Tiny Tale: Melancholy



She was stirring the daal with the platter. Like she always does.But this time something was missing.

Cooking was something that used to provide solace to her. Her passion as it was. Not today though. The smell of spices mixing together to form something so mouthwatering, even that couldn’t afford to pull out from her thoughts that were sucking her deeper into its very core.

No, it was nothing! What difference will it make? she convinced herself this time a bit strongly,before shaking her head. As if it would shake off the train of thoughts she had involuntarily jumped into since morning.

and why does it matter anyways? Not that she expected him to behave differently, out of his element it in the first place. A newly wed that she was, what the hell does she knows about him. How was she to know what he likes and what don’t.They didn’t date before marriage. Hell, there wasn’t even a phone call, let alone sharing details about each other. She knows absolutely next to nothing about her new husband. Except the thing about his mercurial temper that she got a glimpse of in the morning. Something she wasn’t interested in witnessing again anytime soon she was sure of.

But with just two of them in the huge penthouse, there wasnt anyone to guide her, to tell her about his likes and dislikes. Her spirits were sky high when her amma told her about the ritual where she had to prepare some sweets for her first rasoi. She had poured all her love and affection in it as she was dying to see his reaction about the kheer she had prepared.

Back in lucknow, she was appreciated for her cooking skills, and that kheer was her specialty. Few ingredients blend together to make something that instantly dissolve in the mouth, the flavor of saffron accentuating the taste, the rich pale yellow color depicting the effort and time it took for milk to loose its existence into forming something so wonderful, coming out as something that instantly soothe nerves of the someone savoring it.

and in the end, she added sugar, the ultimate ingredient to complete the dish. Stirring it quickly to blend it with the viscous kheer. she watched in awe as the tiny sugar particles dissolve themselves, as if sacrificing their identity, thus attaining nirvana. Sharing their sweetness.This is what she loves. She had watched it with all the love in her eyes, as she secretly hoped he would enjoy it as much as she was doing preparing it.

and then it all backfired.

He took one spoonful in his mouth and instantly spat it back. He wasn’t much of a talker but he wasn’t the one to hide displeasure as well, that she knew now. ‘what the hell is this?” he hadn’t yelled. It was tight but no where calm.No where warm. Embarrassment crept up her cheeks along with the familiar pang of guilt that she had failed him yet again. Shoving the plate away and muttering something under his breath , he had left. Left before sparing her a disinterested glance.

and khushi has been cursing herself since then. What was she expecting from him. To jump up in joy? To appreciate her skills?

or to acknowledge something his wife has done?!?

That was the unanswered question among all.

He wasn’t happy with this arrange marriage. He hadn’t outright said but she wasn’t naive enough to continue seeing the world through her rose tinted glasses. She don’t know what goes inside that head of his. A lot, by the way he act around her. And as each day was progressing, she felt her spirits soaring downwards and she wasn’t getting the glimpse of hope that she could clutch in her hands tightly.

Her cell on the kitchen platform pinged thus dragging her out from the depressing thoughts.

I am diabetic

3 words.

A one liner message it was from him,  but carried the pocketful of hopes inside for her hearts thumped louder by the wave of emotions it created throughout her body. It wasnt an apology but an explanation. An justification of what he did earlier. But to her, it felt way more than a sorry. A chance. A hope. She felt her melancholy leaving into thin air..bit by bits..pieces by pieces.

As if her hopes just got a lifeline.

As if someone has just thrown a rope to the one who is drowning.

As if first rays of sunshine falling on a tiny sapling.

The warmth spread all over her face as she stirred the daal again.

but the flare was back now!

15 thoughts on “Tiny Tale: Melancholy

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