A life, for a life - Short fiction by Kulpreet Yadav

Well, before I begin let me wish all you wonderful people a very happy new year. May our world become a better and a more tolerant place this year. We are getting better, aren't we?

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A life, for a life - A short story




It was hot in the city. Julia stood on the pavement, her head spinning, capturing the slight air with shallow breaths, her mouth opened to the accustomed rarity. Her mind busily crawled with worries, which roamed like frolicking earthworms inside her head where she could distinctly feel; but outside it, where short boyish hair sprouted, her thoughts wound her into a tight headache, shamefully awake in realization. The limp cotton dress that slung on her thirty year old body was heavy with moisture, and had trapped in it, in not so clearly visible crevices where the white fabric crumpled into straightened creases, fine salt granules from the dehydrated batches of earlier layers of sweat. Julia felt tired, spent at the effort of trying to make it good with John. For some reason, the harder she tried, the farther it sent her husband away from her – she hated to look into his eyes which looked at her without looking, smiled without a reason, showed concern unashamed of its emptiness, and talked things that layered the wedge between them even more.

It was different before; before, that is, Piyu was born. Little Piyu was now one year old, and Julia’s only companion to whom she could freely complain – which she did all the time when John was away at work. He went early, at seven in the morning, and come back at nine in the night. Done with the cleaning and cooking for the day, Piyu would only wake up her cuddly self just after. Once up, Julia had always been in awe with the speed at which she would wake up – her eyes opening to the world around, like tiny crystals lighting a bunch of small fires. Seeing the world around, tilting her head both ways, she would look at Julia and smile, brimming tears in her eyes. Julia liked comparing her tears with the fiery happiness in Piyu’s – it made her excited that her daughter was at least happy – she would then lift her, rub her nose against hers, and throw her up in the air a few times. Piyu enjoyed this, laughing gurgles each time she was airborne, streaks of saliva running from her plump lips – Lips that had been at work, feeding from her, caressing a feeling of completeness.

John was late even today. His getting late was pushing the clock backwards each day. Last week it was nine, this week ten, and maybe later he just won’t call, she thought. Secretly Julia desired she just wanted the day to come fast when her courage was bold enough to call it a day, call it enough, have a real fight, and see what lies ahead. Was there any possibility of a reconciliation, a chance to get back to the years before, burying the bad days under? She wasn’t sure.

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She is at home waiting desperately when John finally comes in at ten. Julia finds him limping; his breath is heavy and there is smell of whiskey on him. She looks into his eyes – which are red now – and finds him a newer person. But ironically, that is nothing new; he has been looking a stranger each passing day, the strangeness only increasing every time. Today he looks weird and chooses not to even answer her question of why is he late – just smiles, eyes showing more drunkenness and walks to the fridge. There is no need for food, he says, saying there is no hunger. Julia, hungry earlier, finds herself feeling overfed, and says so. He smiles and opens a beer can and drinks in a hurry, his head up, his neck showing strains of the spirit running in the veins standing up. Piyu is asleep, she answers when he asks with a concern which has no meaning for Julia. He takes a few more gulps and heads inside the bedroom.

Julia takes a few minutes to go in, only to find he is out in the balcony smoking a cigarette and talking on the cell phone. She feels unhappy, seeing his expression so much at ease and contented, as if her existence has no meaning. A thought comes across: He has just come in a hotel room and declined the room service for food. If he wants sex, that is just an arm length away, and in the morning he will have room service breakfast before heading for office, or wherever else, and come back to this very same hotel room at any time he pleases in the night. Piyu smiles in the sleep and for a moment Julia is surprised at her anger at her. She kisses her and the smile becomes wider.

Am I just expecting too much from him? Julia is surprised at her own inner voice taking the side of her husband. Please just try, it says. Julia succumbs to it and washes her face. What she sees in the mirror is not something that she likes: There are dark circles under the eyes, the skin is lackluster and the eyes have sunk in. The lips are taut with small half circles on the edges and the hair just a mangled chaos straightened by force. There is a small bulge from where Piyu emerged one year ago. All these past few months she has tried hard to get rid of it but it is stubbornly present still. Now she realizes the effort was not hard enough. I need to do more, perhaps, in everything.

John is by now in the bed and he is snoring. Julia lies beside him and tries to gently rub her cheek across his lips. She feels the stubble sting happily but she doesn’t mind the discomfort. Instead, she increases the pressure. The snoring continues. Now she is trying to be on top of him, pulling and pushing, slowly at first, wildly later. The snoring stops, resumes after a hesitation, and stops again. He is up, his eyes wide, his forehead wrinkled. “What?” Julia is ashamed suddenly but there is now no going back. She pushes her mouth on his and allows him to take charge slowly. Madness gets a method, as he rolls her down and climbs. A few sweat drops and bundles of panting bouts of shortness of breath later, the roll down the hill is satisfying. It smothers the rough edges and Julia is happy to melt in the arms of John that surprise her in their sudden-asking in the darkness even few minutes after the meaty encounter. But Piyu is suddenly awake and she has to push John away. In seconds he is asleep, even before she can say sorry. But why should I say sorry: The question yet again divides her into two.

Julia has to walk her in the balcony. The room seems too stuffy for Piyu and her mood gets an inspiration from the cool, gentle wind that meets the two of them happily. The world around is livelier than the day – the sky a roof curving an un-rushed claim on the world below, bejeweled with stars that are twinkling dreams of a better today, a brighter tomorrow, and the half moon sitting with the naughtiness to engage the tiny Piyu. Piyu, now more awake and bright is innocently inquisitive. She smiles and closes her eyes.