea of nothing. It was her first time, and little that she had had, was not going to show instant effect.

“Mridula, there’s no time for all that right now. I am at the hospital. Mrs. Geetha Nair has been admitted. I just came to know she’d taken an overdose of cerebrazolam[5]. Please don’t waste any time and come here.”

When Mridula reached the hospital, everyone was surrounding a still Geetha in her bed. As still as anybody could be. As still as dead. She was dead. She had entered a deep coma initially, but gradually all her organs started getting relaxed. They all wanted a rest… from a miserable life that had served no real purpose. It was learnt that Raman was rather busy and not in town when all this happened. It would have been possible to save her had someone found her earlier in their house. But it was more than 24 hours before it was discovered that she was not picking up the phone. She had called up Raman just before taking those pills.

“Ram, I just wanted to talk to you so I called you up.”

“Is everything alright, mom?”

“Everything will be alright, Ram.”

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing. I just hope everything gets alright with Roox.”

“Yes mom, I’m sure everything’s gonna be will be alright with her.”

“Also, Ram take care of yourself. Make sure everything you do, keeps you happy. That’s all I wish.”

“Mom, I can’t understand what you’re saying. Could I just call you after five minutes? There’s an urgent announcement to be made.”

“No, there will be no need. That’s all I wanted to say. Take care. Bye.”

“Bye, mom. See you soon.”

She pressed the red button on the phone and popped her first pill. First among the twenty-seven she had.
Mridula reached the hospital along with Shipra. Then she saw Mukesh and Rukmini. Together. When Mridula had entered the hospital, she had planned to confront Mukesh, but the turn of events was too shocking for her. Even in her rage and mildly inebriated state, she did not forget what a human death meant.

“I’m sorry Rukmini, we’re meeting in such circumstance. What had happened?”
Mukesh handed her a letter.

Roox, I cannot tell you how am I feeling. I am your parent. It was always my duty to care for your happiness. You grew up right before me, and yet, I could never understand you. I could never understand what happiness meant to you. I could never trust your judgment in people. I was supposed to keep you happy. But, but I sold you away to a butcher. And you did not shout, you did not cry. You just allowed your very being to be cut away, piece by piece. You shed more blood than I shed tears. All because of me. All because of my fixed ideas about people. All because I cared more for “what people would say”, rather than caring for what you wanted. I cannot believe now that I did not allow you to marry Mukesh. I now realize why you had fallen in love with him. It is not possible to get a person so transparent, so helpful, so understanding, so nice—perfect in every sense of the term.

Now you are divorced. You hate me. That was one good thing. At least your hatred allayed my one fear. I cannot forgive myself, but had you not hated me, I would have known you were dead. And that I killed you. At least the hatred in you and you are alive.

I could not have borne to see you again…with your kids struggling. I know Mukesh would get you back from your hell. I am a coward. All my life I did not ask you if you were happy. I was afraid of the answer. I know dying now is cowardice, but I do not know if living on would be courage, or would it be shamelessness.

Again, I do not have the courage to face this life knowing completely well, it is me who has made my daughter moribund. Half dead. One half killed by me. The other half waiting to be butchered away.

Just like I took the easiest step possible not bothering to ask if you were happy, I again take the easiest way out by not having to see all of this that is coming.
Ram, I know you will feel terribly lonely without me. But I am happy I managed to keep your life unspoilt. Do forgive me if possible. But I still cannot believe I managed to make so many lives miserable in one wasted lifetime of mine.

Right now my only consolation is that whatever I did, I was destined to do. I was merely God’s agency in realizing his unfathomable designs. So, here I come back to your inscrutable yet infinite justice. I come back to you, God…

Mridula was taken aback. Her pain was nothing. It felt like a tickle compared to the pain of actually losing a person. She could imagine how it must have felt to Geetha. No wonder she committed suicide.

Geetha’s last rites were performed with just the same persons in attendance who were present besides her dying in in the hospital.

Rukmini went to her house with Raman. Mukesh returned to his house with Mridula. The atmosphere was somber, but it did surprise Mridula that Mukesh had come back to her. Why was it so?

They both were having their lunch together, and then Mukesh spoke up.

“Mridula, I’m so sorry. I know you had suffered a lot in these two days. I wanted to tell you so many things, but I was sure you won’t be able to understand. In fact, I myself could hardly understand what was going on in my mind, much less justify what I was setting out to do. I’d thought I knew myself. That was a mistake. To assume that one knows oneself completely is also a fallacy. One can never be sure how one would react in extreme situations. Rukmini’s divorce was one such extreme situation. What I felt for her was an intense sense of duty. Duty to help her find happiness. I was feeling so guilty of being happy with you, and she suffering innumerable assaults at the hands of life. I know I had no social or legal responsibility to help her. But I believe you can understand that citing lack of social and legal responsibilities would have only been lame excuses for inaction. At the end of my relationship with Rukmini, I had been so passive. I’d let her go. I should have been firmer. I should have pressed her to be more defiant to her parents. But I respected her and valued her judgment. Sometimes, I so wish that I could just slap her, do anything to have stopped her from committing a living suicide. But, I respected her. That’s such a lame word for what I was…passive. I allowed her to slip out of my life, and life to slip out of her. I tore away the last shred of love that had once wreathed my being, but could not filter out the need to see her happy that had permeated my entire soul. With time, the need precipitated. It became a residua from my past life. Just ‘cuz everything was so still I could choose to ignore it, but the moment there was slight agitation everything became so turbid, so hazy. I became confused. I needed to sort things out. I needed to do something about that residua. This was not the time to ignore and let things happen by themselves. Had I been passive this once, I know the dust would have settled and the guilt would have precipitated once again to the bottom of my mind. But wouldn’t it rise again and again making life miserable? It would have surely. So the residua required intense stirring. Making it dissolve forever. The stirring was difficult for sure, but I’m happy it’s now over. I had to do something about her life. She had become a zombie. I had to kill the zombie and raise the human in her. Her appetite for self-destruction had become insatiable.”

Mukesh looked at Mridula for the first time in his monologue. Finally, he had mustered the courage to look her in the eye. Eyes that were moist by now.

“You remember Mridula two nights back when you had said that you loved me, and I’d merely replied “I know”?” How could Mridula have forgotten that! “I had not said “I love you, too” not because I was unsure of my feelings for you. No, that was never the case. I just didn’t know how my “I love you” would sound to you in light of what I was about to do.” Mridula had been crying now uninhibited. “So Mridula, now I can say without any qualms, and with as much confidence as I always felt in the past that I love you very much, Mridula. I love you.”

“I’m so sorry Mukesh. I doubted you, and I doubted your love for me. But believe me the way you were behaving there was nothing else that I could’ve thought about your actions. I now truly understand how much had I loved you when I’d come so close to losing you. And still I can’t tell you how much I love you. You’re just perfect.”
“Thanks Mridula! Those words mean a lot to me.” That moment they had embraced each other with a passion they never knew they had in them. Life was coming back to normal for them. And a normal life meant outstanding issues.

“When’s she going back to the U.S.?”

“She’s come back for good. She’s not going back. In fact, she’ll be working here in our Saturday clinic. But instead, I’ve planned it to be a fulltime clinic for all six days of the week, except of course for Saturdays when we’d be attending.”

Mridula was jolted to know her husband’s ex staying so close to them. But that was just her initial reaction. This time she knew better. She knew better to not doubt her husband. Much less with the renewed strength of love that she felt. She for the first time thought about Rukmini. She knew Mukesh’s taste in and judgment of people. There was every reason that Rukmini must be a wonderful person. How did she not think that! Was it Rukmini’s fault that she had come in Mukesh’s life before herself? In fact, she could imagine her misfortune, that she had to let go of Mukesh. At least she herself had the consolation that Mukesh was now hers for entire life. Was Mukesh a consolation? No, Mukesh was a treasure, not consolation. For the first time she felt terribly sorry for Rukmini…for losing Mukesh, and for what all she had suffered in her life.

She immediately called up Shipra who managed to put her feelings in most succinct manner possible: “I never knew being proven wrong could feel so good!”

At Raman’s house:

“I’m so sorry Ram. I can’t tell how I am feeling now. I never knew my those careless words could cause all this.” She started crying. Yet again.

“I can’t say Roox that what you did was not responsible for mom’s d…”. He could not bring himself to accept her death; even uttering the word to him was like killing his mom… “For what happened, but neither can I say that you’re responsible for it.”

“Ram, you’ve become so mature! I’m so happy to have you back! I don’t know if I could thank you enough. I know I’ve been guilty of creating this gulf between you and myself. I’d never wanted to return to the same place that has taken away so much from me. First Mukesh, then dad, now mom. But, at least now I have you.”

“I always knew that Dr. Mukesh Joshi was the same person who mom and dad had rejected. I just didn’t tell that to mom. I feared the worst on telling her that. She’d have resented him, and gone for treatment to someone else. And yet I couldn’t prevent this from happening…” Raman also started crying.


Chapter 5. The Clear Water (Epilogue)[Contents]
Two years later…

None of Mridula’s remotest fears had materialized. Mukesh used to meet Rukmini no more than she used to. In fact, Mridula used to meet Rukmini much more than Mukesh. They had become best friends!

Their integrity and desire to do good for their patients had made them the most fervent mutual admirers. Rukmini’s devotion to her work was admirable. She had been working as a pediatrician at their clinic charging just twenty rupees to the poor patients…on each day of the week. Also, Mridula absolutely used to dote on Shruthi and Shashank. Mukesh and Mridula’s love had kept on becoming stronger, each one wondering with each passing day, how could they love the other more than yesterday when they had concluded with mutual agreement that “it was not possible to love with any greater intensity.” Their love for each other somehow never reached its point of saturation. It just kept on becoming more and more concentrated.

As for Mukesh, there was no residua from his past life. He just realized how much he had been unknowingly burdening himself before the last two years by ignoring the issue of Rukmini.

Rukmini no longer grudged her life. She always knew she did not require too many materialistic things to be happy. She was content with her work, and happy that she was finally putting her life to some good use. She used to wonder sometime as to why she had let the happiness slip out of her life, when it was actually so easy to be happy? But, she did make up for all the happiness she had lost in a bout of madness.
Raman had just got married to a Malayali “Nair” girl, but that was because he loved her, and now was truly happy with her. Shipra was still unmarried, and secretly waiting to be proven wrong yet again, but this time by someone other than Mukesh!



1. [Back] Matunga General Hospital was famous for being ill-equiped.
2. [Back] The distance between Matunga and Dadar is hardly a couple of kilometers.
3. [Back] Hypnogogic hallucinations are the ones that one experiences just before falling asleep.
4. [Back] In 2022, all the countries had become very flexible about citizenship owing to overwhelming global collaboration in all spheres of life.
5. [Back] latest benzodiazepine in 2022, a type of sleeping pill with extreme hypnotic and respiratory depressive activity.


General Notes[Contents]
1. In India, it is quite commonplace for parents to make their children marry someone of their choice, especially considering religion, caste, mother tongue, etc.

2. ‘Malayali’ are the people belonging to the south Indian state of Kerala, as are ‘Maharashtrians’ who belong to Western state of Maharashtra.

47 thoughts on “Residua

  1. LOL, Rakesh:

    I perfectly understand your problem. You’d to merely scroll, but I’d to literally ask a couple of people to send me the link of this page to be able to access it. My browser would go crazy just loading the post’s page, and then misbehave then on!

    And yes, you can take a print-out–the story’s not copyrighted!

    And lastly, you may like to go through the blog of Dr. S, who’s a doctor in South Africa, writes really well, and without whose kind help, my replying so promptly(??) wouldn’t have been possible!

    And congratulations, too! You seem to be the first and only person to have scrolled down till the bottom! 😉

    I’d be looking forward to your response. 🙂


  2. Ok I did go to her blog and the thing that caught my fancy immediately was her profile pic 😉

    I’m really wondering, what’s she got to do with your replying promptly(??)

  3. Guess what, I did read the entire story! It was very insightful about various aspects of human nature at times, especially of the idealist kinds. The were some very witty lines and analogies and word plays (Witty doesn’t mean funny necessarily) I was thinking of quoting them when applauding in comment section. But I really forgot what exactly they were and where they were in this huge post.

    Damn my neurotransmitters for that! But then unlike Rakesh, I did understand how Dr. S helped you reply to comments by providing you a link to this comment page. Well at least some aspect of my brain functions 😛

    BTW you could have posted this story in episodes, say chapter wise. Then people more people would have actually read it.

    Besides it would have built up suspense, and they could be discuss what would happen next in the comments! And after that you could post the next chapter, pulling the proverbial cat out of the bag or maybe pulling the bag out of the cat (new proverb for doctors 😉 But then a wrong one since you are not a vet)

    I think you could attempt being published. A story about looooove, marriage, ex and Mr Goody-Two-Shoes wouldn’t usually sustain my interest.

  4. Rakesh,

    Honestly, even I’d not noticed her new profile pic till you pointed it out. To understand the situation better, you should read the comments on her latest post–‘Goodbye my love’.

    Basically, she’s the one who emailed me the link to this page where you’d typed down your original comments. 🙂

    I use a cell phone to browse, and somehow, the page on which this post is contained is so big, that the link ‘Post comment’ at the end of the post wasn’t working. Basically, each time I clicked on it, instead of this page, the same page was reloading all the time. And if you’ll see the url of the comments’ page, you’ll realize that it’s totally unrelated to the blog post’s url.

    So, I could reach this page to reply back to your comment only when Dr. S emailed me that link and I clicked on it.

    So did you finally go through her blog, or only looked at the profile pic?

    I hope my story’s not made you enter coma!


  5. Stupidosaur,

    Okay, this is going to be a long comment.

    I actually feel very hesitant to call you by your chosen nickname. I don’t know what made you choose it. I see so many mediocre and dumb people all around trying to pass off as intellectual, and here you’re with that kind of nickname! The first time I’d landed on your blog, I was very impressed with your intellience, and since then this thing has always bothered me–addressing you as Stupidosaur. Could I call you by any other name? I’m serious. BTW, there are my comments on your blog to which you’ve not replied.

    You write really well, and I’d love to read more new posts from you.

    And you might not realize, incidentally, it’s just your blog where my comments have been so short, otherwise I too suffer from long comments syndrome! You could go through my other posts and confirm for yourself 😉

    Coming to the story. You’re right that I could’ve published the chapters as separate posts. But then this story is published elsewhere on this very blog with an unchanged plot! So doing that would’ve not been alright. Also I didn’t want to delete the original post as it contained some comments.

    Also, I’m not sure how strong my story is plot-wise. Like I don’t know how strong is the surprise element ‘cuz I’ve myself written it! 🙂

    I’d not intended the suprise element to drive the story. I wanted to dissect some very complex emotions (particularly of Mukesh and Rukmini), and was hoping them to drive the story (and probably engage the reader as well).

    None of the characters in the story have tried to be idealistic. They just are that way. Mukesh is not perfect. He couldn’t understand himself well enough. Rukmini had been very impractical. She wanted to ‘internalize’ all her anger. What Mukesh and Rukmini experienced were both extremely complex emotions, and I’ve been aware of both–especially the latter, which can be even very commonly observed. A child refusing to eat food on not getting toy of his choice is fundamentally similar to what Rukmini was doing to her life. She was actually scheming against her parents! Mukesh helps her only because he was sure he couldn’t stay in peace till he relieved Rukmini of her self-inflicted pain. He helps her only because of his selfish purpose of ridding guilt.

    Mridula’s character is one I’m most dissatisfied with. She’s too weak, labile–easily swaying with the circumstances…

  6. …In the story her character has nothing additional to offer independent of her feelings for Mukesh. Geetha is far from perfect. Also, I’m dissatisfied by the fact that I didn’t describe events that led to her transformation from a seemingly strict and bounded-by-social-concerns-mom to this cheerful, carefree person. Someone who could like another person (Mukesh) so much despite having been a very self-centered person in the past. How could she open up so much! But that I expected the reader to assume to be because of her husband’s death, and mellowing because of loneliness.

    Shipra is too extreme. She’s actually an escapist–probably not having enough courage to face any hurt that life could hurl at her.

    So basically, none of the characters are idealistic. Maybe they’ve not hatched elaborate conspiracies, or deliberately tried to hurt others, or their emotions have been quite genuine. But they’ve had their weaknesses!

    And if you dare to go through this story again, I’d be glad to hear from you of the lines/analogies that you liked.

    This story actually moves not so much in the external world as it does in the mind of the characters, and not sure if it would generate enough curiosity in the reader!

    Published author! Thanks, I take it as a compliment. And honestly, I’ve no idea how good or bad this story is! Unfortunately, it’s me who’s written it, so I know the next line on each occasion, I know the entire plot–I just won’t be able to ‘experience’ it like a virgin reader. Moreover, though the prospect is very far fetched, and not entirely, untenable, getting published would require me to shed a lot of my spontaneity, and think of pleasuring the reader all the time. Not sure if I would quite enjoy it. 🙂

    Thanks a lot for your time!


  7. W.O.W. This is extremely awesome.
    And I always love happy endings so I love this story too.
    But I wish Rukmini and Mukesh had gotten together. I’m sure if Rukmini had been more persistent, she’d have gotten Mukesh. But then, I don’t know much about that stuff, the pressure and taunting and all. But I do know that if you love someone, go after him.
    But everyone’s different 🙂

    And also, suicide notes leave me terribly depressed. So I guess you’re allowed to congratulate yourself if I get nightmares tonight 😀
    Haha…good story, anyway.

  8. Hi Srishti!

    Well, thanks a lot!

    Yes, there’s a lot of disparity in parental attitude towards their kids’ prospective spouse. Some are cool as long as their kids don’t marry someone of the same gender (not unlike that virgin mobile ad!), and some are ready to kill their own son/daughter and their lover for ‘pride’ of the family.

    But I’ve not tried to send a social message across through Rukmini’s plight (though it may mistakenly seem like that). Rukmini was hurt by her parents’ contempt for Mukesh. She took contempt for Mukesh as disregard for herself. She was also hurt by the fact that her parents were much more bothered about societal concerns than her own liking. So what she does was not exactly sensible, but which she anyway admits to in the end. Rukmini’s response to the situation was on the extreme side. But I did take that much literary freedom as this was fiction! But honestly, it’s not difficulty to identify such emotional traits among people we know if we look carefully. If you’ve not read my response above to Stupidosaur, I’d request you to as that would clarify things further.

    It’s only because Rukmini doesn’t get Mukesh, that Mridula gets him and vice versa–if that’s any consolation. 🙂

    The ending wasn’t completely happy. Geetha dies. Also though, I’ve just made a very faint hint at that–Mukesh finds some residual love for Rukmini (their conversation in New York). Also, think of Rukmini–having to see one she loved the most with her best friend (Mridula) all the time!

    And believe me, Geetha’s death was a very placid narration. Try this (click), if you want something attemptedly gory!

    And to compensate for lost sleep, you could click on the ‘humor’ tag in the sidebar!

    Thanks, again!


  9. deluded,

    You sure read the story carefully? You didn’t find Geetha hot, so what if she wasn’t sweet sixteen, she was sweet sixty, at least! Okay, sorry, excuse my lame humor. You might find one hot girl, viz., Champakali in this post (click). 😉 TC.

    PS: You’ll also find a lot of milkshake in their, and since I’ve not mentioned the flavor, you’re free to choose one for yourself.

  10. Srishti,

    That’s for multiple reasons, but primarily to make acquisition of visa in a matter of hours believable. Also, other aspects of medical malpractice–like recording the confidential interactions between doctors and patients, which don’t happen now in that manner, but would later occur systematically way the trends in medical practice are headed.


  11. that struck too close home to tell you the truth…I have seen this whole debate happen so many times and the thing that parents say generally is ‘so many kids make sacrifices for their parents’, ‘it has been happening for so long and has never gone wrong’, ‘we will find you a nice guy from our community, why do you think you won’t get such a person’…but the point is that its not about not having confidence in getting such a person in the community, its about having already got someone who is the mirror of your soul…why is it so difficult to explain or understand? and in most cases these parents themselves talk of dreams they had abandoned because their own parents were unreasonable…so why do they end up doing it to their children?? any parents have any views??

  12. Hello Kajal!

    It’s nice to have you here, and welcome to the blog!

    Well, parental interference was one aspect of the story, the other more important being how if one let goes of one’s love the ‘cold turkey’ way, without properly resolving it in the mind, it could return to haunt again. Hope you didn’t miss that part! 🙂

    Yes, you’re right how parents come to expect the same painful things of their kids that they had been subjected to by their parents. And if that itself forms the bases of such expectations, it’s outright sadism. Parents who love their children should rather try to shield them from the pains of life. But, some parents also oppose to their children’s choice on somewhat rational grounds, too, like if they don’t find the love-interest of their child ‘trustworthy’ for some reason or the other (very often cues like dressing sense, courtesy, etc).

    Though, you’ve seemingly asked parents to answer your terminal question, and I’m no parent, but I’ll attempt to answer it nevertheless. 🙂

    There are some personality traits, which are taken as default virtuous positions to assume, but on asking a simple “why?”, proves their irrationality. I’ll outline such assumptions:

    1. We should preserve our culture.

    2. If I’m a Gujarati (which incidentally, I am), I should bond well with any Gujarati in any corner of the world.

    Now let’s examine both the positions:

    1. What is so virtuous about trying to preserve one’s culture. How does it in any way contribute to our becoming a good human being? A person wearing dhoti and khadi clothes can commit a cold blooded murder, whereas a guy wearing low waist jeans and black T-shirt with logo of some rock band printed on it may risk his life to save a stranger. Also, there’s needless paranoia that if one doesn’t try to preserve one’s culture, it will get destroyed. Cultural practices come in vogue because they suited the generations that inducted them into their daily lives because of limited availability of resources/technology, etc.–best example being clothes. Sarees were worn in the past not because wearing them made anyone any more pious, but because that was to only technology available. No one knew how to make jeans 200 years back…

  13. …Also, those aspects of cultural heritage that suit the contemporary generation are bound to be retained. There are countless youngsters that listen to old Hindi music because they appreciate and like it. Same holds true for poetry of Harivanshray Bachchan and stories of Premchand. But what is crass would be rejected by the contemporary or future generations alike. So merely, forcing down our culture on the subsequent generations is not going to make them any more receptive to it. What deserves merit will definitely find favor with a niche within any generation depending upon their taste and ability to appreciate it.

    One more issue–who defines what is our culture? Outside of northern India, wearing salwar-kameez would be taken as ‘loose character’ in villages.

    And the most important point–none of the generations across any of the civillizations have actually tried to ‘preserve’ their culture, otherwise how has, for instance, Indian culture evolved so much that while studying history we’ve to divide it into ‘Harappan civillization’, ‘Ancient’, ‘Medieval’ and ‘Modern’ India? And yet, we say Indian culture is ‘alive’ and has not got destroyed? This only proves that even the prior generations were sensible enough to ‘change’ with times. We’ve become culturally more refined with time rather than more savage. And the current trend should not frighten us. It’s nothing different than how humans have behaved in the past. So, at least parents must stop forcing their kids to ‘preserve’ culture and tradition.

    2. This point you’ll easily recognize as what we call communalism. It occurs, in my opinion, because defined-by-birth-affiliations are valued to too much in India. This creates an ‘us’ v/s ‘others’ mentality, which greatly interferes with our objective assessment of people from ‘other’ communities. We take a confrontational view of anyone who’s different from us, and tend to think very highly of the community to which we belong (wishfully so). So, it becomes difficult for parents to allow ‘others’ to become a part of the family, rather than someone ‘their’ own. I’ve discussed the genesis as well as irrationality of such feelings in an article called ‘communalism’ (click). Would be glad to have your views there.

    Thanks Kajal for reading such a long story, and taking time to comment!…

  14. I post my comments through a cell phone, and hence, have to break them into parts. Hope you didn’t find this comment too long, and partly answers your doubts.

    Take care.

  15. Haha what are the many morals of the story?

    Will reply a little more leisurely later (in detail)

    It was an interesting (long) read but a lot of it looked like a fairy tale – you know how he seemed to have moved on and found such a love etc.

  16. Yes Deepali, you could take your time. Afterall, quality stories deserve quality comments. 😛 And in the meantime, thanks for reading!

    Yes I agree, finding that kind of love (yet again!) is statistically, a fairytale. 😐

    And just so that you can enjoy the story better, there’s no moral or social message. As I’ve stated in the beginning, the story’s largely cathartic as well as exercise in fantasy! But yes, there’s one lesson to be learnt, which I’ll tell you of on learning of your interpretation of the story.


  17. Ketan,

    Finally I could keep my promise. Read all available posts. You have a unique style of writing and there is hidden punch at unwanted evils of our society. I loved story of Mukesh a lot. How I wish it reaches persons who are like Rukmani’s parents.

    Take care

  18. I was thinking of reading all the comments before commenting myself (which is why I didn’t comment the other day) but there are too many and many are too long hehe so most of the stuff I am going to mention might already be mentioned there.

    I already said it sounds fairy taleish with the whole falling in love again etc.
    Also I think when people are in ‘love’ and especially young, they want to rebel more strongly – Rukmini accepting her parents wishes so easily was difficult to digest. Even if she had said something like ‘I’ll do whatever you say but I won’t be happy’ before accepting their decisions, would have made it a little more realistic.

    What does make sense is that she chooses to be more unhappy than necessary. Which a lot of people do in real life. They take their problems and just keep on at them, either not finding solutions and also no accepting them and moving on.

    I’m not sure if the story was about how thing like caste and religion etc should not get priority but things like personality and character should. If that was the message, it got very diluted because he found a new love.

    I also like how there was this bit about him feeling guilty for being happy while she hadn’t been able to find any happiness. I think most people at some point or the other feel guilty for being better off than other people.

    Hehe also Shipra wanting to be proven wrong again – so many people are like that – they keep fighting against something which secretly they also want.

    Will comment again when I remember anything more.

  19. Deepali,

    Thanks for an appreciably detailed review!

    No, Mukesh doesn’t fall in love with Rukmini again at all; what he experiences is a feeling of guilt, along with a sense of duty.

    Think of a monument, which is really beautiful. Somebody decides to demolish. Your first instinct would be to prevent its demolition at any cost. Not because you like the monument, but because you feel it deserves to stand. Same’s what Mukesh had felt for Rukmini–that she was such a good human being that she did not deserve to be unhappy. And yet, letting her stay unhappy was what was making him feel guilty.

    No, I’ve actually not tried to send any social message, though it may seem like that. I wanted Rukmini and Mukesh to separate for some believable reason.

    Though, I’ve dealt with this above, I don’t mind repeating that Rukmini takes her parents unwillingness to acknowledge Mukesh as their contempt for the very essence of her life. What she does is very extreme, but then, she was an extreme person, something I’ve tried to portray through her character sketch. Rukmini doesn’t give into parents’ pressures easily. Her calmness when she asked her parents again after a week was only indicative of how much violence was hidden beneath that demeanor. Also, she did send pretty strong signals by leaving her dinner plate during her celebration of passing.

    I’d carved Shipra’s character very loosely. Her presence was to only serve as a cue for reader to think that it is Mridula who was planning of committing suicide–to ‘make way’ for the shock of Geetha actually doing that. 🙂 Also, Shipra was representative of those idealistic people who are not fortunate enough to find someone like Mukesh or Mridula.

    Thanks, again! Would be looking forward to your further comments. 🙂


  20. @Jack:

    Thanks, sir! Though, I’m against communal isolation of people in matters of marriage, to register a protest was not the intention of this story!

    Would love have your comments on my individual posts subject to your finding time. That way only some effective exchange of ideas could take place. 🙂


  21. Hi Ketan,

    Though on the surface it doesn’t sound that way, I think, reasoning followed impulse, for conclusions drawn / decisions taken by the characters. (Rukmini moving away from Mukesh or getting angry at her parents, Mukesh seeking telephone number or Mridula conclusion on Mukesh).

    Sometimes it is good. Sometimes it is not so good – reasoning following impulse. Personally, most of my decisions have been taken in a moment, than out of any cold / logical reasoning. Most of the times it has worked. Sometimes I also feel that what we term as impulsive is often a result of long hours of thinking over the same / similar subject, that our mind is automatically tuned to take that decision, no matter what.

    To the point. Was surprised to see reasoning aspect missing in a big way in this story, which is something I have somewhat come to expect of your posts. (or have I missed it)

    Cheers again

  22. I must say, give yourself a pat on the back Ketan. Was a story nicely told 🙂 Kept my interest throughout.

    Honestly, I do think I could relate to Mukesh in some way with lost love and all (most people would) and the way how that residual loves evolves and comes back and the consequences are very interesting. The reasoning by Mukesh is quite believable and so is the behaviour of Rukmini.

    Nice characters, including Shipra –Shipra was still unmarried, and secretly waiting to be proven wrong yet again, but this time by someone other than Mukesh This was nice.

    Though not something that I’ll keep thinking for days after I read it but was a descent attempt. Ok I’m a bit slow on Monologues but then that’s fine, I could skip them at places but the story continued to keep me interested and that’s I guess the most important part.

  23. Hello Sai!

    First, thanks a lot for reading this extremely long story! That you read it in itself is a pleasant suprise. 🙂

    Sai, you don’t have to be so apprehensive about the lack or reasoning part. Indeed, all the characters took their decisions instinctively/impulsively. Just that these characters also tried to explore the reasons for their behavior definitely after all those acts were committed.

    This story was pure fiction with no carry-home message, except for maybe one, that however much we think we know ourselves and plan for our responses, when faced with extreme situations, we may end up taking decisions that surprise even ourselves!

    And, even I am an extremely emotional person, just that maybe, I analyse my emotions very much, and whenever convey them, to whatever little degree on this blog, they get so organized, that the reader might be mistakenly led to believe that I ‘think’ my emotions, rather than ‘feel’ them, but which of course, is not the case. 🙂

    Thanks, again!


  24. @Rakesh:

    Thanks for reading and commenting!

    Yes, this is a very different story from what the reader would find on my blog, and even elsewhere. It’s also different because most of the plot progresses in the minds of the characters, rather than in the external world, so maybe, monologues (there were not many of them though, I thought 🙂 ), formed a very important part of the plot. But this was a very nonviolent story except for the equally nonviolent death of Geetha!


  25. Hi Ketan! I finally had enuff time to read ur story in its entirety in one go..I am glad I did.

    Y’know this story, to me feels like an Indian version of The Unbearable Lightness of Being, a book I believe u will really enjoy reading.

    It is also about a man called Tomas, torn between his intellectual admiration for his mistress, Sabina and his emotional love for his wife, Tereza. In fact, the story is divided into parts, just like u have here.

    More than the story itself, I enjoy the thoughts and words the characters use.

    ‘You’re my definition.’ such a simple, heartfelt admission of complete and utter surrender to love..wonderful!

    I love how the tennis-loving Mrs. Nair compares her day’s discoveries with 6-0 sets and matches..

    I really hope that twenty years in the future, we wud have learned enuff to not sacrifice love at the altar of rich and poor, this caste and that religion..

    I do sincerely hope so.

    But the end filled me with much happiness. I wud have felt terrible if Mukesh had betrayed Mridula. That is such a unique thing he did. I dont think such perfectly good humans exist.

    For a long time, becoz u set it in the future, I kept wondering if the facts and data wud all mean the surprise ending wud have the doctor being human in appearance but robot parts and microchips inside. I was relieved when it didnt turn out to be sci-fi story after all.

    I am delighted to hear that u wont be ‘aborting’ the ‘gestating’ idea after all.

    Please do write that story. I shall be right here reading it soon, hopefully. 🙂

    Take care, man. 🙂

  26. Thanks, TUIB!

    I think I’ve anyway explained you sufficiently what the story stands for! So, in that regard, I don’t think I need to elaborate further.

    The tennis match-analogy, ironically, was the most ‘artifical’ one! As in, not spontaneous. Obviously, ‘cuz I’m an atheist, and even when I was a theist, I could never relate to God the way I’ve described through the eyes of Geetha, and also ‘cuz I’ve not been in Geetha’s ‘shoes’ ever! 😉

    I did not seek to send any social message through the attitude of Rukmini’s parents. 🙂

    Robots–do I come out as that unemotional through my blog? Not that your response would change the nature or tone of my posts, but just curious. 🙂

    I’ve not yet been able to put pen to the paper to write that story! Hope, it doesn’t turn out to be a case of contraceptive failure!

    Take care, you too!

  27. Hi Ketan
    Thanks for sending me the link to this story.
    I thought that everything up to and including Chapter 3 was a masterpiece – you captured human emotion and the reach of pain through time, beautifully.
    In Chapter 4 I started to become uncomfortable with the story. This was partially because I could not relate to the character of Mridula at all – I think you’ve commented yourself, earlier, that she is too pliable and a function of external circumstances. But there are of course people like this in the world – mere corks on the ebbs and flows of the sea. I also found Rukmini very unlikable. She never took charge – ever – and wallowed in her discontent, always blaming someone else for all her troubles. Even at the end of your story, she had to be ‘rescued’ by an old lover before she could find happiness. But, once again, there are people like this in the world and your characters are very believable.
    Coming to Mukesh – I related to him the most – of finding it hard to give up on the past once it was held up to him, and trying to put the world right. I found his treatment ofd his wife cruel when he was trying to figure out what to do. But I think that I have said to you before – no one is all good or all bad – we all have aspects of greatness and meanness in us. And his cruelty reflects his inability to acknowledge his wife’s fears and uncertainty while he has a mission to complete. {I am writing this as if they are real people!!]
    I guess that reading it as a work of fiction, I was hoping for some sort of dramatic ending – and yes, Geethi dying is dramatic, but I was hoping for some of that agitation your allude to in the prologue – between the triangle of Mukesh, Mriduna and Rukmini…but that probably says more about my own desire for agitation, than about how the characters ended up.
    Well done my friend – an excellent story – well worth the reading time. I do hope that one day you will collect your stories into a book and then send me an autographed copy!!

  28. Sioneve,

    Thanks for your detailed review!

    Through whatever I say here, I’m not trying to justify the characters, only trying to put them in a better perspective for you ‘cuz being the author my interpretation of the characters has to be the most accurate! 😉

    Mridula: She comes off as so malleable only because she was dependent on Mukesh not for financial support or social security, but only for one thing–LOVE. And she knew that just in case if he’d ‘fallen out’ of love with her, she could not ‘demand’ love ‘cuz obviously love, unlike free market, is not a substrate of demand-supply relations. But moreover, she was herself not sure if her speculations about Mukesh were rational ‘cuz she’d known him most intimately for 4 years! And he’d never shown any tendency to disloyalty. But yes, personally, I’d ask upfront if in a similar situation. In that sense she was a bit cowardly and passive.

    Rukmini: I think you started disliking Rukmini because you might have related to her in the initial parts of the story, and then her behavior departed from yours! 🙂 Actually Rukmini does not actually blame anyone. She just wants everyone involved to feel ashamed of themselves to make a mess out me her life. Also, Mukesh does not actually rescue her. She had started realizing she was wrong all along, more so with the responsibility of her kids. But she was also afraid to confess that to herself. She just needed a standard to compare herself against as to how wrong she’d been. And Mukesh served as that standard for her. It’s like this:

    You and your friend get drenched in a sudden downpour. An hour later you see your friend all freshened up, neat and tidy after taking a bath, and you were still brooding over your soiled clothes, and blaming everything around. Your friend need not actually tell you, you were wrong in brooding. A mere glance at her, and her happiness would be sufficient to make you realize your folly.

    Mukesh: He is not cruel! He’s just less than perfect! As a reader would you have approved of his taking perverse pleasure in knowing about Rukmini’s pain? [Bitch, serves you right! You left me high and dry back then. Now rot in hell!] That’d have been an evil streak. He felt an intense sense of duty and urge to set things right (as you’ve so correctly gauged)….

  29. …And he really didn’t know Mridula was crying with kerchief in her mouth! Also, he knew what was about to do was both risque and risky! He’d to do it on the spur of the moment. Remember, he was all alone in his endeavor and noone to support him, ironically, not even Mridula! So when he was being cold (and apparently, cruel), he was actually trying to create a stern facade so that he wouldn’t have to justify himself/confront Mridula. And he did all that without lying! Which brings me to another question–did you notice, none of the characters actually lie to each other to deceive? That’s why I don’t there’s going to be a ‘market’ for these kind of stories. 🙂

    Thanks for the flowing compliments, too, but not sure if am entirely deserving of them, especially coming from an accomplishe writer as yourself.

    You know, it’s my fantasy to make a movie. I already have a couple of ideas in my mind. One is based on a conspiracy theory developed by me. The other is a sci-fi story.

    Also, I’d started with a story, much more melancholic and depressive than anything I’ve written on my blog! 😛

    But not sure if I’ll finish the story (somewhat likely, though) or if would be able to make movie(s) (extremely unlikely!).


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  32. Alright! I finally did read the entire post, though not in one go. Very well written in most parts, with an interesting plot.
    It would’ve served its purpose (catharsis) aptly.
    Some characters seemed somewhat juvenile in the way they dealt with their circumstances. Or it could be that I have greater expectations from your characters. 😀
    “It was also her first smile in eleven years.”
    Not very convincing. Rukmini had two kids. I’m sure they’d have given her some pleasant moments.
    But I’m impressed with your understanding of human behaviour, otherwise.
    The way you usually pay attention to detail seems slightly lacking here. But nonetheless, it made for a nice read! 😀

    • Veedhi,

      I guess, this is the first time you have commented on my blog post. So, warmest welcome to you! 🙂 And also, as I was not expecting your comment, it was a very pleasant surprise.

      Tremendous effort must have been required for you to completely read this, and I am not joking while saying that.

      How writing this story served to be cathartic would be very difficult for one to make out, unless and until someone knows me well. In fact, the events in this story are very different from what this story served as catharsis for. See for instance this poem – Duel (click) that I had written is very, very different from the above story, but is also cathartic and inspired by the very same events in my life. 🙂 Again, it would be difficult to make out what the original event might have been. If you just happen to be curious, you could read this comment (click) addressed to ‘Dr. S’, where I explain the circumstances surrounding my break up.

      Just like you, many readers had found something amiss with the character of Rukmini. The two things you point out: that some of the characters dealt with their circumstances in a juvenile fashion and that you found Rukmini’s not smiling in that many years unconvincing are to be are to be seen as inter-connected facts. While writing the story, I did not try to portray how humans actually behave, but how perhaps their most native instincts would make them behave. I had intended to show Rukmini as pure emotion minus the pragmatism. She is one of the most extreme characters who we are highly unlikely to find in the real world, but represents some of the emotions we feel (or at least I have felt). That particular emotion is of wanting to make others feel guilty by suffering and doing so in the hope that it would hurt and pain them. But, in the process she had realized that her efforts were totally futile and that she was being indeed ‘juvenile’ as you put it. Perhaps, the reason she takes so long to realize this is because she had not known that it was indeed possible to be happy even after losing something that one had very much wanted. She realized that she had made Mukesh a pre-condition to be happy, and ultimately live. And this realization happened when she had seen Mukesh after these many years. So, it would be best to see her as someone who was still suspended in those days when her parents had rejected Mukesh. Yes, she did have kids, but all those events were juxtaposed with intense marital discord – of the persistent awareness that she was totally unrequired and unloved by her husband. And of course, when I had written “her first smile”, it was not to be taken that much literally. 😀 I must admit, while writing and trying to portray a dramatic situation, I had not anticipated someone would point out this to me. 😉 What I had meant was a smile unburdened by the weight of her circumstances, wherein she would fully absorbed in her present and also comfortable with it. Beyond this I don’t think I should try to ‘defend’ how I had portrayed Rukmini. 🙂 I appreciate that you paid this much attention to the story.

      I could not get your reference to some lacking in details. What kind of details were you thinking of? The above kind of error (“first smile”) or something else?

      And your this sentence scared me: “The way you usually pay attention to detail seems slightly lacking here”. I had no idea I was being observed so closely all these days for you to have formed an impression on the basis of what I “usually” do! 😛

      I really appreciate your detailed reading and candid feedback, both of which I value the most. I must also point out this was the first ever story I had written. 😉

      Thanks a lot for all your effort (especially because I hardly consider this an entertaining story)!

  33. Ketan,

    Hahaha! No, I didn’t have to put in much effort to read the post. I had the time and patience. 😀
    I’m usually not too inclined to post comments on blogs. But since this was one long post, which managed to keep me hooked right to the end, and also got me thinking, I thought I might as well comment.

    Had the characters been ideal, it would’ve defeated the purpose of your writing this post. 😀 I just attempted a bit of leg-pulling there, while criticizing the ‘first smile’ bit. 😉

    I’m not into delving much into others’ personal matters. So, I’ll not intrude upon your privacy by reading your comment addressed to Dr. S. 🙂
    Though, the link to your poem Duel isn’t working.

    Hahaha! No, you needn’t be scared, for I’m no stalker. I’d based my opinion on the few of your blog posts that I’d read. 😀
    And for a first story, this is pretty good! 😀

    All the very best to you! 🙂

    • Veedhi,

      Sorry for such a delayed response; it is partly owing to lack of time and in other parts because of lack of PC access!

      Well, I could not clarify but by comment addressed to Dr. S follows the same poem called ‘Duel’. You can find it here (click). If as part of some principle you would not want to read that comment addressed to Dr. S, I won’t insist further. But personally, I am quite comfortable revealing the pivotal events in my life and my thought processes to people in general, and in case of some people (like yourself) who fulfill multiple criteria [which I would reveal if you express sufficient curiosity! 😛 ], in fact I would please me to be understood better. So, of course at least I would not take your reading that comment as ‘intrusion’. If that is how I would have looked at things, that poem and comment would never have found space online. 😀

      “also got me thinking”

      In particular what. What were your some other thoughts apart from those already expressed upon reading the story if you remember them?

      And thanks again for the encouragement! 🙂

      Take care.

    • Veedhi, again!

      Just after typing in the above comment, I went back to my comment to Dr. S and I thought it would really interest you. So, now I am insisting that you read it! 😛

      And yes, the comment is in two contiguous parts.

    • Poohi,

      No, what is written here is not my story. Though, there are elements in it of what I had experienced, but more than that it contains what I used to fear and had not happened while writing it, and nor has ‘it’ happened till now. Also, I am convinced that it will not happen. 🙂

      This ‘it’ happens to be the leaving of some issue unresolved owing to its inherent complexity and how despite actively ignoring it, it can return later in life to destabilize us. In this story that issue is of not allowing the self to undergo a bereavement reaction on breaking down of a relationship.

      For greater clarity, you could read my response to Veedhi above.

      Mukesh did not tell Mridula, because he was himself too shocked to realize what he had started to feel about Rukmini.

      Thanks for reading and commenting!

  34. To begin from the beginning, I harbour a strange resentment for the idea of reading something which I consider important in the distracting confines of a web browser. [This is very much the reason why I just condense whatever I’ve to tell through ‘Rain’, though it means running the risk of having to cut out flat cardboard characters and premises.]

    So, on – “Monday, ‎November ‎22, ‎2010, ‏‎7:34:58 AM”, I saved a word document titled ‘Ketan – Residua’ [rendering the pages a dark hue; font: trebuchet ms so on and on…. :)] so that I may return to it at leisure and just plunge into the world awaiting within. [Strange ideas!]

    And today, after about a month, I read it. And I’d love to begin by quoting my favourite lines from it. Lines that just held on to me:

    “When thoughts keep on playing in the mind in never-ending loops, they do not create any new conclusions or understanding; they create emotions – emotions that one cannot handle.”

    I wish if I’d written it!

    Now, this is one among many [Geetha’s notions about being defeated in straight sets by god, the haunting wretchedness of Rukmini and the caustic Shipra to name a few] such nuggets that I unearthed while trekking through this ‘long’ road!

    You etched out your characters with sheer mastery. Enviable. Add to it, my susceptibility (to fall) for the fair sex…..just made it impossible for me not to feel for Rukmini. And though there are number of reasons for this story to find its place in my heart, Rukmini would remain as the foremost.

    An evocative work! Kudos, my friend!


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