Prelude _ The Stillness

Tuesday, 6.18 pm.

A message text alert sounded. Mummy yelled the usual 'your tea is getting cold' and continued to sweep the visitor's room clean before lighting the twilight lamp. She reminded me the train arrival time as I needed to dodge the traffic to reach my wife. I would snap a joke in between the stillness of her prayers most days to tease her but Tuesday was unlike normal. As everything else became obscure, i opened the message.

It read: Hi, I guess you called me. I need to make use of the 8 hours duty time at the office productively. And after that when i reach back home i am busy with my household stuffs. Don't get me wrong. I won't be online like before but I would be in touch once in a while. so you take care and stay blessed.

Yeah, I had called Caryn, around her lunch time. Richard Marx customarily screamed out the 'Right here waiting' song as her dialler tone. He stopped, she didn't answer the call. I contemplated a 'dead to the world' afternoon after the hindrance of not getting connected to the other end of the world. Sleep too isolated me as i kept thinking how eternally I cherished listening to the 'loyal, cheerful, light-hearted soul'. I wanted to remind her about lunch which is routinely taken up by a glass of fruit juice, a tiny grab from McDonald's or a chocolate bar.

I struggled to finish the hot tea as mummy rumbled in the background saying 'finish it and go'. I walked out in to the car and turned up the FM station. The sugary RJ girl sounded a lot annoying on the higher octave, understandably so. But I let her screech as the traffic became more sluggish. My heart fought to pound but why did she send me a note like that? I thought. My wife would have remarked, 'don't you have any other topic to think in life, dear?' Her disdain observation and an extra bizarre facial expression would shatter me, but that remark was about fifteen minutes away. My wife is my heart picket; she fights my skirmishes and turns them in to a headache which in turn is fought by tylenol. I might lose my kidneys one day to the 200 mg soldier.

It started to drizzle. The railway gate had closed, the message was still disconcerting and the car wasn't moving. Last week, she deactivated her Fb account and told me 'I am getting away from the maddening world'. I didn't care about the sense of that line then. At 10.15 pm same day, she called me as usual; I asked her 'why'. She was quiet. I suggested 'you shouldn't have, 300 plus pals and it was great to be in touch'. She was more hushed than usual, she always paid attention to my arguments about her choices in life but she still had her own way of doing things. 10.25 am next day, she logged in to messenger and said 'Hi'. I asked 'what's new?' She was distressed; her friends had called up and questioned about the Fb blitz. I said 'Hey be happy and get back to work'. 3.30 pm, same day, she logged in again and said 'I had quite a lot of friends in life, now it's down to just two'. One of the two was me.

I was getting cluttered, why did she send me a text like that if that is the case? I asked myself again. I thought of a reply mail by the time I reached the railway station. My wife walked in and closed the door and mumbled the usual 'Can we drop in at my parent's place for 10 minutes, beloved devil?' I looked at her, eyebrow raised as usual, paused for a minute, then showed Caryn's text and quite dissimilar to my earlier projected remark she whispered 'Oh finished!' in a funny tone. I giggled for a second. Finding fun in distress is a skill I need to mug up from my queen as the twinge wasn't too agonizing for her anyway. She hardly has any force left most days after the tedious journey; but I could feel her brain ticking on this subject though as the FM RJ back drop still screamed. She turned down the volume on the radio and asked 'Shall I call her?' In half a second I said 'Later' as the car began to move. I strolled again in to my thoughts to find the meaning of her text. 'Why should she detach me from her life?'

Wednesday, 10.25 am.

She logged in; I didn't move the keys for a change. She logged out without saying 'Hi'. Around 3.30 pm I called her, Richard Marx wasn't singing, and the phone hit a dead end again. My heartbeat dropped. 30 minutes later she logged in and said 'Hi', I searched 'why the makeover?' She replied 'I am busy' and gestured a customary 'bye'.

That's her, her heart is the chauffeur, and she lets it run her life.