Chapter 4

You start hating Sundays when it turns from the one when you can do all the fun stuff to the one when you should do all the chores you were putting off all week. Over years I have developed a love-hate relationship with this day.

Omkara usually gets excited about this day. I have no idea why, though. He anyways stays home all the time. He says, 'It's all four of us together. That's something to celebrate.' I give a smile and before he can detect the deception in it I cover it with a quick peck on the lips. This, as well, is a trick I learned over years.

Today, first Sunday that I have for myself, I spend lying on the bed scrolling through my abandoned Instagram account discovering how everyone I know is having 'Gala time' while I haven't still peed even after clock has stuck 12 noon.

I am not a social media person. That is why I had to click forget password before logging into my account. I find it nosy and stalker-ish. That exactly has made me scroll through posts today.

I know my sister, Preeti lives another life in social media. When my husband hasn't returned a call since our abrupt one last time, I had to resort to some other means to know what they three are up to. So far Preeti has posted ten pictures
(in four days). There were two selfies, three with some special food my mom has prepared for her grandkids, two with my daughters, one with her bookshelf and the last with Omkara and the girls.

The last one was posted 20 hours ago. The girls loved the rose garden behind my parents' and I know Omkara was taking them there. Nidhi has even packed her favourite ball and toy truck to take to the garden. The picture looked shaky in the edges as if it was clicked in a hurry. Omkara was holding Nidhi in his arms while Preeti was hugging Misha in one hand and probably holding phone with the other, clicking the photo. They were all smiles. In one single frame, they looked like overdose of sugar syrup.

Misha's eyes were closed more in mischief than accident. She liked making goofy faces in photos. Omkara and Nidhi had identical grins. People said Nidhi looked like me, but at least her smile has taken after Omkara. On the other hand, Misha looked like a replica of Omkara's mother. A fact that he couldn't stop cherishing, as he thinks his mother has come back to live with him after she died when he was mere boy of 10.

Omkara grew up with his father, step mother and step siblings. He always identifies himself as loner saying that he never felt he 'belonged' with his family, which I think is over romanticizing his situation, because his family is fine. Omkara had this thing where he liked to believe that he has been cheated by the universe. When his father died three years ago, he said 'Thank God for you guys, else I would have been a lonely orphan.' Probably, this notion that he grew up believing now makes him crave and obsess over his family more than necessary.

If not having a proper family growing up is reason enough to fixate over it when you have a solid one. Then, having a proper family growing up and an easy childhood is reason enough to not fixate over it, right? I mean, been there, done that.

I have had enough Sundays spent on family bonding, board games, and silly movie marathons when I was living with my parents. Now, that I am an adult, can I just not have a single day for myself without making it a 'family time'? Don't I deserve it after long exhausting week?

Going back to the picture Preeti has posted, I read her caption. 'Family' she has written followed by emoticons (I have no clue what they mean). Deciding that reading comments is taking to too far, I began observing the picture pixel by pixel. Omkara's grin.

I quickly switched apps, opened my gallery and fetched an old picture. It was a selfie that we clicked in Shimla where we were on a mini honeymoon before Misha was conceived. Amidst the huge mountains and white spread of snow, what I could only concentrate was...Omkara's grin.

He has changed so much and yet he hasn't.

"You look very cute when you grin like that." It was probably the only compliment I gave him.

"Yeah!" he grinned back wider at me. "Thanks for bringing out this side of me."

In Omkara's lonely life, I was the lamp of hope or so he told while proposing me. He was corny to the point of making me squirm when he gets in the mood and dons a romance hat. I was not a romantic at heart, but I loved it. How can I not?

After twelve years now, everything about us began to either change or fade. The transformation from lovers to husband and wife to parents has hit us very brutally.

I am miles away from him yet I see him grin in a way that I thought only I could bring out in him.

Has Omkara learned to grin even when I am not with him or is he grinning only because I am not with him?

I was hit by the familiar wave of yearning that I have been feeling ever since Omkara and the girls left for vacation. Time now was forty five past noon. It is Sunday, meaning the day my dad makes a show of cooking lunch for everyone. I am sure he would have tagged Omkara along. Omkara has to be at home, where he will have his phone, when he will have no excuse to not talk to me.

When his phone was picked in two rings, I was waiting for him to say something.

"Di?"

"Preeti? Where is Omkara?"

"He is with Dad in the kitchen. They are making Biriyani."

Of course.

"Put him on the phone." I say.

"Ermmm..." Preeti hums. "He is busy, di."

"Yeah! A minute on call is going to spoil your lunch, yeah right." I said sarcastically. "Tell Omkara that I want to talk to him."

"Will tell him to call you after he is free."

I was long past the time when I stopped myself from swearing in front of my little sister, so now I did it freely.

"My husband can't be too busy for me. Get him on phone. Where are the girls? I want to talk to them NOW!"

"Aren't you already spoiling their vacation by not being here? Now, do you want to spoil our Sunday by being... you?"

I swore again, gave Preeti a good piece of my mind, but I don't think she would have heard it for I had already threw my phone against the wall in anger.

***

Nothing less than hot Pizza delivered at my doorstep could have stopped me from going around the house cursing everything for my sister's audacity and husband's nonchalance. After five medium slice pizza and two glasses of wine, I was ready to leave the house.

I hated the small garden park inside my gated community for the sole reason that it had people who had no problem staring at me while gossiping no matter how hard I stared back. So, I walked small distance to nearby vacant area with bushes where young boys sometimes played cricket.

I saw two women approaching me. One with a plastic water bottle and another pushing a pram.

"Nidhi's mother, right?" the one with pram asked.

I am Gauri. I usually say in reply to anything like that, but today I felt more generous. So, I just nodded.

When other women enquire about your husband, the most natural reaction is jealously. However, for me, my natural reaction is irritation.

"Oh you bought the kids to park! Where is Omkara?"

I clearly heard it as, "Are you sure you can take care of them without Omkara?"

I have this translator in my mind that helps me hear what people mean and not what they say. I am not naive enough to think that when this woman (I think I have met before but don't remember clearly) ask me how kids are enjoying their stay at their grandparents', she actually is trying to taunt that they are/can/will enjoy without me. Who is she kidding? I know what women think when they see my family, my husband and girls, that I don't deserve them. If they had what I have they will be grateful every waking minute, but I am only taking it for granted. Every time someone falls in love with my family, I see myself falling little out of love with them. How twisted that is?

What was supposed to be exercise for my mind and body became such a stress after mere five minutes conversation with those women who asked nothing but how the kids are doing. Every frustration I held inside me broke down as a drop of tear and I only too happy to unlock the door and sit huddled on the couch.

I hate everyone. Why can't they just let me live in peace? All I wanted is .... Well, f** it, I don't know what I want. But, who can tell me what I should want? No one.

Yes, my husband and kids are miles away from me enjoying a vacation with my parents.

Yes, I am heading a project that is sexist and fat shamming.

Yes, I chose to stay here.

Yes, I miss my family.

Yes, I don't care I miss them.

Yes, I hate myself

Yes, I am going to blame everyone around me for the same

Yes, I am crying

I cannot do anything about any of that now, can I?

I hear whistle tone that I didn't realize was notification tone of my ipad until I saw the blinking caught my attention. Omkara's name flashed with a mail notification.

Tried calling you. Switched off.

No reply to messages.

Tomorrow Nidhi's birthday. Call her.

How bloo*y insolent ! Of course, I remember my daughter's birthday.

Well, I didn't remember now. I hadn't bought a gift or anything, but I would have remembered tomorrow. What's the big deal! It is just a birthday, of my youngest daughter, who told me what gift she wants, but I don't remember now, just like how I forgot her birthday and other things about them and ... me. Google calendar would have reminded me anyway. I could have got her the newest and best toy. So what if it wasn't what she wanted. As far as I give her something, I am doing my duty perfectly, ain't I?

SCREW IT!!! I am such a loser!

***

Do you think translator in Gauri's mind is doing a good job or it is only being a slave to her insecurity? 

Guess who is going to make an appearance in next chapter ?????