Sulekha.com
1,800 words
For Convenience’s Sake
“What strikes you most and what you will remember about the place is the sheer magnitude of scale, the gargantuan proportions involved. Imagine a bridge a mile long, carrying a road hundred feet wide for an annual traffic of millions of cars, another ten feet of walkways on either side for millions of pedestrians, and the whole structure supported by two gigantic towers,” he said, sketching the suspension bridge on a paper for clarification.
“Wow!” exclaimed Archana, not looking at the sketch, gazelle eyes wide with wonder.
“It’s not just that. You would think that a colossal thing like that would certainly be imposing, but an ugly blot on the landscape. Nothing could be more wrong. From your vantage point on the bridge, which would be two hundred feet above the water, you look up and see the azure sky, the turquoise-blue expanse of the Pacific on one side and the San Francisco Bay on another; you feel like you are floating with the clouds, no longer on terra firma. Indeed, you feel the whole bridge swaying…” he trailed off, shakiness in his own voice.
“And is it golden?” asked my Archikins, coquettish as ever.
“No, the Golden Gate is orange,” he grinned. “A pleasing contrast with the dull blues, browns and grays of the surrounding landscape.”
I could imagine the bridge reflected in her eyes, its dimensions diminished a million times, but its grandeur intact.
Just like I could imagine their entire conversation, his voice clothing her dreams in gossamer.
Hey Archana, Archie darling, sweet Archikins. In the name of all that was bright and beautiful, and warm and wonderful, why did you go?
“Are you listening, Asutosh?”
“Huh?”
“I thought so,” said Aparna. “You wanted to meet me, right? And now it looks as if I am boring you.”
The similarity to her sister was unmistakable. Her voice had the same gentle, bullying tone as that of a pampered child, demanding to be placated. I hastened to do so, as I had done on countless occasions with Archana.
“No, not at all. I am listening. So she is now in California with her husband?”
“That’s what I said. They went a month ago.”
“What does he do?”
“I don’t know what exactly. But he did mention something in Silicon Valley.”
“What else?” I said, failing to keep the bitterness out of my voice.
She winced, as if she tasted the acerbity in the air.
“What do you mean?”
“Suppose we quit acting, Aparna. You very well know what your sister meant to me.”
“I know Archana and you were friends.”
“Friends!” She could not have picked on a more touchy word if she had wanted to. “Just friends,” I shouted, as if by raising my voice and repeating, I could convey my hurt and sarcasm.
“What’s wrong with you people?” I continued. “That’s what she wrote in her last letter—‘we shall always be friends.’ From where do these ‘always’ and ‘friends’ come suddenly? What do they mean anyway?”
“Look, I don’t—”
“No, you look here Aparna.”
I could not stop myself now. This was not the way I had intended it to be. The vague picture I had in mind was of me sitting composed and stoical throughout, my face depicting the self-restraint and forbearance of a tragic hero. She would sense the suffering behind my impassive mask and realize with a shock how much I had been wronged and the baseness of her sister’s act. But that was not how it was happening.
I found myself talking on and on without a pause as if each word that came out carried away with it some unknown weight from my heart. Words, of which I became aware only after they had tumbled off my tongue. I spoke as if I would never be able to speak again if I was stopped now.
“Perhaps it was just friendship that made us so glad to be in each other’s company and it was because of our friendship that we went to the movies so that for a few hours we could be hidden in our own world alone in the crowd shoulder resting against shoulder palm clasping sweaty palm in the darkness and the dozens of Hallmarks cards and letters with hearts and loves and dreams and wishes and darlings we wrote each trying to be sillier than the other and the unforgettable walks along the beach with the hot sunburnt sand under our bare feet swept away now and then by the chill white surf of the waves and overhead the sea breeze would suddenly push a massive cloud to block out the sun over us and we could see that we were standing in the cool shade of the cloud while outside it the sand burnt as if our love was being protected from above and as we walked grasping hands tightly she holding her sandals in her free hand and I carrying my shoes in mine we did not speak because there was no need to speak to express our happiness because we knew we both were happy oh God that was the happiest moment ever in my life and words were so inadequate…”
In the name of all that was bright and beautiful, and warm and wonderful, why did you go?
As I spoke, my wounds appeared to me deeper and fresher. I grew more convinced of the injustice I had suffered—as it happens when you are not sure of your opinions, the more you hear yourself reiterating them, the more convinced you become. Suddenly, it seemed so easy to surrender and be carried along with the torrent of self-pity.
“And now, my Archikins becomes mature in a span of two months. This is what she writes, ‘…I was immature then. I see now that we can never be more than friends, since I have always thought of you only as a good friend. Your friend, Archana.’
“Why go through all this friendship rigmarole when she could say directly, ‘Look, I am going to throw myself at the first proposal for my hand that comes from USA, because I have to see the Golden Gate and the Empire State Building and the Grand Canyon and all the skyscrapers and the highways. You, Asutosh, can go jump into a well because you like to live in your dirty, stinking hellhole called India. If you think I am going to share it with you, think again.’
“And all the while poor Asutosh is wondering what went wrong where. You know why your sister behaved like that? Just for convenience sake.”
My monologue had deprived Aparna of speech for the past ten minutes. She seemed to have found her tongue at last.
“It’s not all in black-and-white, as you put it.”
I carried on, as if she had never spoken.
“As if I could not have gone to USA had I wanted to. India might be a stupid country, but it’s my stupid country. I don’t mind living in the heat and dust and inefficiency. But she could not bear it; no, not when her eyes were clouded by the misty spray of the Niagara and her conscience drowned in its roar, in her imagination.
“On the one hand there is the beauty and allure of the unseen, the unexplored and on the other there is disillusionment and the stark truth of life experienced and seen. Life here is sweating in the sun and choking in the smoke, there it is pleasant, smooth and noiseless. Of course, convenience wins hands down. So for convenience sake, she kills her conscience, negates her own earlier feelings and even convinces herself that it does not matter who she sleeps with the rest of her life because that way she would be repaying him for providing her a comfortable life and—”
“Shut up!” Aparna was standing, self-righteous indignation glowering from her eyes. “So what have you go against convenience? That anything obtained easily is undeserved and immoral? You still believe that a medicine has to be bitter to be effective.
“Think of her this way. She could not have been independent either here or there, she would have to share someone else’s happiness—either his or yours. You feel that she would not really be sharing his life or happiness, only reflecting it. There would be nothing of her own.
“How would it be different had she chosen you? It’s your decision based on your feelings and your principles that makes you stay here. Perhaps she did not think the same way as you. Perhaps you find it soothing for your ego when people point at you and say, ‘That’s Asutosh, he could have gone to USA, but he did not because he wanted to stay here.’ Would anyone say that she could have married and gone abroad, but she decided to marry and live here? It was always all about you, what was there for her to be happy about except bask in your reflected glory?
“You castigate my sister for seeking convenience and comfort. What about you? Since you opt for a materially less comfortable life, you feel morally justified in all your thoughts and actions. When you return home after work, you look for a doting wife to keep your home happy. Everything divided into neat, convenient compartments—this provides you moral satisfaction, that mental and physical.
“You seek appreciation and admiration at your work and at your home. Who would appreciate her? Not even you, for you would take her servitude and love for granted, as her duty. You might find satisfaction in seeing yourself struggling, plodding on against the odds, for the sake of your principles. You find some masochistic pleasure in your self-pity, playing the victim, the martyr who keeps up a brave front. Why should you expect her to do the same? You…”
I did not hear her last words because I had hurried out. It was getting violent in there. An ego is a fragile thing; it needs all the protection it can get. It has to be packed in cottonwool for you cannot live with a fractured ego for long.
The humidity oppressed me. I felt sorry for myself.
In the name of all that was bright and beautiful, and warm and wonderful, why did you go away forsaking me?
The sun was still there and so were the leaves. But the sun felt less warm and the leaves looked not so green. That’s all right, a little coldness and a little dullness in the air won’t kill me; I think I’ll live.