This little tale is for my son Angad who once told me "pops, why don't you write a story about Men's Misadventures "?
Ranbir was awakened by the familiar prattle of birds at 5'oclock on a Sunday morning.He could make out ,by the gentle tip-tap on his window that it was starting to drizzle a bit.Generally he was an avid riser--ready to face the day--but, today, he wanted somebody to sing him a lullaby and "hush-a -bye-baby"him back to sleep.The walls seemed to close in on him, making his loneliness verge on the claustrophobic. A silent tear rolled down his eyes and into the pillow, making a wet spot that kept on getting bigger and bigger. He watched it with a growing sense of fore-boding.
It had been a year since he had lost his wife to breast cancer.The struggle through four years of chemotherapy, of hope and despair, of financial ruin, of a tattered self-respect due to frequent borrowings from friends had left him deeply scarred and a little unsure of himself. He had become a loner, almost a hermit, totally detached from what was around him.He would have probably gone to pieces had it not been for the two little rainbows of his heart.
He turned his eyes to his two sons sleeping beside him. Though there was always a lingering question in their eyes, Arnav and Ayan; both aged seven; had never brought up the topic of their mother in front of their father.With a wisdom which is perhaps the divine inheritance of the deprived,they had never made their dad uncomfortable by their queries.It was, as if,God had already given them the answers.As a supreme act of "giving"He had also made them the `children of light'.They had light brown hair,twinkling blue eyes and a laughter that could stop a robin-redbreast in it's tracks. Looking at them, he was truly amazed by life's strange ironies and stranger compensations.
There was a sudden scream of delight as Ayan took a running jump over Arnav and landed on Ranbir's chest.It was Sunday,time for their weekly game of cricket with the boys of the locality.They were very fond of watching their pops systematically decimate all the bowlers of the neighbourhood and win countless bottles of Pepsi for them which were offered as bets.They hurriedly put on their tracksuits and reached the park. Today; however,Ayan's first shot landed slam-bang in the centre of a bee-hive. Their sprint back home could have made Bolt hang his head in shame,their laughter resonating `mid the silent walls.
But to come back to Ranbir. Ranbir....not the kind of man one would meet often. The rat-race had made him a part of the so called `corporate-culture' but he had an aversion to it which bordered on the pathological.
He hated the breaking down of barriers, hated the flitting butterflies who passed for women, hated their single-minded propensity to get 'fixed-up' and climb the ladder of success `man-by-man', as he jokingly put it.His work buddies had many a time tried to take him up the "path of lillies", bring him up to date with men's misadventures but he had always steered clear of it all, his psyche having been imprinted by an archetype called `sanctity' of relationships.His colleagues, in exasperation, had dubbed him `Jurassic Park'
Fed up with the blandishments of his friends , Ranbir had married Nazneen, a shy muslim girl.He had figured that being more orthodox than the girls from other communities, Nazneen would be a home-maker,would cook his meals, look after his his children,.give him the `Aashiyaana' he always wanted That the dude up there always has an alternative to the best laid plans of men became clear to him before the week was out.
Nazneen threw off her demure look and , in front of his eyes, metamorphosed into another body-waxing, made-up doll who was a step ahead of any other woman about town. She loved to party and the invitations were many.She loved to twirl around the dance floor with all men, to the shame-faced consternation of Ranbir.A number of times , he had pulled her off the dance floor, to return home. She would come, dutifully, as it were,and sit in the car, a faint derisive smile playing on her glossy lips, as if she, too, thought him to be a fossil from pre-historic times, On one such party in a big hotel,she had even managed to send him to a room, apparently to fetch something.Ranbir had opened the door .After that the only thing he remembered was a sudden embrace,his tearing himself away, and a dash down the stairs, He had collapsed on the sofa where Nazneen was sitting, his face blanched, devoid of all colour.Nazneen was smiling, gloating over her hold on him .
Then, suddenly, there were the boys , the joys, and, then, the tears.And a year back it had ended, the futile struggle with the dreaded crab.
Today, watcing the boys surf the net with wonder-waiting eyes, Ranbir became conscious of a gnawing at his heart.Soon, very soon,Arnav and Ayan would grow up, date their own girls, go their own way. Their dad would be only a loving remembrance in their hearts,to be wished on birthdays,to be met occasionally,leave permitting, time allowing, wife agreeing.....And his heart was full..of emptiness.
It was then, in a sudden apocalyptic moment, that a phrase from his past flashed in his mind : men's misadventures. Ranbir was thinking. "This won't be a misadventure any more. would it be ?Would it be an insult to the memory of someone ? Would it be a negation of what I am? But he was desperate. No , not with desire, but with a craving for a loving hand, a warm touch, a caress on the forehead :a long-forgotten wistfulness tearing at his innards.
He called his best friend Satya who promised to be discreet and very quiet.As the weekend approached, Ranbir's heart was all aflutter, going like a trip hammer. He had told his sons that he was going for official work, their trust and his lie ripping his heart to shreds. He had arranged a governess for them,and the guilt was killing him, he had walked out in the dusk, averting his face, and that was almost the death of him."What am I doing?Ranbir was screaming silently to himself.
As the yacht started to sail towards Goa,Ranbir came face to face with a woman who looked like having descended from the stars. Ranbir was flabbergasted. She was looking at him in an enigmatic way, trying to sort him out, figuring, perhaps, a way to handle him.Under her scrutiny, already unsure of himself, Ranbir panicked. Ignoring the fact the yacht was already gathering speed, Ranbir dove head-first into water. He swam to the shore as if a shark was chasing him.
He leapt into the first available cab. He was almost frothing at the mouth. He jumped out of the taxi in front of his house. He opened the door ,"Pops aap aa gaye?"said Arnav and Ayan in a chorus. Ranbir burst into tears.He looked up at the photograph of Nazneen on the wall.
She was smiling slowly, faintly, derisively, as she always had done.....
Men's misadventures indeed....
