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A little late May 17, 2016

Posted by globejam in Uncategorized.
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She was three days late.

Normally, Mala would not have been worried about it too much. At 54, she knew all there was to know about delayed periods and the associated feelings of anxiety, worry and hope. But this time, it was different. After a long time, she had had unprotected sex, and that too with someone other than her husband.

***
Several months ago, on a whim, she had sent a paper to the commonwealth association of primary school teachers on new ways of engaging children in schools in developing countries. She had not thought much of the paper herself and had forgotten all about it when she had received intimation that the paper had been accepted and she was required to come and present it at the next summit of primary school teachers to be held in London. She had also been pleasantly surprised to learn that it would be an all expenses paid trip, under some UNICEF scheme.

Delighted at the opportunity, she had made all the preparations and had left for London on a high fifteen days earlier. The conference had been a wonderful experience and she had thoroughly enjoyed her week in London. There had been well over 300 teachers from all parts of the commonwealth including 3 from India – herself, another lady from Mumbai and Abhay from Chandigarh – all first-time travellers abroad. They had stuck together and had hit it off well with Abhay being kind, generous and witty. Her paper had been very well received with especially loud applause and cheering from the tiny Indian contingent.

There had been time to see a bit of London as well and the three of them had managed to take a half-day tour on the open top bus and spend some time inside St. Paul’s cathedral as well. It has been a long time since she had been so happy.

The conference had thrown a large formal dinner on the last evening with caviar, wine and the works and she and Abhay had found themselves seated next to each other. The witty conversation, the excitement of the week gone by, and the wine had all made for a heady experience. Well after midnight, after the dinner, Abhay and she had walked back to their hotel two blocks away, holding hands and giggling like teenagers. Their rooms were on the same floor and they finally parted in front of her room, albeit a little reluctantly.

Back in her room, Mala had run a bath, hoping to have one last luxuriating bath before reverting to the bucket and mug that awaited her back home. She added the bath salts into the water and soaked in the warm water for a long time. Feeling refreshed, she had played with herself, the first time since she did not know when, and had ended up dozing in the bath in a dreamy post-climactic stupor. A little later, the water had turned cold and she had forced herself out of the bath, changed into her night clothes and surrendered to her warm and fluffy bed.

The next day, she had woken up fully refreshed, but with a heavy heart, for she knew that she had to catch the flight back home later that day. The week had flown past so fast and she was already feeling like she did not remember most of the things that she had seen and been part of over the last few days. With the bus to take her to the airport still a few hours away, and not wanting to get depressed, she had decided to make the most of the remaining time.

She had then had a quick shower and got ready to leave the room for a walk around the area. Wanting her morning cup of coffee, she had turned the kettle on, only to find it was not working. She had then gone over to Abhay’s room to borrow his kettle. She had knocked on his door a few times but there had been no response and finally just as she had been about to turn around and go back, he had opened the door, all wet from having rushed out of the bath, with just his towel wrapped around him. His hair had been all pasted to his forehead and he had had a large frown on his face. She had found that funny and had playfully tugged at his towel and he, in turn, had pulled her in to the room and before they knew what was happening, they were in his bed having sex. Both having been out of practice, it had been clumsy and rather quick but entirely enjoyable.

After a while, she had left him to get dressed and had gone to her room to re-apply her make-up and get ready for her journey back home, the coffee completely forgotten.

Back in the room, she had felt a little twinge of guilt for having cheated on her husband. But she had brushed it aside, glad for the experience, and flown back home.

***
And now she was three days late.

She decided that she wouldn’t worry much just yet. It might very well be the onset of menopause. After all, she was 54 years old. However, at the back of her mind, she could not help but feel maybe she was getting punished for her indiscretion. Yes, she had cheated on her husband Vikram, but it was not as though their marriage was a functioning one or that they cared much about each other anymore, she thought to herself, to assuage her guilt.

***

Vikram and Mala had been neighbours and friends before their marriage. When both families had started looking for spouses for their wards, the marriage broker had brought their horoscopes together. When their families had suggested the alliance to them, both had agreed readily.

Mala had always liked the sarcastic wit of Vikram and Vikram had always been happy to have someone laugh at his jokes, and though neither of them had actually imagined such an outcome, they were both quite happy at the prospect of being together for the rest of their lives. When people asked them how they had met, he would always say “Ours was a love marriage. Our families loved each other and got us married”.

Things had gone on well in the beginning. He worked for the railways and she taught at a school and though neither of them earned much, they were both content with their lives. The only issue was that there were no issues even after a couple of years. Mala had gone to the doctor and got herself checked and the doctor had been unable to find any reason why she should not conceive.

The doctor had then suggested timing their sex to coincide with her fertile period and she had shared this with Vikram. They tried this for a couple of months, but Vikram found it very difficult to perform when things were planned like this. He would sarcastically announce to visitors “I am like the fortnightly Guwahati express trundling into central station on time everytime”, leaving them wondering what he was talking about while Mala cringed in embarrassment and hoped that they did not get what he was saying.

A few months later, she had gently suggested that Vikram get himself tested. This had not gone down well with him and he had refused to go to the doctor. Finally, with no options, the doctor has suggested they try an in-vitro procedure. Vikram had reluctantly agreed and provided his sperms on request for around 6 months or so, all to no avail.

By then, for whatever reason, he had begun to feel that everyone, especially Mala, thought he was somehow defective and started to distance himself from everyone. One fine day, he had announced that he no longer found the plastic cups in the fertility clinics attractive and had refused to have anything to do with them again. From then, they had also stopped having sex totally.

In all other respects, they appeared a normal, typical, dysfunctional Indian family. Except that they lived more like siblings, always slightly annoyed with each other, but reconciled to living together, as pleasantly as possible, for the rest of their lives. They had, neither of them, ever been much interested or keen on anything and hence they motored along most amicably for the rest of their lives. As years went by Vikram became more sarcastic and Mala found it less and less funny, but none of it had ever led to any great deal of friction ever.

Of course, Mala secretly held Vikram responsible for their lack of children, though once in a while, she would concede that just maybe, her body was to blame for it.

***
After so many years of yearning to get pregnant, now she was three days late and hoping that she wasn’t.

Not wanting to go to the doctor just yet, she decided to go and get herself a home pregnancy test kit. As the pharmacists near her house knew her well, she was not too keen to go to any of the nearby pharmacies. Nor did she want to go to any of those near her school, lest one of her colleagues or, worse, one of the students saw her buying one!

She finally settled for some pharmacy half-way to school. Next thing that worried her was how to ask for it. If she went and asked for a pregnancy kit, would the pharmacist enquire as to who was going to use it? Would he ask “is it for you?”. What would she say then, she wondered. Would he look at her knowingly? Would he think she was a slut for having had sex at her age?. The questions jostled in her head like a bunch of boisterous children shouting “me, me, me!” vying to get the teacher’s attention. Two more days went by while she worked up her courage to face the unknown pharmacist.

Finally, she decided to go in and ask for 10 boxes. That way, no one would think it was for herself. And if anyone asked about whose name to put on the bill, she could just ask them to bill it in the name of Thirumala school of nursing, or something like that. That way they would think she was buying for an institution, she thought, pleased with her deception.

That settled, the next day on the way back from school, she got down mid-way and entered into the nearest pharmacy. The pharmacist, sitting back with his legs on the table, was deeply engrossed in some magazine. Luckily no one else was around. She cleared her throat to get his attention and, in a quiet voice, asked for a home pregnancy kit. He walked to the back shelf and while still keeping his eyes fixed on the magazine, felt around and took one box out. Emboldened by his lack of interest, she requested for one more kit. He fumbled around the shelf some more and then took one more box and plonked them both down on the counter and asked for hundred and fifty rupees. He had still not glanced at her once. Thrilled with the lackadaisical service, She gave him the money, and without bothering to ask for the bill, shoved the two boxes into her purse and left as quickly as possible. She was home about half an hour later than usual, but Vikram, who had also returned from the office by then neither seemed to notice nor care.

She went straight into the bathroom with her purse and opened up one of the boxes to find out how to use it. Unfortunately, the writing on the usage guide inside the box turned out to be too small for her to read. She put on her glasses and strained her eyes, but the letters only swarmed around like miniature ants. At her wits end, she then took her phone out and clicked photos of each side of the slip carefully and then enlarged them to see if they were in focus enough for her to read the instructions clearly. Thankfully they were and she put the box back into her purse and slipped out to her room to switch on the bright light and read them comfortably.

To be used first thing in the morning, the instructions stated. She would have to wait one more day! “That will make it six days late”, she thought, with the tension building up. “Wish I had someone to lean on”, she cried out silently in her mind.

Next morning, she feigned a headache and stayed at home. Vikram left at 8 AM as usual and immediately afterwards she took the kit and used it. There was only one line and not two. What a relief! She was not pregnant after all. Nevertheless, she decided to check again the next day.

Another day, another kit and the same result. “Two kits can’t be wrong”, she thought with relief, before promptly fixing an appointment with the doctor, just to be sure. Despite assurances that the kits were quite accurate and she should not be worried and that it is in all probability the onset of menopause, Mala had insisted on further tests and so, for everyone’s peace of mind, the doctor had suggested a blood test, which, she promised, was definitive.

Wanting to get over all this quickly, Mala went straight to the lab and gave her blood and paid for the test. She no longer cared what the nurse might think. She looked the nurse in the eye while giving her the doctor’s prescription and defiantly thought, ” Yes. I am 54 and I had sex and it was good. So what?”. The nurse on her part appeared as disinterested as the pharmacist.

The next day on the way back from school, she dropped into the lab and picked up the report and took it home. She stepped past Vikram with a “hi” and he acknowledged her with a grunt. She took the report and went into her room and read it. It was clear. She was definitely not pregnant. All the pent up tension evaporated instantly and the long held back tears gushed out. Then she heard Vikram moving about, and not wanting him to see her in that state, she quickly wiped her tears and came out of her room.

That’s when it suddenly struck her. She could never know motherhood in this lifetime. Though she had long reconciled to her fate, the finality of it all smacked her hard and a wracking sob escaped her and the tears started flowing again. Vikram said “What now?” with an exasperated look.

“I have hit menopause”, she blurted out, hoping he would say something kind.

“Great. I don’t have to buy condoms anymore”, he said, “We will be saving tonnes of money from now”.