Stint thy blame man! 'Twill drive to a passion without bound;
My fault is not so heavy as fault in it hast found.
If true lover I become, then to me there cometh not
Save what happened unto many in the by-gone stound.
For wonderful is he and right worthy of our praise
Who from whiles of female wits kept him safe and kept him sound.
- Arabian Nights, pp: 13
Sunday, 2 October 2011
Art and the Pujas
The Pujo is here! Goddess Durga has come down to Earth with her two daughters and two sons and it is a time for rejoicing, but she will soon be gone, back to her abode at Mount Kailash. And there will start another wait till she comes again next year.
People all over Bengal do their utmost to make Her stay on Earth as pleasurable as possible by building pandals and idols of exquisite form and beauty. The idols and pandals are a work of art - art that is as temporal as Her stay. And that I feel is tragic.
Artists, sculptors, architects and designers get together and toil for months to create monuments with bamboo, cloth, straw, cardboard, thermocol and other items of temporal construction (even buiscuits and candy!) that are built to the model of temples, churches, mosques, historic buildings and even ships. The effort that goes into the construction of these aweinspiring pandals is gargantuan in proportion and deserves all the praise.
The idols are also works of art, examples of exquisite sculptures. They come in various sizes and shapes. Sometimes all five members of Goddess Durga's family are put together and sometimes they are paired and at other times they are created individually. They are adorned with intricately designed ornaments and dresses that would put any emperor to shame. The idols are made mostly of clay, but sculptors also create idols from straw, from wood-shavings, from paper, from chalk, and from other materials.
The sad part of this is the end - these works of art last only for the duration of the pujas, after which they are dismantled or sold off in pieces. It does not feel right that these works of art should stop existing so soon and so easily. We need some way of preserving them, but their size and their number are too daunting for any conservationist programme. It is almost impossible to preserve them. It is very difficult to preserve pandals that replicate the Ajanta Caves or the Taj Mahal or the White House, and are at least 20 feet tall and covers the area of a football field. Where do you keep such pandals, how does one preserve them? But I think if we try a little harder, we might be able to preserve the idols. They do not take up so much space as the pandals, but even then we would require a huge space for preserving them as thousands are created every year but only a hundred can be regarded as works of art.
I hope that the pujas bring joy to everyone and everyone enjoys themselves as I will, but at the same time I wish I could do something to preserve these works of art. Anyone has any ideas?
People all over Bengal do their utmost to make Her stay on Earth as pleasurable as possible by building pandals and idols of exquisite form and beauty. The idols and pandals are a work of art - art that is as temporal as Her stay. And that I feel is tragic.
Artists, sculptors, architects and designers get together and toil for months to create monuments with bamboo, cloth, straw, cardboard, thermocol and other items of temporal construction (even buiscuits and candy!) that are built to the model of temples, churches, mosques, historic buildings and even ships. The effort that goes into the construction of these aweinspiring pandals is gargantuan in proportion and deserves all the praise.
The idols are also works of art, examples of exquisite sculptures. They come in various sizes and shapes. Sometimes all five members of Goddess Durga's family are put together and sometimes they are paired and at other times they are created individually. They are adorned with intricately designed ornaments and dresses that would put any emperor to shame. The idols are made mostly of clay, but sculptors also create idols from straw, from wood-shavings, from paper, from chalk, and from other materials.
The sad part of this is the end - these works of art last only for the duration of the pujas, after which they are dismantled or sold off in pieces. It does not feel right that these works of art should stop existing so soon and so easily. We need some way of preserving them, but their size and their number are too daunting for any conservationist programme. It is almost impossible to preserve them. It is very difficult to preserve pandals that replicate the Ajanta Caves or the Taj Mahal or the White House, and are at least 20 feet tall and covers the area of a football field. Where do you keep such pandals, how does one preserve them? But I think if we try a little harder, we might be able to preserve the idols. They do not take up so much space as the pandals, but even then we would require a huge space for preserving them as thousands are created every year but only a hundred can be regarded as works of art.
I hope that the pujas bring joy to everyone and everyone enjoys themselves as I will, but at the same time I wish I could do something to preserve these works of art. Anyone has any ideas?
Friday, 30 September 2011
Nights on trains
Have you ever travelled in an AC compartment in a train? Have you ever walked across the aisle from one end of the compartment to the other in the middle of the night? If you have, you will understand what I am talking about. The AC compartment at night is very eerie feel to it if you have an active imagination.
People in an AC compartment tend to fall asleep very early, most probably to enjoy their sleep in that cool environment. Every passenger is supplied with their own set of bedding – two white bedsheets, a blanket, a thin pillow, and a hand towel. Almost everyone makes good use of these. As the hands of the clock cross nine o’clock, one by one the passengers start getting ready for bed. The middle berth is pulled up, people jostle to make way for the person trying to make his or her bed, good Samaritans help others make their bed, some line up near the bathrooms to wash or brush, and one after the other the lights begin to get switched off. Voices die down and the whole compartment is silent and almost dark within two hours.
If you wake up in the middle of the night, all you will hear is the rumble of the train. You will the slight swaying and, for the first time, you will be conscious of the bluish atmosphere inside the compartment. With your eyes attuned to the dark, the faint blue glow from the night bulbs seem all pervading. The bluish hue takes on a deathly feel as its effect is exacerbated by the powerful silence. For a weak hearted person, just registering this atmosphere is sufficient to make the hair at the back of his or her neck stand on end. But it does not end here – the eerie feeling I mean. This is just the backdrop.
With the atmosphere all set for a murder mystery, take a walk from one end of the compartment to the other. The only thing you notice during this walk is bodies covered with white cloth lying around throughout the compartment. These white figures lie motionless, only the ends of the cloth moving with the breeze or with the sway of the train. This, my dear friends, is very scary if you have an active imagination and if you have been brought up on horror stories and murder mysteries. Even today it gives me the gooseflesh to walk across the AC compartment in the middle of the night. But do not get caught up in the moment as you will be scared to the bone when this overpowering silence is broken by a moan or a creak or when a white figure suddenly stirs. One of my friends almost screamed when she heard a moan in the middle of the night.
But if you can neglect this minor discomfort, train travel in an AC compartment is quite pleasant. The climate inside the compartment is much pleasanter than outside and this makes me sleep like a log – and I love to sleep.
People in an AC compartment tend to fall asleep very early, most probably to enjoy their sleep in that cool environment. Every passenger is supplied with their own set of bedding – two white bedsheets, a blanket, a thin pillow, and a hand towel. Almost everyone makes good use of these. As the hands of the clock cross nine o’clock, one by one the passengers start getting ready for bed. The middle berth is pulled up, people jostle to make way for the person trying to make his or her bed, good Samaritans help others make their bed, some line up near the bathrooms to wash or brush, and one after the other the lights begin to get switched off. Voices die down and the whole compartment is silent and almost dark within two hours.
If you wake up in the middle of the night, all you will hear is the rumble of the train. You will the slight swaying and, for the first time, you will be conscious of the bluish atmosphere inside the compartment. With your eyes attuned to the dark, the faint blue glow from the night bulbs seem all pervading. The bluish hue takes on a deathly feel as its effect is exacerbated by the powerful silence. For a weak hearted person, just registering this atmosphere is sufficient to make the hair at the back of his or her neck stand on end. But it does not end here – the eerie feeling I mean. This is just the backdrop.
With the atmosphere all set for a murder mystery, take a walk from one end of the compartment to the other. The only thing you notice during this walk is bodies covered with white cloth lying around throughout the compartment. These white figures lie motionless, only the ends of the cloth moving with the breeze or with the sway of the train. This, my dear friends, is very scary if you have an active imagination and if you have been brought up on horror stories and murder mysteries. Even today it gives me the gooseflesh to walk across the AC compartment in the middle of the night. But do not get caught up in the moment as you will be scared to the bone when this overpowering silence is broken by a moan or a creak or when a white figure suddenly stirs. One of my friends almost screamed when she heard a moan in the middle of the night.
But if you can neglect this minor discomfort, train travel in an AC compartment is quite pleasant. The climate inside the compartment is much pleasanter than outside and this makes me sleep like a log – and I love to sleep.
Wednesday, 21 September 2011
JCopia 4.7.0
Have you ever thought how to download video and audio from flash players on internet sites
like Youtube, Google Video, MySpace, DailyMotion, Metacafe, Break, Blog sites of your friends
with embedded audio and video content and so on?
So, JCopia does it all. It captures flash video / audio / stream from any website to your
computer as files. Just play your media online and watch as JCopia saves any clip / music /
movie to your computer.
JCopia detects and begins to download any clip, video, music, radio stream, video stream,
Flash game or presentation that is played in your browser. Increase your video and audio
collection with JCopia now!
It is a very convenient tool for collections video and audio files on disk.
Download and install JCopia 4.7.0:
http://jiteco.com/download/jcopia/jcopia.exe
like Youtube, Google Video, MySpace, DailyMotion, Metacafe, Break, Blog sites of your friends
with embedded audio and video content and so on?
So, JCopia does it all. It captures flash video / audio / stream from any website to your
computer as files. Just play your media online and watch as JCopia saves any clip / music /
movie to your computer.
JCopia detects and begins to download any clip, video, music, radio stream, video stream,
Flash game or presentation that is played in your browser. Increase your video and audio
collection with JCopia now!
It is a very convenient tool for collections video and audio files on disk.
Download and install JCopia 4.7.0:
http://jiteco.com/download/jcopia/jcopia.exe
Monday, 13 June 2011
Playing With Fire
It was raining hard as I drove slowly down the road heading for the Cafe. It was almost 8 at night and it had been raining for the past two hours. Traffic was sparce and hardly any pedestrians were to be seen. As I drove slowly down I remembered a similar evening. It was almost a year and a half now.
I had been married for almost two years to a girl I had been dating for a few months. My wife is pretty and smart and it was her smile that I fell in love with when I met her. Our marriage was going smoothly and none of us wanted any kids till a few years later. She had a job, I had mine. But somehow, after a few months of marriage, the chemistry between us was not working. We were becoming too involved with our own individual existence. But we rarely quarrelled and had our own sweet moments.
It was at such a juncture that I met Rebecca. She worked in the office right across mine. She was a marketing executive. We met at the local coffee shop during lunch break and hit it instantly. She had a tantalizing charm and I was my chivalrous best. Soon the meetings at the coffee shop became a regular affair. I did not turn up one day and she called me up on my cell phone to know whether I was fine. It was a great friendship and slowly it became more than that – much more than that. She became my passion, my obsession. We exchanged sms and often called each other up secretly.
I became a changed man. I was enthusiastic to go to my office for the first time in my life, spent lesser and lesser time at home, the dinners became more silent and I slept well. I began to spend time with Rebecca after work, calling up my wife to say that I had some work and would be late. Rebecca was unmarried and did not mind the fact that I was. We got drunk and things proceeded to the ultimate level. But this was to become a ritual.
But the ease with which I had got involved in the relationship with Rebecca was slowly passing. We were two months in the relationship and I was a feeling very slightly guilty about cheating on my wife. Not that I cared about her too much, now that Rebecca had completely charmed me.
It was my wife’s birthday the next day and Rebecca had also asked me to come over on the same day because she wanted to celebrate her promotion. She promised me a great time and I was looking forward to it. I had got her a necklace and was dying to see it on her neck. My wife had other plans though. She wanted to throw a small party for our close friends at 9 in the evening and Rebecca had asked me to come over at 7. Now, who is going to go to a birthday party? I told my wife that I had some work at the office that I had to finish that night and so would be late but I shall surely do my best to come home early for the celebrations.
Office got over at around 6:30 and it was a 40 minutes drive to Rebecca’s place. It was raining heavily, like it is now, and it was darker than usual. I had to drive slowly in the downpour and as I reached the main road the engine gave a grinding sound and stopped. I checked my fuel meter but it did not indicate any problem. I tried starting the car but it was no use. I got out in the pouring rain and opened the hood to check what was wrong. Smoke was coming out of the engine and there was the smell of burnt rubber and metal. I realised that it was not something I could fix by myself.
It was 7:30 already and I decided to call up Rebecca and say that I would be late, but that was not to be. I had kept my phone in my pocket and the rain water had ruined it. I was now stuck. There were no phone booths in sight and none of the cabs that passed me were empty. I could not even call the garage. I was soaking wet by now and did not want to get into the car as it would ruin the new seat covers that I had installed. I stood there outside my car trying to figure out my next plan of action – how do I reach Rebecca’s place or inform her.
A car screeched to a halt a few meters ahead of me and them reversed to where I was standing. The window rolled down to reveal a friend. He offered to give me a ride – home! He did not even ask me whether I wanted to go home and I refrained from speaking my mind.
Drenched to my bone, I reached my home at around quarter to nine. My wife was clearly very pleased to see me. She looked at the packet under my arm and asked, “Is that my gift?”
I fumbled and handed the packet over to her. I did not know what else to do. I was not prepared to meet my wife. She opened the packet and found the necklace that I had planned to give Rebecca.
Her joy knew no bound. This was the first gift I was giving to her for months.
“It is very beautiful. You got this for me?”
“Do you like it?”
“Do I like it? I love it. Thank you so much.” And she gave me a tight hug, as she had never done. She held my hands and said, “I have something to tell you. Come with me.”
She led me to the bedroom, made me sit down on the bed and stood in front of me. Looking at me long and hard she said, “I know you have been having a relationship with another woman for sometime now.”
I gulped. I had been caught. This was the end of it all. Why was I such a fool? Why did I have to run after another woman when I already love my wife? She was standing there right in front of me, looking gorgeous in her blue dress and somehow I did not want to lose her now. I felt so guilty that I prayed the earth would swallow me. I tried to speak, tried to tell her that I was sorry, that I loved her – but no sound came out.
“You had been acting weirdly for the past two months and I suspected that something was wrong. Then when you started staying late in the office regularly my suspicion rose. I called your office five different days and every time they told me that you had left a long time back. My suspicion was confirmed when I saw you in the evening one day with a woman with your arm around her. I even saw the sms she sent you yesterday asking you to come over this evening. So I decided to test your love for me. If you had not come home for my birthday you would have had it from me. But since it seems you still love me and care for me enough to leave that woman and come for my birthday party, and cared to buy such a lovely gift, I will give you a chance to redeem yourself and come back to me. Look dear, I love you. I really do. What is wrong with us that you need another woman in your life?”
I was speechless. I somehow felt very guilty and relieved at the same time. I held her close to me and professed my love and told her how sorry I was. I asked her to give me another chance and told her that I would break up with Rebecca the next day. We cried together and I had never felt happier with my wife. The birthday party was just so great. I could not take my eyes off my lovely, amazing wife. Destiny had averted a catastrophe and I thanked the powers to be for saving our marriage. I broke up with Rebecca the next morning and never met her or called her again.
That was almost a year and a half ago on a night like this. I am still with my wife, who has now gone to her parents house for a few days, and I still love her. I drive slowly towards the cafe which is still a few kilometres away. A woman is waiting for me there. Her name is Alice and she is just gorgeous. She is witty and has mesmerized me. My wife does not know about it, I am sure. At least I have learnt something from my last mistakes.
I had been married for almost two years to a girl I had been dating for a few months. My wife is pretty and smart and it was her smile that I fell in love with when I met her. Our marriage was going smoothly and none of us wanted any kids till a few years later. She had a job, I had mine. But somehow, after a few months of marriage, the chemistry between us was not working. We were becoming too involved with our own individual existence. But we rarely quarrelled and had our own sweet moments.
It was at such a juncture that I met Rebecca. She worked in the office right across mine. She was a marketing executive. We met at the local coffee shop during lunch break and hit it instantly. She had a tantalizing charm and I was my chivalrous best. Soon the meetings at the coffee shop became a regular affair. I did not turn up one day and she called me up on my cell phone to know whether I was fine. It was a great friendship and slowly it became more than that – much more than that. She became my passion, my obsession. We exchanged sms and often called each other up secretly.
I became a changed man. I was enthusiastic to go to my office for the first time in my life, spent lesser and lesser time at home, the dinners became more silent and I slept well. I began to spend time with Rebecca after work, calling up my wife to say that I had some work and would be late. Rebecca was unmarried and did not mind the fact that I was. We got drunk and things proceeded to the ultimate level. But this was to become a ritual.
But the ease with which I had got involved in the relationship with Rebecca was slowly passing. We were two months in the relationship and I was a feeling very slightly guilty about cheating on my wife. Not that I cared about her too much, now that Rebecca had completely charmed me.
It was my wife’s birthday the next day and Rebecca had also asked me to come over on the same day because she wanted to celebrate her promotion. She promised me a great time and I was looking forward to it. I had got her a necklace and was dying to see it on her neck. My wife had other plans though. She wanted to throw a small party for our close friends at 9 in the evening and Rebecca had asked me to come over at 7. Now, who is going to go to a birthday party? I told my wife that I had some work at the office that I had to finish that night and so would be late but I shall surely do my best to come home early for the celebrations.
Office got over at around 6:30 and it was a 40 minutes drive to Rebecca’s place. It was raining heavily, like it is now, and it was darker than usual. I had to drive slowly in the downpour and as I reached the main road the engine gave a grinding sound and stopped. I checked my fuel meter but it did not indicate any problem. I tried starting the car but it was no use. I got out in the pouring rain and opened the hood to check what was wrong. Smoke was coming out of the engine and there was the smell of burnt rubber and metal. I realised that it was not something I could fix by myself.
It was 7:30 already and I decided to call up Rebecca and say that I would be late, but that was not to be. I had kept my phone in my pocket and the rain water had ruined it. I was now stuck. There were no phone booths in sight and none of the cabs that passed me were empty. I could not even call the garage. I was soaking wet by now and did not want to get into the car as it would ruin the new seat covers that I had installed. I stood there outside my car trying to figure out my next plan of action – how do I reach Rebecca’s place or inform her.
A car screeched to a halt a few meters ahead of me and them reversed to where I was standing. The window rolled down to reveal a friend. He offered to give me a ride – home! He did not even ask me whether I wanted to go home and I refrained from speaking my mind.
Drenched to my bone, I reached my home at around quarter to nine. My wife was clearly very pleased to see me. She looked at the packet under my arm and asked, “Is that my gift?”
I fumbled and handed the packet over to her. I did not know what else to do. I was not prepared to meet my wife. She opened the packet and found the necklace that I had planned to give Rebecca.
Her joy knew no bound. This was the first gift I was giving to her for months.
“It is very beautiful. You got this for me?”
“Do you like it?”
“Do I like it? I love it. Thank you so much.” And she gave me a tight hug, as she had never done. She held my hands and said, “I have something to tell you. Come with me.”
She led me to the bedroom, made me sit down on the bed and stood in front of me. Looking at me long and hard she said, “I know you have been having a relationship with another woman for sometime now.”
I gulped. I had been caught. This was the end of it all. Why was I such a fool? Why did I have to run after another woman when I already love my wife? She was standing there right in front of me, looking gorgeous in her blue dress and somehow I did not want to lose her now. I felt so guilty that I prayed the earth would swallow me. I tried to speak, tried to tell her that I was sorry, that I loved her – but no sound came out.
“You had been acting weirdly for the past two months and I suspected that something was wrong. Then when you started staying late in the office regularly my suspicion rose. I called your office five different days and every time they told me that you had left a long time back. My suspicion was confirmed when I saw you in the evening one day with a woman with your arm around her. I even saw the sms she sent you yesterday asking you to come over this evening. So I decided to test your love for me. If you had not come home for my birthday you would have had it from me. But since it seems you still love me and care for me enough to leave that woman and come for my birthday party, and cared to buy such a lovely gift, I will give you a chance to redeem yourself and come back to me. Look dear, I love you. I really do. What is wrong with us that you need another woman in your life?”
I was speechless. I somehow felt very guilty and relieved at the same time. I held her close to me and professed my love and told her how sorry I was. I asked her to give me another chance and told her that I would break up with Rebecca the next day. We cried together and I had never felt happier with my wife. The birthday party was just so great. I could not take my eyes off my lovely, amazing wife. Destiny had averted a catastrophe and I thanked the powers to be for saving our marriage. I broke up with Rebecca the next morning and never met her or called her again.
That was almost a year and a half ago on a night like this. I am still with my wife, who has now gone to her parents house for a few days, and I still love her. I drive slowly towards the cafe which is still a few kilometres away. A woman is waiting for me there. Her name is Alice and she is just gorgeous. She is witty and has mesmerized me. My wife does not know about it, I am sure. At least I have learnt something from my last mistakes.
Sunday, 12 June 2011
Was It Me or Was It Her
Relationships have always puzzled me. They have rules and yet they have none. There is trust and yet there is mistrust. I have been in two relationships and I still have not figured out how to make them work. I have seen some of my friends balancing their relationships with their girlfriends and wives so beautifully; some have even had two or more simultaneous relationships and they have never failed. But I somehow have not been able to get a hang of things.
My first relationship was weird. The girl was a sweet girl, about my age. I was about to complete my schooling and had a lot of friends. Almost everyone had a girlfriend or more and they used to sneek out to meet them. I used to be the lookout. It had been going on for years and I decided that it was time I had a girlfriend. I knew this girl and thought that she was cute and proposed to her one evening. She did not say a ‘yes’ right then but every indication was towards it. So we started meeting and secretly calling.
The first few weeks were exciting, then it was okay and then it began to become a burden. I was not ready to miss my football games in the evening with my friends just to meet her and talk to her. And very soon I did not have anything to talk to her about except our parents and some common friends and even this became very boring after some time. So I decided that it was time to quit and conveyed the message to her. But she was not ready for it and she cried and I decided that I should give it another chance.
But it was not to be. I gave the proposal of quitting a number of times but everytime she cried and I decided to give it another chance. Finally I decided to call it quits and walked out of the relationship with her screaming abuses at me. I deserved it but we were not meant to be. That was that.
After that I had a crush on every girl I met. There have been so many girls I had a crush on that I do not even remember 90% of their names or faces. I went to college and then to university and then got a job and I still was having crushes when I met my wife-to-be.
My wife is a beautiful girl. I have not seen anyone prettier than her. She is fairer than the moon and her hair is darker than the darkest night. Her eyes sparkle when she talks and her laughter is like the gurgling of a spring fountain. She has a mischievous smile that always has its effect on me. She is intelligent and very sharp.
I met her at my friend’s party and had a crush on her the moment she smiled at me. But I dismissed the incident as just another crush that was to pass within a day or two. But days rolled into weeks and weeks into months and I knew I was in love with her. After I met her, I have not had a crush on any other girl – except movie stars. I courted her for a few months. All my friends said that it was too short a time to know anyone but I was in love. Madly in love. And out of sheer madness for her, I asked her to marry me. She agreed and we got married. We had an amazing honeymoon and the first few months of the marriage was brilliant. I was living my dream. Everything was happening as I wanted them to be. But things have a mind of their own and everything would not be the same for long.
One day she was supposed to wait for me at the mall. I was to meet her there after my office got over. I completed my work before time and left the office a bit early so that she would not have to wait for long. I got my car and drove off in the direction of the mall which was about 40 minutes drive away from my office. Everything was going well when all of a sudden the engine of my car sputtered and my car came to a grinding halt. Even with my best efforts I could not start the engine.
I am not a mechanic so I gave up trying to figure out what was wrong and soon gave up trying to start the engine. I was stranded in the middle of a kilometre and a half flyover. I decided to call a cab but all the cabs that passed my way was occupied. Then I tried to hitch a ride but that failed too. Finally, I called up the local garage and asked them to haul my car and walked to the nearest bus stand which was a kilometre away and reached the mall an hour and a half late.
True to her word, my wife was waiting for me at the shop she mentioned. She gave me the look that meant that she would eat me alive if only she was cannibal enough. She pouted her lips and led me to a corner and said to me in a suppressed angry voice, “You are late!”
“I know baby, I am late. I am so sorry but my car broke down and I could not get transport.”
“Don’t call me baby! I am not your baby! And don’t give me those lame excuses. You are late.”
“But my car really broke down. Call the garage and see for yourself.”
“Don’t give me that crap! You could have taken a cab if you had wanted.”
“I tried that but it was in the middle of a flyover and none was available.”
“Don’t you tell me all those stories. You could have got transportation only if you had wanted. But you do not care about me. So I guess it is fine!”
She left me there speechless and walked away still pouting.
I never served myself at dinner or at lunch. It was always her. I used to sit at the table while she served the rice and the other dishes. But I did wait till she had served herself too before I started. Seeing me wait for her she always used to cock her left eye and say “Should I also feed you?” But over time she began to be irritated by it. There was another incident I remember.
It was winter. We had gone out for a walk one Sunday and I had lent her my hooded jumper as she was feeling chilly. She always used to pull the hood on when she wore a jumper. This time also she did the same. I did not give that jumper for washing and it was a few days later when she stormed into the bedroom at night holding my jumper. Her face was red and I knew instantly that something was wrong. She held the jumper under my nose and said, “What is this?”
“This is my jumper,” I replied.
This made her more angry. Pointing at a strand of hair she said, “Whose hair is this?”
I was a little taken aback and said, “How should I know whose hair is this?”
“Don’t lie to me! This is the hair of a girl. I know it! Whose hair is this?”
“I don’t know. I have not been with any woman lately.”
“WHAT! You have been with other women earlier!?”
“No! No! I mean I have not been near enough to a woman that her hair would cling to my jumper.”
She refused to believe me and said, “Please tell me, are you seeing anyone else?”
I was shocked. I said, “No, absolutely not! It must be your hair.”
She took the strand of hair in her fingers and minutely examined it for a few minutes, which seemed like eternity to me. I did not know what I was to expect next.
Examination complete, she looked at me and said, “It is my hair, but how come it is on your jumper? You have not cleaned your jumper have you?”
“It has been a few days since I last gave it for washing.”
“You dirty pig!” She pouted her lips, got up and left the room.
I did not know what to make of it. I was not at all prepared for the double assault.
It was not that she suspected any infidelity. It was just her way of showing her possessiveness. She did not mind my ogling at young girls or flirting with a few in front of her. She even encouraged and teased me. She also had her crushes, especially fair, clean shaven men with glasses were her favourites. Needless to say, I hated them. I guess this was a result of us not getting into fights. I could not quarrel or fight with her. I had a tough time counteracting her verbal salvos, but the most devastating effect was her eyes which sparkled whenever she quarrelled – and that mesmerises me. I could not fight after that so I used to give up very easily. But I was a pain to her too. I used to agree to something that I did not like just to avoid a fight, and when the time came, I did what I felt right. This infuriated her. People always saw her screaming at me or fighting with me but never saw the underhands I played her. Obviously they called her a bitch.
I still remember that day. I had just come out of the shower and was getting ready to go to a friend’s place. She borrowed my cell phone to message a friend of her’s. I was combing my hair when she said, “What is this?”
I turned around and she held out my phone. I took it from her and read a message I had sent to my secretary in which I had called her ‘sweetheart’. My secretary was a young woman, not that attractive but efficient. My wife knew that I called almost everyone a sweetheart but I expected an explosion, as that was her nature.
I fumbled a bit for words and did my explaining, bracing myself for the onslaught.
But the onslaught never came.
She said, “Oh!” Took back the phone, sent her sms and walked out of the room.
Then and there I knew something was wrong. I pestered her to tell me what was wrong but she always said that everything was fine.
But from that day she started becoming cold towards me and became irritable.
The final nail in the coffin was my stroke. We had gone out for dinner with a mutual friend of ours. She is a very close friend of my wife’s and the sister of my friend. At the table the discussion turned to having babies. This friend said that a woman needs to exercise regularly to stay fit and that my wife should also exercise (my wife is averse to exercising, yet she has a good figure). I agreed on this point and made the most humiliating comment of all. I said that if my wife does not exercise she will not have a proper delivery and we will not have a healthy child. I realised my mistake only when I looked at her face. She was looking out of the window with her face red in anger and embarrassment. If I have to ever change anything in my past, it would be to rectify this event. It does not matter how sorry I am for what I did, the fact remains that I did it and I cannot undo it.
I tried many ways to make her happy but all of them backfired. She slowly lost interest in me and began to be irritated by everything I did. I had grand plans for us but these became grand failures both due to my mistiming and due to circumstances. In the end she said that she needed space. But the space she needed could only be achieved in a new house and she left the house and filed for divorce.
I realized that I was losing her. So I begged her to stay but she could not stand me any longer. My friends and her friends told me that it was unmanly for me to beg her to come back, but she was MY wife, not theirs. I love her and could not let her go so easily. So I tried, but failed. I soon realised that she did not want me in her life in any way, so I decided to push her away. I called her up and sent her messages to irritate her and she called me names. But after everything, I succeeded in making her hate me. She said that she never loved me but I know that she did and she knows that she did.
We got divorced a few weeks back and now I am in a contemplative mood. The divorce was mutual as we both did not want a court case. The property was divided and things did not go out of hand till later. I still love my wife, still remember her smile and laugh. I remember the promise I made to her that I shall never make her cry and protect her and how miserably I have failed at that. Most people around me blame her for the fiasco but they do not know the whole story.I had become too possessive and stifled her. I was obsessed with her. I trusted a few friends and told them the story but they were too eager to fabricate it and spread it to portray her in a bad light. I have maintained my distance from them.
But I still wonder, after knowing everything, what exactly went wrong? Was I not suited for her or was she not suited for me or was the timing wrong? She once told me that I know how to love but had no clue about how to be loved. I love her, I love her madly. I really do. Thank goodness we did not have children; the separation would have been much more painful. She loves children.
My first relationship was weird. The girl was a sweet girl, about my age. I was about to complete my schooling and had a lot of friends. Almost everyone had a girlfriend or more and they used to sneek out to meet them. I used to be the lookout. It had been going on for years and I decided that it was time I had a girlfriend. I knew this girl and thought that she was cute and proposed to her one evening. She did not say a ‘yes’ right then but every indication was towards it. So we started meeting and secretly calling.
The first few weeks were exciting, then it was okay and then it began to become a burden. I was not ready to miss my football games in the evening with my friends just to meet her and talk to her. And very soon I did not have anything to talk to her about except our parents and some common friends and even this became very boring after some time. So I decided that it was time to quit and conveyed the message to her. But she was not ready for it and she cried and I decided that I should give it another chance.
But it was not to be. I gave the proposal of quitting a number of times but everytime she cried and I decided to give it another chance. Finally I decided to call it quits and walked out of the relationship with her screaming abuses at me. I deserved it but we were not meant to be. That was that.
After that I had a crush on every girl I met. There have been so many girls I had a crush on that I do not even remember 90% of their names or faces. I went to college and then to university and then got a job and I still was having crushes when I met my wife-to-be.
My wife is a beautiful girl. I have not seen anyone prettier than her. She is fairer than the moon and her hair is darker than the darkest night. Her eyes sparkle when she talks and her laughter is like the gurgling of a spring fountain. She has a mischievous smile that always has its effect on me. She is intelligent and very sharp.
I met her at my friend’s party and had a crush on her the moment she smiled at me. But I dismissed the incident as just another crush that was to pass within a day or two. But days rolled into weeks and weeks into months and I knew I was in love with her. After I met her, I have not had a crush on any other girl – except movie stars. I courted her for a few months. All my friends said that it was too short a time to know anyone but I was in love. Madly in love. And out of sheer madness for her, I asked her to marry me. She agreed and we got married. We had an amazing honeymoon and the first few months of the marriage was brilliant. I was living my dream. Everything was happening as I wanted them to be. But things have a mind of their own and everything would not be the same for long.
One day she was supposed to wait for me at the mall. I was to meet her there after my office got over. I completed my work before time and left the office a bit early so that she would not have to wait for long. I got my car and drove off in the direction of the mall which was about 40 minutes drive away from my office. Everything was going well when all of a sudden the engine of my car sputtered and my car came to a grinding halt. Even with my best efforts I could not start the engine.
I am not a mechanic so I gave up trying to figure out what was wrong and soon gave up trying to start the engine. I was stranded in the middle of a kilometre and a half flyover. I decided to call a cab but all the cabs that passed my way was occupied. Then I tried to hitch a ride but that failed too. Finally, I called up the local garage and asked them to haul my car and walked to the nearest bus stand which was a kilometre away and reached the mall an hour and a half late.
True to her word, my wife was waiting for me at the shop she mentioned. She gave me the look that meant that she would eat me alive if only she was cannibal enough. She pouted her lips and led me to a corner and said to me in a suppressed angry voice, “You are late!”
“I know baby, I am late. I am so sorry but my car broke down and I could not get transport.”
“Don’t call me baby! I am not your baby! And don’t give me those lame excuses. You are late.”
“But my car really broke down. Call the garage and see for yourself.”
“Don’t give me that crap! You could have taken a cab if you had wanted.”
“I tried that but it was in the middle of a flyover and none was available.”
“Don’t you tell me all those stories. You could have got transportation only if you had wanted. But you do not care about me. So I guess it is fine!”
She left me there speechless and walked away still pouting.
I never served myself at dinner or at lunch. It was always her. I used to sit at the table while she served the rice and the other dishes. But I did wait till she had served herself too before I started. Seeing me wait for her she always used to cock her left eye and say “Should I also feed you?” But over time she began to be irritated by it. There was another incident I remember.
It was winter. We had gone out for a walk one Sunday and I had lent her my hooded jumper as she was feeling chilly. She always used to pull the hood on when she wore a jumper. This time also she did the same. I did not give that jumper for washing and it was a few days later when she stormed into the bedroom at night holding my jumper. Her face was red and I knew instantly that something was wrong. She held the jumper under my nose and said, “What is this?”
“This is my jumper,” I replied.
This made her more angry. Pointing at a strand of hair she said, “Whose hair is this?”
I was a little taken aback and said, “How should I know whose hair is this?”
“Don’t lie to me! This is the hair of a girl. I know it! Whose hair is this?”
“I don’t know. I have not been with any woman lately.”
“WHAT! You have been with other women earlier!?”
“No! No! I mean I have not been near enough to a woman that her hair would cling to my jumper.”
She refused to believe me and said, “Please tell me, are you seeing anyone else?”
I was shocked. I said, “No, absolutely not! It must be your hair.”
She took the strand of hair in her fingers and minutely examined it for a few minutes, which seemed like eternity to me. I did not know what I was to expect next.
Examination complete, she looked at me and said, “It is my hair, but how come it is on your jumper? You have not cleaned your jumper have you?”
“It has been a few days since I last gave it for washing.”
“You dirty pig!” She pouted her lips, got up and left the room.
I did not know what to make of it. I was not at all prepared for the double assault.
It was not that she suspected any infidelity. It was just her way of showing her possessiveness. She did not mind my ogling at young girls or flirting with a few in front of her. She even encouraged and teased me. She also had her crushes, especially fair, clean shaven men with glasses were her favourites. Needless to say, I hated them. I guess this was a result of us not getting into fights. I could not quarrel or fight with her. I had a tough time counteracting her verbal salvos, but the most devastating effect was her eyes which sparkled whenever she quarrelled – and that mesmerises me. I could not fight after that so I used to give up very easily. But I was a pain to her too. I used to agree to something that I did not like just to avoid a fight, and when the time came, I did what I felt right. This infuriated her. People always saw her screaming at me or fighting with me but never saw the underhands I played her. Obviously they called her a bitch.
I still remember that day. I had just come out of the shower and was getting ready to go to a friend’s place. She borrowed my cell phone to message a friend of her’s. I was combing my hair when she said, “What is this?”
I turned around and she held out my phone. I took it from her and read a message I had sent to my secretary in which I had called her ‘sweetheart’. My secretary was a young woman, not that attractive but efficient. My wife knew that I called almost everyone a sweetheart but I expected an explosion, as that was her nature.
I fumbled a bit for words and did my explaining, bracing myself for the onslaught.
But the onslaught never came.
She said, “Oh!” Took back the phone, sent her sms and walked out of the room.
Then and there I knew something was wrong. I pestered her to tell me what was wrong but she always said that everything was fine.
But from that day she started becoming cold towards me and became irritable.
The final nail in the coffin was my stroke. We had gone out for dinner with a mutual friend of ours. She is a very close friend of my wife’s and the sister of my friend. At the table the discussion turned to having babies. This friend said that a woman needs to exercise regularly to stay fit and that my wife should also exercise (my wife is averse to exercising, yet she has a good figure). I agreed on this point and made the most humiliating comment of all. I said that if my wife does not exercise she will not have a proper delivery and we will not have a healthy child. I realised my mistake only when I looked at her face. She was looking out of the window with her face red in anger and embarrassment. If I have to ever change anything in my past, it would be to rectify this event. It does not matter how sorry I am for what I did, the fact remains that I did it and I cannot undo it.
I tried many ways to make her happy but all of them backfired. She slowly lost interest in me and began to be irritated by everything I did. I had grand plans for us but these became grand failures both due to my mistiming and due to circumstances. In the end she said that she needed space. But the space she needed could only be achieved in a new house and she left the house and filed for divorce.
I realized that I was losing her. So I begged her to stay but she could not stand me any longer. My friends and her friends told me that it was unmanly for me to beg her to come back, but she was MY wife, not theirs. I love her and could not let her go so easily. So I tried, but failed. I soon realised that she did not want me in her life in any way, so I decided to push her away. I called her up and sent her messages to irritate her and she called me names. But after everything, I succeeded in making her hate me. She said that she never loved me but I know that she did and she knows that she did.
We got divorced a few weeks back and now I am in a contemplative mood. The divorce was mutual as we both did not want a court case. The property was divided and things did not go out of hand till later. I still love my wife, still remember her smile and laugh. I remember the promise I made to her that I shall never make her cry and protect her and how miserably I have failed at that. Most people around me blame her for the fiasco but they do not know the whole story.I had become too possessive and stifled her. I was obsessed with her. I trusted a few friends and told them the story but they were too eager to fabricate it and spread it to portray her in a bad light. I have maintained my distance from them.
But I still wonder, after knowing everything, what exactly went wrong? Was I not suited for her or was she not suited for me or was the timing wrong? She once told me that I know how to love but had no clue about how to be loved. I love her, I love her madly. I really do. Thank goodness we did not have children; the separation would have been much more painful. She loves children.
Carice van Houten
Carice van Houten is a Dutch actress who is known for her acting in Black Book, Valkyrie, Repo Men and Undercover Kitty. She has won 8 awards and 7 nominations.
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