she sat hunched in the couch, wishing she was anywhere else but here. the smell of alcohol hung in the air, evidenced by the half-empty vodka, whisky and gin bottles on the dining table. her potato cutlets had been a success – someone had commented on how well they complemented the drinks, to which she had responded with a tight smile. all around her, she could hear snatches of laughter and conversation:
“no, i haven’t seen delhi belly – but then again, i haven’t seen anything in a while!”
“yep, single and ready to mingle – that’s me!”
“so, you’re in events – we should catch up over coffee sometime…our company has some important dates coming up, and we sure could use some help!”
after the customary polite conversation, she retreated to a corner. once again, the thought floated in to her mind – what am i doing here? she was not one of them. she idly fiddled with the pallu of her saree as she gazed around the room at the rest of them. their smiles were wide and happy, their eyes slightly glazed. everyone in the room – except her – nursed a drink in hand. their host (call him N) was very generous and insisted on everyone having shots or cocktails. after passing on a bloody mary to her husband, N’s wife had turned to her with a big smile and asked, “what about you?”
as she choked out a “just coke, nothing else”, her husband had added, “she doesn’t drink – very strict!” he added the last phrase with a tinge of pride.
her cheeks burned for some odd reason, even as a couple of others around them ‘wowed’ over her principled lifestyle, and N’s wife added her own little anecdotes about how she couldn’t keep off alcohol since the day she had her first drink – “ha ha, i could drink you men under the table!” – as she passed her a glass of coke with a slice of lemon thrown in.
she wondered why her husband had made that comment, feeling something of a sting even after half-an-hour had passed. and why was she upset by it? wasn’t he proud of her traditional upbringing and continued compliance towards age-old orthodoxies? isn’t that why he had married her?
his profile in the matrimonial site mentioned “non drinker” and non smoker”. she had asked him about it over their first dinner alone during their honeymoon, when he had ordered a whiskey along with the appetisers. “so?” he had replied, smirking, “you believe everything you read?” she had kept quiet. he had added that he had only wanted a girl who was ‘clean’ and ‘pure’, as he put it. why, she had asked, why not someone like him? he had brushed aside her question, thinking that she was fishing for a compliment.
as she watched him moving from group to group, easily chatting and laughing, she felt a wave of anger wash over her. she had once asked him what it felt like after a drink or two. he had stared at her as if unsure of whether he should be angry or not, and then bluntly said it was just normal. after a few minutes had passed, he had asked her why she had such doubts. she had remained quiet.
she sighed, twisting her ring around her finger over and over. it would be at least an hour more before they would be ready to go home. she had already helped herself to dinner, while the rest ambled around, content to nibble on the snacks for a while longer.
as she looked across the room again, she wondered why she was so different from the rest of them. why couldn’t she down a glass of wine or whiskey with as much finesse or ease? it was a silly question; she knew why – a lifetime of strict value systems and seeing others being judged as ‘right’ and ‘wrong’ made her so conscious that she couldn’t even sneak a peek at the bottles her husband kept at home. the ghost of her family’s judgemental comments would hover over her, making her feel like she was doing something criminal.
but sometimes, the desire arose unbidden to try it…to explore that which was forbidden…
she suddenly realised that she had walked out to the balcony. a gentle breeze blew over her, making her saree hug the curves of her body. as she stared into the darkness, a soft voice behind her said, “you’re R’s wife right? i saw you sitting on the couch, but didn’t get a chance to talk to you…” as she turned around, she found herself looking at a woman of about late 20s, dressed in an elegant salwar kameez, with wavy hair falling to just below her shoulders. the newcomer held out her hand, saying, “i am S – R’s colleague. i was away in the US for training; just came back. that’s why you haven’t met me before.” she smiled at the girl, feeling surprisingly at ease. S lit up a cigarette and blew the smoke to the other side, before saying, “you don’t seem to have a drink – what can i get you?” she became conscious at the question, and answered, “just coke, or orange juice, or something…”
S stopped and regarded her with a half-smile. “yeah…R told me you were a TT….strict family huh?” the question threw her off-balance for a second – no one had ever asked her about her family before. she looked stricken, like a deer caught in the headlights. S’s smile widened, and she said, “i know what it’s like – my family was super orthodox on these things. my dad threw a fit and nearly slapped me when he saw a cigarette in my bag.”
she found herself gasping, her eyes growing bigger, her expression clearly one of interest. S continued, “we had a big row over it, and i moved out. we got over it after a long time, but he still cannot stand it that i ‘strayed’. i say – we live once; live it without regrets!”
she looked up, paused, and said, “you know, i once read a story about a girl who was kept prisoner inside a house with a white gate, and told never to go beyond the gate. then came a day when her goaler died, and she was free to go anywhere she pleased. but even though she came to the edge of the gate several times, she could not bring herself to open it and walk out.”
S smiled in response, and added, “and there came a day when she was told: you will die tomorrow. then she realised that whether she walked out or not, it was for her to decide. she walked past the gate into the street, explored it, and then came back to the house – content at last.”
she just smiled, and shook her head, to which S raised her glass and walked away. a girl had to live up to higher moral standards than a man, she had been told. especially a wife. and she knew R would never brook any notions that bordered on her straying away from the set code of values…
as she turned to go back to the room, she saw S coming back to the balcony – an extra drink in hand. S set it down on the garden table, and said, “if you are feeling rebellious, go ahead! and no one will know – promise from one woman to another!” and then sashayed away into the room.
as she regarded the dark brown liquid before her, a tumult of questions raged within her. shooting a furtive look at the room, and after seeing that R was absorbed in a conversation, she reached out for the glass, and raised it to her lips.
the world in my eyes 