chapter 1

You’ll be asleep, but I open my eyes and slide out of your embrace, feeling
you turn over; I kiss your forehead gently and sit up in bed. I graze my hand over your feet and touch it to my heart and head. I’ve been blessed.

I step into the bathroom and look at my reflection, maybe my skin is not as taut and there are fine lines at the edge of my eyes. Yet, my eyes capture my heart, I see you in them. I see a complexion that glows despite the early hour, I see a woman who is content. There is no beauty that can surpass that. The beauty that comes from loving you. I run my fingers through my hair and see the first white strand, I laugh to myself, thinking of the jokes you can finally make, the same ones I have been teasing you with the last 3 years.

I step under the shower and the thought that you’re in the next room infuses me with happiness. I inhale the scent of vanilla shower cream and I can imagine your fingers on me. It’s gone beyond minutes, hours, days, weeks and months. Its gone into years, and its still you, only you, always you. After years, I still think of you every moment, every beat of my heart, I dedicate to you.

I step back into the room to dress and as I pleat my sari I see you looking at me, I giggle and fling my blouse at you, “stop peeping”! You grin sleepily at me and doze off… I can’t help remembering the first time we went out with me in a sari, for a Hindi movie, of all things! As I brush my hair I can smell your cologne in the room, a fragrance I’ve always loved. I tuck the end of my sari tightly into the gathers around my hip and again, your thought pops into my mind, as I see you looking at me, in my minds’ eye. I see you admiring my waist… kissing my navel and waiting for the day when you kiss my navel and kiss two people.

I switch on dim lights and open curtains as I walk to the kitchen to prepare the prayer items. As I go around the cosy little room we designed, I recite the ‘Hanuman Chalisa’ along with prayers for your well-being. Finally, covering my head I walk into the prayer room and settle down for an hour’s peace. ‘Tis no one but you who occupies my mind and prayers. Since I got to know you I have dedicated prayers to you and for you. Getting to spend my life with you is not a prayer come true, it’s a dream so huge, that I never dared dream it!

As I hear the clock strike a quarter past 7, I wrap up my thanksgiving and raise the offerings to my head. Wandering back to my cosy peach-coloured kitchen, I put the tea to boil and wonder if you have discovered that I serve you tea not made in water but in milk. Pouring the tea into a pretty cup, I inhale the sweet scent and remind myself to brush my hair again. I place the tea next to you and gently awaken you while smoothing back my hair.

“Good morning Ji… Chai aa gaya”;

I smile as you stretch and place your head on my lap. Stroking your hair, I coax you out of bed and hug you from the back as you sip your tea. As you head to the shower, I set about laying out your (pre-ironed) clothes. Heading back to my favourite nook – the kitchen, I get your breakfast done, Indian style. Aloo parathas and chutney, with dahi if you’re in the mood, of course, your steaming hot milk is already waiting. As you come into the kitchen in search of me, I button your shirt for you and push you into the chair, popping a sweetmeat I had offered earlier in my prayers, into your mouth. Planting your milk in front of you, I ask if you’ve finished the tea. Breaking off some of the paratha, I place it in your mouth. This sweet habit was borne out of necessity, as neither of us liked you going to work with masala-scented hands or a stained shirt. Halfway through the meal you begin protesting, so resorting to old tricks, I cajole you into a mouthful for mother, father, sister, brother and finally, laughingly, for myself.

As you stand to wash up, I wait next to you with a towel in my hands. Walking with you to the door, I pick up my prayer tray and place a vermilion spot on your forehead, I wait as you fill the parting of my hair with the fragrant vermilion and kiss my cheek as you leave for the day.

I bend to touch your feet once more and knot your laces. I wave at your departing back once more, then, smiling to myself, I close the door and lean back against it, just thinking of you and still feeling your presence in the little house. Shaking my head, I begin to clear up in the kitchen and place the dry dishes back in the cupboards. Hearing my laptop beep, I head to my study, fully prepared to battle with my editor. God bless you for sending my work to a publisher! Although every cut my editor makes hurts me, I’m so grateful that I can work from home and be around for you all day.