It’s wedding season here in Cal and that means every now and then I come across newly married couples off to work together in the Metro. It’s cute. You can make them out. The girl’s clothes tend to be new, so new they have never been washed. Her mehendi’s fast fading but the loha (iron bangle bound in gold) glitters brightly. Her clothes are coordinated and she mostly wears her shankha pola (bangles of conchshell and coral, respectively). The husband tries to find standing room near her and when they talk, she looks up at his face and he bends down. They find themselves touching all the time.
The couple I had in front of me this morning, they made me laugh. They had to be older than me but me, I’ll have been married four years come January. The days of taking the bus down Dhakuria bridge and having Vicky pay for my ticket seem like a long time ago. Now he drops me off at the Metro on odd mornings, if I ask nicely and leave at a convenient time. Some days he even offers off his own bat. He doesn’t bend down to hear what I say but I daresay my voice is no longer quiet and unsure. I look up into his face when he talks but as likely as not, he’s frowning at the clock or thinking of something else and looking at the Mac.
Some days I question myself, what I bring to him. Most days, if you were to ask, I’d say I bring the laughter. I bring the unexpected outings, the bizarre situations, the spur of the moment decisions. I bring the madness, good and bad.
What does he bring me? Go on, you tell me.