“Click” it sounded like someone had rubbed steel over an iron grate.
“Gawd!” she muttered to herself as instantaneously her little toddler started his wailing.
“Akash!, Akash..wakeup. Sumer is crying. Hold him close & rock him please while I get his milk warmed. Aakaaash”
“Whaat..? Oh ok ok” he stuttered and tried to clumsily hold the crying baby.
“For heaven sakes! Don’t switch on the light, Akash. He will lose his sleep” she fiercely whispered on her way out to the kitchen.
She heard some angry mutterings but there was no time to retort. By the time the baby was fed & put to sleep again it was close 5:00 a.m. Akash had long turned his back and his snoring was back in rhythm. Swathi yawned and looked longingly at the bed but then she knew she couldn’t afford to go back to sleep.
By 7:00 the house was sparkling clean with the vegetable curry simmering on the stove, the dough ready to be made in roti’s and the water-heater had warmed the water for Akash.
Rrriing, riing riing.
Swathi ran to the door just to see the milkman giving her his usual wide smile. “Namastey Bhabhi”
“Namaste, namastey. How many times have I told you not to ring the bell?” she repeated her daily dialogue, knowing very well that her anger was futile since he had already cycled away. Sumer had woken up and was crying out aloud to announce that he needed immediate attention. Akash was trying to hold him while he was insisting on crawling and jumping out of the four poster.
The next one hour was complete mayhem at the No. 17 household with the vegetables getting a tad burnt, while Swathi tried removing the overflowing milk from the stove and making roti’s. Out of the corner of her eye she saw that Sumer had crawled swiftly towards the open door.
“Aakaash, Aakaash…can’t you hold the baby for a minute?” screamed an exasperated Swathi lifting a visibly disappointed 10 month old who was ever fascinated with the outside world.
Something sounding indecipherable came from the bathroom. “Akaash?”
Akash popped his head out of the bathroom, “Good Lord Swathi, can’t a man have his peace even in the bathroom?”
“It’s fantastic to hear a man crib even when he gets his solid 8 hours of sleep” she responded angrily. “Am never doing enough for you” tears were stinging her eyes.
“FYI, I came from work at 11 last night. Oh! please don’t get those tears come rolling down again” he snapped.
Meanwhile his mobile rang incessantly, Sumer soiled his pants and needed a diaper change, the cablewala came with the monthly bill. Everything seemed to happen almost at the same time.
It had started out to be a bad day, almost as bad as the entire week had gone by. The initial two years of marriage had been bliss with the framed snapshots, from their several vacations as evidence, adorning their living room. The arrival of their darling son had just heightened their marital bliss but soon the responsibilities of parenthood started sinking in or rather bogging them down.
Swathi managed to put breakfast on the table and get the baby’s cereal ready too. Akash carried a struggling Sumer over to the balcony and started to show him the morning birds fly while Swathi slowly tried to put the baby cereal into his mouth. After all sorts of cajoling, cooing, sputtering & planting telltale signs of cereal all over Akash’s black shirt, Sumer finished his breakfast with a burp. Heaving a sigh of relief both of them set him down near his play things.
“Couldn’t you have put on a T-shirt while holding Sumer, Akash? Now, I got one more shirt added to the huge pile of washing to do”
“Do you need to even tell me what I got to wear and what not to?”
“Well in that case you do your own washing here on”
The air, thick with their growing animosity forced them to go different directions. Akash changed into a different shirt and started gulping down his breakfast. Swathi started sorting the whites from the pile of clothing to put them into the washing machine.
Suddenly there was a huge commotion of slogan shouting and Jai Hinds. Swathi carried little Sumer and walked upto the balcony to find what the din was all about.
The road below had disappeared in a flood of activists of some kind - angry people sporting yellow & red bandanas, shouting slogans, waving flags.
Akash walked up from behind, “They are the Sri Ram Sene or whatever. They are protesting against celebrating the Valentine’s Day.”
“Oh! hmm”
“Their warped sense of instilling culture by moral policing the youngsters, patrolling the streets to marry dating couples is outright disgusting” said Akash vehemently.
“I know, what kind of culture is this Mutalik guy talking about, when he and his goons manhandle women in pubs” added Swathi.
They watched in silence some more of the slogan shouting mob making their way into the main street. The entire neighborhood and come out to their doors & balconies.
“When is Valentines by the way?” she turned to ask Akaash
“It’s today, you dumbo” he tapped her lightly on her head. She turned to catch him grinning. Soon a smile crept into her face too.
It was one of those special moments when it suddenly dawns upon one, the existence of that unique bond that binds every couple in love. He took her free hand and gave it a warm squeeze making her cheeks go as red as the bandanna of an activist below. They turned to make their way into their apartment reminiscing past Valentine’s they had celebrated.
“So do we go out for dinner today?”
“Not if you won’t wash my black shirt!” he said teasingly, breaking into a run.
“Now, wait till me & my son pound you into a lump” she laughed running after him.
