A Second Chance

Alka was making dough twisting and turning her fingers in several different ways. Her maid servant was absent today, and due to Ramdan most eateries were closed. Her husband was scanning through the daily newspaper, and watching the television. As cigarette dangled from his lips he could not resist teasing his wife, “ We will eat a full meal today, Darling I hope”.

His wife smiled she turned a cook at odd hours of the month. Alka was not really used to cooking. Sometimes she heaved a sigh of relief that her thirteen year-old son was not staying with her. He was staying in a hostel in Darjeeling where he was learning excellent English and little Maths.

Not that she had not learnt anything from her second husband. She was a Bengali Brahmin and her first marriage was not something she had actually chosen for herself. Ashis was fair and well-built man.

He used to be an excellent worker. Whenever the cook was absent, he used to cook meals. He used to make it clear it was not a labour of love. Alka was horrible at cooking during her youthful days. She was pretty in a decent way and was not really the woman who fitted into the Professor’s imagination.

Ashis’s Boss liked her and as it was an invitation for lunch when the middle aged man was watching her a little indignantly Ashis took a vow. He would never bring his Boss home again. Ashis never took Alka to parties held in the Hyatt or ITC Sonar. He loved talking about his wife’s flaws, some said his engagement with Alka was a recipe for complete disaster.

Danish her second husband praised Alka, sometimes making things up. His wife knew how to sip Margarita, at least Ashis had taught her that much, he joked with his friends. Sometimes Alka gently reminded him, “ We used to be Brahmins not the veggie kind but people who fed on milk and meat”. Even Ashis was a practising Brahmin though he used to booze too much.

Alka’s father was a High School teacher who remained immersed in his Calculas. He never believed in God, he was a true Communist who refused to part with his Brahmanical rituals. He taught students for free, and for Alka he was her hero.

Alka secretly fantasised about a Professor during her College days. But the man was much-married with two kids and Alka had not even dared to give her fantasy any wings. During her University days, she studied History where there were only eight boys squeezing their way alongside forty two girls.

Love had never crossed her path and inspite of being pretty, she had never been swept away by anybody’s presence.

She thought Ashis measured upto her criteria of eligibility. She never objected when her marriage was fixed with Ashis, an Engineer by profession. Dhanis was her choice after Ashis’s demise.

Alka had few options, one of them was to pack her bags and travel abroad. Not exactly penniless but her marriage was on the verge of dissolution when Ashis was diagnosed with cancer.

Dhanis was a pure gentleman, he never used to smell of champagne as he entered late. They were old but there was never the desire for too much physicality, they were friends like the railway line and the highway which parallelly followed you. Dhanish had substituted Idlis for Roti- Chapatti, and even visited his ten-year old daughter twice a week.

Alka was not stupid. She understood Dhanish’s pain as his ex-wife had left him for someone else. Not like Alka who had seen Ashis suffering and crying like a child. He was all madness, like the eighteen year old boy who will tightly hold his girlfriend’s hand as the crowd from cinema halls rushed outside into the streets .

There was peace in Alka’s life but she was lonely. Dhanish gave importance to personal space. They were friends who lived quietly, each only minded their own way. Alka’s heart twitched at time, if she had only noticed the symptoms of illness in the first stage Ashis would have been alive; and together with her teenage son they would have made the perfect Bollywood movie.