I could hear him in the garden, watering the plants. Its his morning ritual now— tending to the hundred or so flower pots in our garden. Ever since Anu started living in the U.S, he has taken it upon himself to keep her garden going. Watering, weeding, pruning, he has become a complete gardener is what I often feel. Every time that Anu calls, both of them have only time to talk about the plants. How the orchids have bloomed or how the jasmines haven’t been doing well…it amuses me to hear them talk. I still remember when Anu was in school and she suddenly took it into her head to start a garden. The times she had her father rush home from the hospital to go around the town getting new plants and the times she barged into his consulting room crying about some plant or the other which had wilted…
I’ve never been an outdoor person and except for helping anu with getting the pots decorated I’ vent done anything much. It has been father-daughter all the way. And now its just him. He says he is doing it so that he gets some exercise in the morning, but I know better. He misses Anu, and this is his way of staying close to her.
The tea’s growing cold. He’s taking a bit longer than usual. I keep my coffee mug and his teacup together. I should remember to get biscuits when we go for our evening walk. And yes dog food too. Hagrid, Our 5 yr old Labrador will go hungry if not.
“You done yet”? I shout out
“Almost”
5 minutes later, he comes in dragging all the dirt into our tiny living room. Now, I’ve never been much of a house keeper and I hate all the cleaning-washing routines. I open my mouth to ask him what exactly he is doing but before I can get a word in, he walks right past me, gets the broom from the kitchen and with a sly glance at me starts sweeping the floor. I close my mouth and stare at him, hands on hips.
He religiously sweeps the whole place, keeps the broom in its place, and sits down at the table with the tea and waits for me. I keep standing there looking at him. And then we both laugh-together. I cant help it. Nor can he. I sit down next to him and keep laughing and in my laughter fit, I knock down his tea right onto his lap. He jumps. I stop laughing and look at him, scared I’ve hurt him. And he still laughs, and I join in. I put my hands around his neck and continue laughing…
The laughter slowly dies out and we cuddle into each other more. He takes my hand and gently kisses it, and places it over his chest. I take the coffee mug and offer it to him. He takes a sip and then presses it to my lips. We finish the coffee together. Still in the half hug…
We have grown up and grown old together. We’ve seen good times and the bad. Tough moments and lighter ones…we’ve lived together for 28 years now…and it all seems like yesterday that he walked into into my life—a stranger. And now—I know how exactly he likes his tea, I know which side of the bed he usually likes, I know the way he hugs me at night, the way he drinks his coffee, the way he runs his hand through his hair, the way he looks, after he’s just woken up, the way he reads the newspaper…I’ve grown to love everything about him—the way he slurps juices, his funny little moustache, his way of forgetting to shut the main door every time he goes out, the way his t-shirts always have mud splotches on them, the way he smiles in that bemused way of his when I tend to scold him—everything…
Nothing matters to us than each other—I don’t care that we’ve grown old, and that the skin on my hands have lost their smoothness-I still feel the same way when he takes my hand in his. I don’t care that both of us need glasses now—we still see each other with ever growing affection. I don’t care that I’ve put on weight, all in the wrong areas, he still hugs me the same way he did when we were young…I don’t care a bit- I don’t need to…
I realize that he has been calling my name—his name for me…and I smile at the circumstances that had led him to call me that. I lift my head from his shoulders and I look up at him…he smiles that dimpled smile of his and gently tucks back a loose strand of hair from my face…
'I love you' says he…and I remember the night that he told me the words for the first time…it seems centuries ago…but I still feel that I am the 19yr old who cried with pure happiness, listening to him…
