A bonus chapter from Sanhkya Samhita's book, Revelations of an Imperfect Life

When I stood in front of the door that morning, knocking for the third time, I had a vague feeling of unease. Could have been because I’d tried to call Tanu the moment I landed but had failed to get through. But then again, I chalked it to the discomfort I felt at having to wear the same suit for what seemed like forever, and how it smelled of flight and exhaustion, and faintly of sandalwood. I sniffed my sleeve again. Definitely sandalwood. I remembered the woman sitting next to me on the flight and how she seemed incapable of comprehending the idea of personal space. As if Tanu needed any more reason to tease me about philandering with other women during my travels. 

Realising belatedly that Tanu could have been sleeping in, I fished inside my bag for the keys. I remember that moment very clearly. Even as I unlocked the door, I sniffed my sleeve yet again. It was not an entirely unpleasant smell. 

I wish I could say the same about the inside of the apartment. 

"Tanu?" I called out, placing my suitcase by the door. I flitted in and out of Singapore so often the suitcase had its own place there. Kicking off my shoes and peeling off my socks, I breathed a sigh of relief, and then regretted it as the stink hit me with full force. I walked to the bedroom, expecting to see the familiar bundled shape of Tanu on the bed. I often joked about how she slept like a puppy, folding herself almost into half, right in the middle of the bed, leaving me hanging on to the edge for fear of falling off. I saw an empty bed that was meticulously made, hospital corners and all, her million cushions and pillows all arranged in ridiculous order. And then I saw that the door of the bathroom was ajar, and that it was flooded. I groaned in disgust. This was not the sort of shit (pun very much intended) one wanted to handle after a hectic trip and a long flight back home. 

I started taking off my shirt, walking back to the living room, still wondering where my wife could be. Had I been blessed with intuition I would have probably noticed that the apartment looked… abandoned, and the warning sirens would have been blaring in full force. Had I been blessed with intuition it would probably have taken me less than thirty minutes, a misplaced vase and a letter to tell me that my wife of five years had left me to go back home. 

‘B,' the note said, ‘I’m sorry, but we both know this had to happen. I will be home in Tezpur with Ma and Deuta so please don’t worry about me. I hope you can forgive me for lying to you. I really hope you can forgive me for taking off like this.'

My heart in my throat, I reached for my phone, and tried calling her on WhatsApp, knowing very well her Singapore number wouldn’t work in Tezpur in Assam. I didn’t know what to expect. I simply needed to know that she was okay. 

We talked for five minutes, the gist of the conversation being the confirmation that she had, indeed, decided to book a one-way ticket back to her home and leave me, and that she wasn’t yet ready to disclose further information. It took me some time to digest it all. It took me slightly longer to figure out that she'd used my credit card to book the very tickets that took her away from me. Oh yes, the joke was definitely on me. 

Not the man to sit around and mope, I launched myself into work. First things first, I needed to do something about the bathroom. This was not the first time it had happened, and the owner of our apartment needed to do something about it for sure, and that was second on my list of things to do: call him and give him a earful. I would then have to unpack my suitcase and throw a load in the washing machine. I had my day planned out, my chores listed, and the last item on that list was to sort out my emotions. 

I am, after all, practical to a fault, and it is not just a lame pick-up line. It is who I am. 

And I had told her this, the very first time we'd met. I grimaced at the sudden memory. I was home for a couple of weeks, and was tired of dodging Ma’s constant discussion about my wedding. I decided to meet Tanu because Ritu kept giving me subtle hints, and then not so subtle hints that she was quite the catch. It was in a fancy coffee shop, and to be really honest, I hadn’t had very high expectations of this “blind date”. I don’t believe in falling head over heels in love with someone, much less in the whole love at first sight rubbish. But something most definitely happened that first time I saw Tanu. 

She was dressed in a no-nonsense white shirt and faded jeans, and looked… there’s no other way to describe this… all shiny and bright. I reached for her hand to shake it, and it didn’t escape my notice that her palm felt somehow right on mine. We sat down to talk, and it took me all of ten minutes to realise that she’d roused that primal instinct in me to protect her. Maybe it was the way she laughed that throaty laugh of hers, unapologetic, none of that silly “womanly” giggles. Maybe it was her eyes and how they betrayed every single emotion that she was feeling. I had a sudden fierce urge to shield her from anything that could possibly hurt her, and it made me feel rather silly, how I wanted to be the “hero” in her life: the guy wearing nothing but VIP underwear and a robe gaping open to show his manly chest, holding the visibly terrified woman by her slim waist even as he lands a punch on the thug. 

By the time we said goodbye and she left, I knew I had to marry her. No, not because I had fallen in love with her. But because I felt comfortable in her company, and to me that mattered more than anything. It surprised me to no end, but I could picture us being back-slapping pals; I knew I could tell her jokes my guy friends and I shared, and that she would not just understand them but find them hilarious too. My parents had dedicated themselves to the mission of finding the right girl for me, and that day, I walked back home with my chest slightly puffed out as I declared to my mother that she could call off the search. I might not believe in love, but I do believe in taking care of someone and ensuring their happiness, and in my dictionary, that’s as close to love as it gets. I had found the woman I wanted to take care of for the rest of my life, and that was that. Spare me the poetry and songs and flowers and holding hands, please. 

Coming back to reality and the five years hence… did I see this coming? No. Definitely not. But should I have seen this coming? Yes. I should have seen the signs. Who am I kidding? I did see the signs. I chose to ignore them. Because ignoring them meant I didn’t have to admit to myself that things hadn’t gone the way I had planned them. 

And so that evening, having checked all the things on my to-do list, when I sat in the balcony, nursing my resentment and a glass of scotch, I decided that the only way to go forward (hoping there was still a way forward) was to find out the root of it all. One couldn’t solve a problem without knowing what the problem itself was. I was confident that once I knew the why, I could figure out the how. 

I gave Tanu some time to frame her sentences and practice her speech, and called her up first thing in the morning. We talked for nearly an hour, possibly the longest we had talked in ages, and by the time I hung up the phone, I felt like I had been wrung and hung out to dry. I wanted to get the logistics out of the way, of course, and asked her what she wanted to do next. She told me she had no idea. She told me about feeling lost, and I told her that I would be her anchor. But then she told me that I was no longer her anchor, and so I dug a little deeper; asked her since when she’d started feeling that way. I was diagnosing the problem, methodically picking apart our marriage, trying to trace the problem all the way to the source. 

That was when I realised that Tanu was as clueless as I was. All she knew was that she was unhappy, but didn’t know why. And that’s when I felt that first flash of anger bubbling in the pit of my stomach. All of a sudden I was done skirting around non-existing issues. All of a sudden I wanted solid answers. Which is why I asked her, straight as can be, why she never talked about wanting to be a mother. Of course I knew what she had to say, but I wanted to hear it from the horse’s mouth. And I did. Heard every brutal word as she told me she wasn’t ready to be a mother and would possibly never be. I knew I was pushing the limits but darn it, I wouldn’t make things easy for her. I kept asking her why she didn’t want a child of her own, but her “I don’t know” felt like I’d slammed right onto the wall at the dead, dead end.

I was so done with her “I don’t know”s. I wanted to get away from it all as soon as possible, and cut short the conversation. At the very last minute she said something about letting my parents know and I told her it was my responsibility, not hers. 

That, as they say, was the beginning of the end. I never quite got used to waking up on my own, or those first few peaceful minutes in the morning before reality hit me, but I taught myself to be okay with it. If distance was what she wanted, I was all for giving her distance. I had read a long time ago, “If there is no solution, then there is no problem.” As far as I was concerned, ours was a classic example of that.

At the same time though, I was not the kind of person who could let things go. It bugged me to no end, the not knowing, the helplessness. I wanted to talk to her and ask her yet again, but some part of me knew that it would be of no use. And so I waited. Waited for her to call me and tell me that she had reasoned with herself enough to at least find some reason. 

Things would have stayed that way had it not been for Adam from Accounts. Damn Adam from Accounts and his bachelor party. I'd meant to boycott the event, but solidarity won over cynicism and to cut a long story short, the cheap wine got straight to my head, and before I knew it, I got fabulously drunk. I don’t usually let alcohol get the better of me, but the rare times that it does, my body loves the override to do whatever it wants without my mind vetoing it, and that night that’s exactly what happened. Except this time my body decided to let my tongue run away, and without meaning to, without wanting to, I found myself calling Tanu. I had a vague recollection of feeling fantastic after a long time, as though I was free falling and whooping for joy while belching out the words, and then… nothing. Until the next morning when it all hit me and I could suddenly remember all the ugly words I had said through the phone. I had to apologise, of course I had to. I might be distant, but I was not a monster. 

Because I didn’t believe in doing things halfway, I told her about how I felt. Every single bit. And I surrendered totally; laid out my emotions all in front of her. About how she made me feel conflicted and confused and I simply had to know what lay ahead of us. One would think that letting it all out would be helpful, but like everything else about Tanu, it left me standing right where I was. 

So what was a man supposed to do? Give up without trying? Accept his fate and resign himself to forced bachelorhood? I couldn’t. 

On an ordinary evening, home alone and reheating leftovers from three nights ago, my phone rang. 

“Nibir here,” I spoke into the phone, not knowing who was on the other line.

“Oh God, it’s so good to hear your voice!” came the voice on the other end. 

It took me to some time to place that somewhat familiar voice. 

“Wait… Could this be… Divi?” 

The voice seemed to find it hilarious.

“Who would have thought you would remember my voice?”

“Mokkel toi! Where have you been all these years, you idiot? It’s been what, five years?” I asked. 

“Yes, five years. The last time we met was at your wedding,” Divi said. 

“And then you disappeared. None of the gang knew where you were, even after I kept asking repeatedly,” I said, and it was partly true. From time to time I had tried to find where she was. 

“Well leave all of that. Tell me, how’s marriage treating you? You must have gained quite a lot of experience by now, huh?” Divi asked, not knowing what can of worms she was opening.

“Oh well… Things are okay I guess. Tanu’s home with her parents these days,” I said, not wanting to reveal anything more. 

“Holidaying without you? Tsk tsk. When will she be back?”

“Dunno.” I shrugged. 

“Ah, then you must be tossing and turning in bed, tortured that you’re alone...” 

“Look… let’s not talk about this, okay?”

“Whoa… I was just pulling your leg! Sensitive much?”

“Uff! Things are just a little… complicated right now.”

“Oh...”

“So… Why this sudden desire to shed your invisibility cloak?” I changed the topic. 

“Sa sun! I almost forgot why I had called you up in the first place! We’re having a reunion next month.”

“That’s great,” I said in a monotone.

“Yep! In Guwahati. Come? It looks like you could use a long conversation over not so few drinks.”

“Can I take a rain check on the conversation? You know me.”

“Yeah yeah, run away from issues like you always do. But does that mean you’re coming?”

“Maybe,” I said, and then a thought came to mind. "And maybe while at it I’ll drop by to meet Ma. Oh, and Tanu too.”

“Yeah, okay. Make it a confirmed yes, Nibir. Think about it! The whole gang will be there!”

By then I had come to a decision.

“Aahim de. Happy? I’ll see you next month.”

“I can’t wait!! Do I get a hug when I meet you, or are hugs off limit now that you’re Mr. Married?” Divi giggled. 

“Oh please! I don’t do hugs. Chal bye. Send me the details, okay?”

“Will do! I’m so excited!”

I couldn’t care less about meeting people I had left far behind in life. But I meant it as a surprise for my mother (she could do with something to boost her mood after I told her about the status of my marriage) and for Tanu, and for the first time in ages, I felt like a high school boy about to go out on his first date, hoping against hope that he would get lucky and steal a kiss. I was definitely nervous about meeting my parents-in-law, specially her Deuta, because if there was a man who didn’t mince words, it was him, and to be honest I was terrified of him. I told myself I had far less to lose than to win, and hoped to get an A for effort if nothing else. 

The reunion was fun, although Divi kept trying to get to me drink despite my not wanting to. I ended up telling her about the status of my marriage, and it felt good to have someone take my side. I told her how I had one night to spend with Tanu before going to Dibrugarh to meet my mother, but I would make that night count. I reached Tezpur late into the evening, and it was not quite the grand welcome I had envisioned. There was a power cut, everyone was sitting outside, and instead of tears of happiness and gasps of joy, I got a lot of flustered fumbling and stumbling in the dark. 

My phone kept buzzing continuously. Divi seemed to be making up for lost time in double time.

How’s it going? 

-I don’t know yet. She looked more shocked than surprised. 

Oh. Did she tell you anything?

-No. And I couldn’t decide if I am still allowed to hold her.

Someone told me he didn’t do hugs. 

-Talking about my wife here, yes?

Has she changed?

-What do you mean?

Duh. Any sign she has changed her mind?

-Been ten minutes since I’ve arrived. Don’t know. 

Keep me posted, okay?

-Yeah alright. Let me talk to her first.

I followed Tanu to her bedroom, but when I started changing my clothes, she turned away, suddenly conscious… as if I was a mere stranger. It was as if she'd dismissed me. Guess I found my answer after all. While I was still digesting what it might mean, Divi called again. 

“Divi… not a really good time,” I whispered into the speaker. 

“Oh, sorry. I just wanted to hear your voice again.”

I sighed. “Well, it’s nice to know. Things are sour here.”

“Sour?”

“She refused to be in the same room as me when I started changing. I barely feel like her husband anymore!”

“You sound angry.”

“Of course I am angry, Divi. Look, like I said, I need to sort things out, okay?”

“You know I’m here for you, right?”

“Yes. Thanks Divi.”

“Anytime. Bye!"

What followed was gruelling. I had to pretend that everything was okay in front of everyone. I had to make small talk with Ma, who, bless her soul, didn’t demand much response from me as she went on and on. I wish Deuta would do the same too. But Deuta being who he is, offered me no such respite. He decided to dive straight into the crux of the matter and asked me point blank why the heck my wife had thought it was okay to leave her home and husband behind and why the heck I had led her to believe that it was okay. When I walked out of the room after that discussion, I noticed Tanu standing behind the curtain, listening in on our conversation. At that moment, I wanted to walk out of that house and her life and never return again. 

After dinner that night Tanu wanted to talk. And all I felt was tired to the bone. I was being made to feel as though I was responsible for everything that was happening and at the same time insensible about why this had happened. So when she asked me why I had come in the first place, I told her the truth: that I had hoped that seeing me would make her realise that she did miss me after all, and because I wanted to see for myself that she was okay being away from me. In my mind, it was all very simple. She left me because she wanted some distance. I'd given her said distance and was back to see if things had changed. Things sure had changed, but not for the better. The entire trip was a waste of my time.

Lying on the bed that night, for the first time, I was glad that there was someone in front of whom I could rant and vent. I picked up my phone and typed out a text.

You there?

-Yes, Nibir. Tell me.

Could we talk?

-You want me to call up?

No. I can only chat. Can we?

-Of course. What is it?

I feel like a fool, coming here.

-Why do you feel that way? Did Tanaya say something?

Same old, same old. But it was her Dad this time.

-Oh. What did he say?

Point blank told me it was my fault. 

-What?!

Yep. Asked me what went wrong, and guess what, I wanted to tell him every tiny detail.

-Wellll… What did go wrong, Nibir? 

Where do I even begin?

-From the beginning? Unless you want to save it for a conversation later?

Nah. Text is fine. 

-So tell me. 

At first I thought it was just Tanu being moody. I’d come back from office to see her all sad, and somehow it would be my fault.

-Sad about anything in particular?

That’s the thing. It was a different thing everyday. 

-So what would you do?

What could I do? Nothing. She told me I never knew the right things to say.

-Oh. 

Came to the point where I would be scared of unlocking the door every evening because I wouldn’t know what to expect on the other side. 

-Was she always like this?

No. Not always. She’d have good days. But towards the later part I think the bad outnumbered the good. 

-So that was all? She was… moody?

I hated having to walk on eggshells around her. She’s my wife! I’m not supposed to feel suffocated around her. 

-God, Nibir! Things were that bad?

I felt terrible. Am her husband. Am supposed to make her feel happy. 

-You are a good husband, Nibir. At least you cared enough to go visit her this time, right?

Well, not according to her Dad. I’m not. He told me I should fix this. 

-Like it wasn’t Tanu’s fault at all?

How the hell am I supposed to fix something if I don’t even know what it is?

-You should have told him all this. 

I did. Told him that Tanu was needlessly complicating things. 

-You should have told him how you felt too, just like you’re telling me. 

Yeah? Should I also have told him that my wife and I don’t sleep together anymore?

I don’t know why I told her that. It felt like borderline betrayal. It felt good. 

-Oh wow. Now that is something. You okay with that?

Of course not! 

-Sorry, that was a silly question. So what are you going to do next? 

Yes. What was I going to do next?

 I left the next day feeling worse than I had before, but not before meeting Nila, Tanu’s twin, who gave me a rather cryptic message about how the solution lay in the problem. It seemed to run in the family, this speaking in riddles. 

Staying true to her nature of blowing hot and cold, Tanu sent me a mail a few weeks later. I read the mail on my home from work after a shitty day. 

"Dear B,” she wrote. "I know you must be surprised to receive a mail from me, given how things are between us, but I had to tell you this in writing because I never found the courage to say it out loud to you. I have said sorry for all the pain I have caused you by running away, but there is one instance I have never said sorry for, and this is me righting the wrong. 

If I am honest, I will admit that I don't exactly remember what we were fighting about that day, which goes to say how trivial it must have been. But I remember this... We were having lunch outside in that fancy restaurant, and I had worn my pretty blue dress, the one you said made me look paler than usual. I remember one moment hissing at you, trying to not draw attention to us, and the next feeling an insane urge to hurt something, anything. I know you won't believe me when I say this, but at that moment, it had felt like my arm had acted out of its own accord. Everything happened so suddenly... The glass I had thrown across the table shattered on the floor and everybody turned to look at us. My first thought had been of disappointment that it hadn't hit you, to be replaced by horror the next moment. And the look on your face... All I saw was disgust. 

That evening, while you were out running to cool yourself off, I was slumped on the floor ugly crying wondering what I was supposed to do with myself. I hated my life, hated our cold dark apartment but more than everything, I hated the person I was turning into. I kept reliving the moment in agony, the look on your face, and the way I felt the moment sense prevailed. 

I hated myself the most at that point. 

I told myself I am a better person. I am not this person who loses her temper and breaks stuff. I was ashamed, regretful and wondered how I would look you in the eye after this. I wondered if I need help. I blamed you for not knowing what I wanted. I blamed myself for not being more in control of myself. And I wondered if I was turning into an abusive partner.  

We never talked about this again, and now I wonder why. Over time I think I convinced myself that it didn't happen, and until today, I had no intention of ever bringing it up. But life, I realised, is too short and too goddamn unpredictable to keep things unsaid, which is why I am saying this now. 

I am sorry. 

I am sorry for not being a better wife. I am sorry I can't give you the baby you so desperately want. I'm sorry for all the times the harsh words rolled out of my mouth without the gates of conscious thought to keep them in. But most of all, I'm sorry that I made you feel like you couldn't talk to me about that lunch. I know the universe has some retribution in store for me, and I will readily accept it when it comes my way. 

Yours..." 

I hated when she did that: dig down deep in time to find things to discuss about. Truth be told, that glass throwing incident was the day I decided I didn’t give a damn to what she wanted to do next. I had suffered enough on the emotional roller coaster ride named Tanu, but I drew the line at physical assault. She was right, it disgusted me to see how a person could be so out of control of their emotions that they had to resort to kicks and punches. It wasn’t about hurting me. It was about the fact that she had created a scene; let a silly matter get the better out of her to the extent that she was compelled to show that ugly side of hers.

So why didn’t I talk to her about it? Because like everything else with Tanu, talking never seemed to resolve anything. If only we could “talk things out” once and get it out of the way….But no. With Tanu, it was guaranteed that the matter would be brought up again. And then again a few weeks later. And then again a few months later. It was an unending cycle. As long as I pretended that nothing had happened, I was at least spared her sour mood for a few days. Until the next time something happened to upset her again. I had by then learned to be happy during her “upbeat” days, and to live with her sour days and just let it ride. 

But of course, the fact that I took slightly over twelve hours to respond to her mail was also an issue. Tanu called me up while I was in the middle of a meeting, with my clients biting my head off. I told her I would call her back and even then she had to ask me if I had received the mail. If I were to rank all the things I hated, right on the top was clingy women, and being told what to do. And my wife was hell-bent on subjecting me to both. 

I tried to understand her, I did. Told her it was all water under the bridge, and that I had moved on. Which was partly true. I had forgiven her, but it didn’t mean that I was okay with it. But then she started saying something about Divi, of all people, and I had to stop her. Sure, Divi had taken to calling me up everyday, and I rather liked having superficial conversations that didn’t involve lengthy discussions on how pathetic I am as a husband. But when Tanu implied that it was because Divi was in love with me, I totally lost it. It was so typical Tanu; trying to make a mountain yet again out of a molehill. I reminded her of how it was she, and not I, who had decided to give this whole marriage thing a break. I suddenly remembered the look on her face when I had started changing in front of her, and how she had taken upon herself to decide what was okay and what was not in this relationship of ours. I hated how each time we talked, I was reminded that nothing I thought or said mattered. It was all about her; that selfish, self-entitled woman!

How was your day, Mr. Unmarried? 

Divi’s text came at 10pm on the dot. 

Sorry. Too soon? 

-Hey. Bad day is all. 

Tell me all about it. 

-Could I call you?

About to reach home in five. Call you then?

Will wait. 

I poured myself a drink and settled down. Divi called exactly five minutes later. 

“Yes. Tell me,” she said, sounding a little breathless.

“Don’t you need to change first? Or freshen up?” I asked. 

“Nothing I can’t do without you on the speaker. Tell me,” she insisted. 

“I said some nasty things to Tanu today.”

I heard Divi sigh on the phone. 

“What did you say?”

“Well… she’d sent me a mail yesterday, and I thought I’d reply when I was in a more relaxed state of mind. Well, she got mad.”

“And you told her nasty things in return?”

“No… It was not just that. She said something else.”

“What?”

I hesitated. I couldn’t exactly tell her what Tanu had said, specially because it involved her. 

“Fine. Don’t tell me if you don’t want to.”

“Divi you know I tell you everything. She implied that we were getting too close.”

“We?”

“Yeah, you and I.”

Divi laughed. “And where would she get that idea?”

“I don’t know! I mean can you imagine? You and I, of all people.”

“I know, right? So what did you say?”

“Told her she was being ridiculous. And to mind her own business. Seriously, that woman…!”

“So was she jealous?”

“Who? Tanu? Why would she be?”

“That we talk everyday?”

“I don’t understand how her mind works, honestly.”

“She doesn’t sound like a very matured woman, I’m sorry to say.”

“It’s not exactly that…”

“Why else would she accuse you like that?”

“To be fair, I haven’t really been talking to her.”

“And why is that?”

“Why is what?”

“Why is it that you talk to me, and not to her?”

“You know why. Because you’re easier to talk to. You’re not blaming me for everything that goes wrong!”

Divi laughed again. “That’s the only reason why?”

“Umm, because you’ve known me longer, and possibly better, than she’s known me?”

“She can’t be very understanding, is she?”

I thought about it. “She is, actually. For the most part.”

“Really?” 

“You sound surprised.”

“It’s just that from what you tell me she sounds like a spoilt brat who throws a fit when she doesn’t get what she wants.”

“Wait, is that how I make her look like?”

“Ummm… kinda.”

“Look, I might be mad at her. But I don’t hate her. Yet.”

“Yet.”

“No. I can’t hate her. I mean, we weren’t always this way. We were happy once upon a time.”

“So what changed then?"

“Well, she started complaining about a lot of things. Things I could do nothing about.”

“Such as?”

“For one, she kept saying she felt like we had no connection, whatever the hell it means.”

“You want me to explain it to you?”

“Thanks, but no thanks. Then of course there was this whole no sex issue.”

“Uh huh. I am tempted to pry and ask how that happened.”

“Don’t pry. Things just weren’t… conducive, if you know what I mean. Her moods. My frustration at her moods.”

“Oh okay. What else did she complain about then?”

“About having to move repeatedly.”

“But that’s not your fault, right?”

And suddenly, it struck me. “No. That is my fault. I was supposed to give her a roof.”

“Huh?”

“Yeah, you know, food, clothes and a home?”

“So?”

“So I should have provided her with a home.”

“Do you think that would have solved all the issues?”

“Who cares about all the issues? If solving even one issue was in my hands, I should have.”

“Maybe…”

“I think that’s it, you know. Maybe I should buy us a home!”

Divi laughed out loud this time.

“What? Something funny?”

“Nothing. It’s just that you went from “That woman!” to “I should buy us a home” at the snap of a finger.”

“So what? I have a good feeling about this.”

“Oh Nibir, I wish you all the happiness you deserve.”

“Thank you.”

“I mean, I want to say this will change things. But knowing what I do…”

“I’m telling you Divi. I think I know to handle this."

From that night on, I was a driven man. I asked around and got to know that a condo was approaching TOP and units were selling like hot cakes. I knew I couldn’t afford the down payment, but I also knew I would beg borrow or steal to manage the sum. Without thinking twice, I called up the number on the website, fixed an appointment to visit the show flat, and decided there and then that I would buy a unit. The agent almost gave me a heart attack when he said that the last unit available was being considered by another party, but a few calls later, he said I could have it if I made a deposit right away. With no time to even think things over, I said yes. 

And just like that, I bought our first apartment, rendering me broke in the process. 

Having actually done something to salvage my failed marriage, I felt a sudden rush. That despite this Tanu might not want to come back, I didn’t even consider a possibility. I knew I had to tell someone. It was too much to keep to myself. I called Nila, and had almost blurted out that I had bought the apartment, but she gathered that I had “plans” to make things better. She talked to me as though I were a child (but that could also have been because she had a two-year old of her own) and commended me on doing the right thing. “Good boy!” were her exact words. 

Cashless that I was, I knew I had to be careful about the next few steps. The unit was bought, but it didn’t look like a home. It had to be furnished from scratch. Even thinking about investing in furniture and gadgets gave me mini panic attacks from time to time, and so I thought I would take it slow; buy one thing at a time. Had we been on talking terms, I would’ve found it near impossible to keep this from Tanu, but not talking to her helped. All in good time, I told myself, thinking about the look on her face when she would see the place for the first time. 

But things changed when Nila called me up one day out of the blue. 

“Nibir,” she said, “how serious were you when you said you were trying to win Tanu back?”

“Very,” I told her. 

“Do you even have a plan?” she asked me. 

I was almost offended. “Of course I do. I bought us an apartment!” I told her.

“You did what?”

“Bought an apartment, Nila. For us.”

“God bless you! You can be an A-hole at times, but thank heavens you saw the light!” Nila laughed.

“Umm, thanks? But please don’t tell her this yet, okay? I need more time to furnish the place and set it all up….”

“Time? Oh wait. No. You don’t have time. Which is why I’m calling you.”

“What do you mean I have no time?”

“Tanu’s leaving for Vietnam.”

I felt my world go unusually still. 

“She’s leaving for Vietnam? When?”

“Well she’s got it all sorted out. She’s leaving with Andy next month, and she hasn’t told Ma-Deuta about it but she plans on looking for a job during that trip. If things work out, she plans on making it long term.”

I didn’t know whether I was impressed or terrified. That Tanu had managed to make concrete plans of living independently in Vietnam made me feel suddenly proud of her. At the same time, it broke my heart to think of just how little she needed me for anything anymore.

“You’re suddenly quiet,” Nila reminded me. 

“So it’s all planned out, huh? She’s gone ahead and decided to make it official then?”

“Look… I know how this looks. But there’s something else…” Nila said, and I could sense her hesitation. 

“There’s more?” I said, wondering if I could handle any more. 

“Well… she recently got to know that she might not have a baby even if she wanted to.” 

I felt a surge of anger. “And why am I getting to know this from you?”

“Hey, don’t shoot the messenger, okay? If you must know, I did tell her that she should tell you, and got blasted for it as well.” 

“But she’d never really wanted a baby anyway, so how does it matter?”

“You can be so thick-headed at times. How would you feel if you were told you couldn’t have something? Like you walk past a toy in a toy store and don't really pay attention it, but then someone comes and tells you…”

I’d had enough of being treated like Nila’s two-year old.

“Okay, I get it. So now what, she wants a baby?” I asked. 

 And just like that, something inside me snapped. I thought about how time to time I’d broach the subject of babies and Tanu would always change the topic, never really committing to anything, but never exactly saying that she didn’t want babies either. I’d always been a champion of ignoring things and running away from conflict but this was the one case where I’d always hoped that she would one day come up and tell me directly that she didn’t want to become a mother so I could ask her bluntly why. 

“Maybe she does. Wait no, she told me she does. So complicated my sister is…!”

“Tell me about it,” I said.

“So does it change things?” Nila asked tentatively. 

“Change what?”

“Your wanting to win her back?”

“Why would it Nila?” I replied. “You forget that I was ready to win her back having accepted that she might never want kids. To know that she can’t have kids, through no fault of hers, is just a different label on that same wine bottle.”

“Wow, loneliness *has* made you wise,” Nila said. 

“So now what?” I asked, lacking the ability to think of what to do, my mind suddenly tired from the information overload. 

“Now what maane? You want to win her back? Come win her back! And hurry please, before she leaves. I will try and find out which date her ticket is for, but…”

“Tonight. I’m flying tonight,” I blurted out. 

“You sure?”

“Yes. I am. And I’ll thank you some other day at length, but now let me hang up so I can get my tickets done, okay?”

“Very much okay, you idiot. Bye.”

And so I got my tickets done. Because when I had decided to get married to Tanu, I’d made a promise to take care of her always, and part of taking care of her was ensuring her happiness. It was my responsibility, after all. Tanu could be extremely difficult, yes, but I knew at that point, somewhere in Tezpur, she had given up hope on me. It was the least I could do; to let her know that I had not given up hope yet. I needed to let her know that my silence was not because I wasn’t listening to her, which is what she thought, but because I didn’t know what to say to make things okay. But most of all, I needed to let her know that without her, no house would ever feel like a home. 

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