Abhi closed the front door firmly, but quietly, in order not to wake the still sleeping Srijo. He always left promptly at 7.30 in the mornings and Srijo usually slept until about 8 o'clock. He had never been a breakfast person and preferred his solitude in the early morning, drinking cup after cup of tea in peace and quiet, although he would sometimes have the radio on quietly.
Abhiroop Brahma hated his wife. This was a fact that he had come to terms with for some years now. Of course he never admitted as much to any other living person, certainly not Srijo herself. If she had any wits she would know and do the decent thing and leave me, he thought, but he knew that Srijo had little or no wits and leaving him was the last thing in her mind.
When they were young and in love, or so they supposed themselves at the time, things seemed different. Srijo was a jolly, friendly girl and not bad looking and they were content to drift along, getting engaged as a matter of course, and settling down into the routine which became their lives for twenty-seven years. They had two children, a boy and a girl, both somewhat brighter than their parents, who were now attending university and making their own lives.
For some time now, Abhi had nurtured a dream. It had started as a vague indefinable longing and gradually turned into an all-consuming passion. He wanted to sail away in a boat, preferably before he was fifty-five, and capture some of that youthful feeling of adventure before it was too late. Who knows, if he hadn't met and married Srijo, he might have had the adventures he was now seeking. To prove he meant business, he attended navigation classes at the local Adult Education Centre and would talk knowledgeably of infrastructure and suchlike, to anyone kind enough to listen.
It wasn't so bad while the children were younger, but now they had fled the nest and he was left with the prospect of growing old with Srijo. The children had given them a common interest while they were at home, but their departure highlighted the yawning chasm between them. They had, to be blunt, nothing in common. No shared interest. Srijo thought his dream of sailing away was laughable and called him a dreamer - a latter day Walter Mitty. She certainly didn't take the matter seriously. To be fair to her, she did buy Abhi a model boat, quite an expensive one too, so he could practise sailing on the village pond. Far from satisfying his longing for all things nautical, this simply fired his enthusiasm. He was even more determined to one day have a "real" boat.
Srijo, on the other hand, was content with her life and always had been. She enjoyed bringing up the children and housekeeping - and now she valued her part-time job. Her only objective, if you could call it such, was security in Abhi's and her old age. Adventure was not on the agenda. She did not dream or aspire; she took as a matter of course what life had handed to her; she slept soundly every night and, if she dreamed at all, it was about the new kitchen she planned or which bulbs to plant for next spring. Everything was fine as it was. Poor old Abhi would soon forget these silly notions of sailing away in some little boat. At any rate, this was Abhi's reading of the situation.
Abhi's job as a supervisor at G.DMashi. Supermarket, a position he had held for some years, could not be described as fulfilling - but it paid well and, with no qualifications to speak of, he considered himself lucky to have a reasonably well paid and secure job. Despite that, he craved for something more.
The more staid and comfortable and middle-aged Srijo became, the more Abhi's imagination was fired by the thought of doing something exciting before he was too old. He liked what he saw in the mirror; he had kept his hair and his teeth; and he was quite slim. He also kept himself fit. He jogged on a regular basis and prided himself on his firm abdomen and muscular physique.Abhi knew divorce would be out of the question. Srijo had strong views about the sanctity of marriage and besides, to be fair to Abhi, he had never really been interested in other women. (Few of them liked sailing, from what he had gathered; sailing away in a boat was not something that seemed to appeal to most women). He would be hard put to it to make a case for divorce on any other grounds. Anyway, he and Srijo had each taken out sizeable life insurance policies in the early years of their marriage, so the solution was clear… Srijo must depart this life, and not before too long if he had anything to do with it.
Bloodthirsty he was not, and she was the mother of his children, so whatever Abhi devised must not be too painful, and must either be an unfortunate accident or death by natural causes. It was not going to be easy. There would be a great deal of thinking to do. One thing he was sure of. There was going to be no third party involved. You couldn't trust anyone. They could blackmail you in the future. Make a botch of it. Anything. No, he must do it himself, unaided.
Srijo had always kept fairly healthy, despite her fondness for cream cakes and her smoking habit; another black mark against her in Abhi's book. For the life of him he couldn't see how there could be a sudden deterioration in her health. Not one that wouldn't arouse suspicion. And then the idea came to him.
Recently, in his spare moments at lunchtime, Abhi had been visiting the surrounding boatyards. They lived close to the river Gangeshwar so there were plenty to choose from. On one of these jaunts he had come across a new venture called "The Kalighat Inn" - a restaurant cum boathouse with a small artificial lake on which less ambitious sailors could have a go, with little or no risk.
They had an anniversary coming up and they always reckoned to celebrate with a little outing to a restaurant. This had become a ritual as far as Srijo was concerned. Why not take her somewhere different this year, to the new "Kalighat Inn". He had dropped by one evening on the way home from GDM'z and noticed little coloured lights strung in the trees surrounding the lake. One or two couples had small boats out, in the dark, and that's when the idea hit him.
Srijo seemed surprised and pleased with his suggestion of somewhere different on their anniversary this year and promptly made an appointment with the hairdresser for that same afternoon. Besides, she was relieved, if for no other reason, than that she wouldn't have to bother to cook that evening; one of the reasons she kept up the annual ritual of a meal out. She prayed for fine weather; so often when she had her hair done the heavens would open and a wind would spring up, driving rain beneath her umbrella.
Abhi arrived home punctually from GDM'z that evening. He was hoping the good weather would last so he could put his plans into operation. Srijo was busy getting ready, having a bath and trying not to get her crisp new hairdo wet. She worked during the morning in a nearby garage and so had been free to go to the hairdressers in the afternoon.
Unusually for him, Abhi turned up this evening with a bottle of gin and some tonic. Not difficult when you worked in a supermarket but not something he had ever done before. He explained to Srijo that he felt in a celebratory mood and that it wasn't every day you'd been married for twenty-seven years. She was quite overcome by this show of what she thought was sentimentality and agreed to have a drink before they set off. He hummed to himself in the kitchen as he sliced up a lemon and took ice from the refrigerator.
Just a trifle tiddly, but no more, they got into their shiny new little Nissan Sunny and drove off in a happy frame of mind to their rendezvous at "The Kalighat Inn". They were shown to their table overlooking the lake and pretty soon, after another gin and tonic each, were tucking in: Abhi into rump steak and chips and Srijol into fried scampi and chips, washed down with their favourite sweet white wine. Abhi persuaded his wife to indulge in a sickly dessert. After coffee, without consulting Srijo, he ordered two cognacs and, after those gins and tonic and wine, she lost all resolution and, with a giggle, sipped her brandy. .When he settled the bill, Abhi announced that the evening wasn't over yet - he had another little treat in store. Helping her on with her jacket, he took her outside the Inn and led her towards the boatyard. His plan was to take her on a little moonlit sail to round off their anniversary dinner.
When he had rowed them some way across the lake, round to the other side of a little island, covered in weeping willows, he pushed her in. With any luck, after the heavy meal and the fact that she was slightly drunk, and certainly overweight, she would drown quickly and he could start life anew on his chosen path.
Srijo floundered and gasped and splashed, beating the water with her arms. Without clothes Srijo, like many plump people, was a strong swimmer, but tonight the odds were against her. Doped with alcohol, a heavy meal, and fairly substantial outdoor clothing, she felt herself beginning to succumb. However, her survival instinct was a powerful one and she managed to grab the side of the boat, before Abhi could manoeuvre it away from her. Because she was wet and therefore so weighty, as she grasped the side of the boat, it keeled over - and into the water went Abhi.
Meantime, Srijo recovered from her ordeal. She managed to get herself to the small island, clinging on to some long grass overhanging the bank, and she screamed for help. She didn't yet know what had happened to Abhi.
Whether it was the shock of the cold water, or whether Abhi had always had an undiscovered heart defect, the coroner couldn't say; he might have had a heart attack at some stage, anyhow. Personally he thought these middle aged joggers asked for all they got. But he conducted the proceedings with decorum and sympathy, respecting the grieving widow and her terrible shock.
Srijo knew she had been pushed in - but for the sake of her children, the neighbours and all (not to mention the insurance money) she decided to say nothing. But her grief for Abhi was considerably diminished by this knowledge.
Srijo stood on the quayside gazing at the huge liner; little coloured flags waved in the breeze against an azure sky. Today, she would realise a dream she had fostered in secret for years... She would embark on an adventure that previously seemed like a pipe dream. Thanks to the insurance money, she was going on a world cruise. A luxury world cruise. None of your silly little boats.
Abhiroop Brahma hated his wife. This was a fact that he had come to terms with for some years now. Of course he never admitted as much to any other living person, certainly not Srijo herself. If she had any wits she would know and do the decent thing and leave me, he thought, but he knew that Srijo had little or no wits and leaving him was the last thing in her mind.
When they were young and in love, or so they supposed themselves at the time, things seemed different. Srijo was a jolly, friendly girl and not bad looking and they were content to drift along, getting engaged as a matter of course, and settling down into the routine which became their lives for twenty-seven years. They had two children, a boy and a girl, both somewhat brighter than their parents, who were now attending university and making their own lives.
For some time now, Abhi had nurtured a dream. It had started as a vague indefinable longing and gradually turned into an all-consuming passion. He wanted to sail away in a boat, preferably before he was fifty-five, and capture some of that youthful feeling of adventure before it was too late. Who knows, if he hadn't met and married Srijo, he might have had the adventures he was now seeking. To prove he meant business, he attended navigation classes at the local Adult Education Centre and would talk knowledgeably of infrastructure and suchlike, to anyone kind enough to listen.
It wasn't so bad while the children were younger, but now they had fled the nest and he was left with the prospect of growing old with Srijo. The children had given them a common interest while they were at home, but their departure highlighted the yawning chasm between them. They had, to be blunt, nothing in common. No shared interest. Srijo thought his dream of sailing away was laughable and called him a dreamer - a latter day Walter Mitty. She certainly didn't take the matter seriously. To be fair to her, she did buy Abhi a model boat, quite an expensive one too, so he could practise sailing on the village pond. Far from satisfying his longing for all things nautical, this simply fired his enthusiasm. He was even more determined to one day have a "real" boat.
Srijo, on the other hand, was content with her life and always had been. She enjoyed bringing up the children and housekeeping - and now she valued her part-time job. Her only objective, if you could call it such, was security in Abhi's and her old age. Adventure was not on the agenda. She did not dream or aspire; she took as a matter of course what life had handed to her; she slept soundly every night and, if she dreamed at all, it was about the new kitchen she planned or which bulbs to plant for next spring. Everything was fine as it was. Poor old Abhi would soon forget these silly notions of sailing away in some little boat. At any rate, this was Abhi's reading of the situation.
Abhi's job as a supervisor at G.DMashi. Supermarket, a position he had held for some years, could not be described as fulfilling - but it paid well and, with no qualifications to speak of, he considered himself lucky to have a reasonably well paid and secure job. Despite that, he craved for something more.
The more staid and comfortable and middle-aged Srijo became, the more Abhi's imagination was fired by the thought of doing something exciting before he was too old. He liked what he saw in the mirror; he had kept his hair and his teeth; and he was quite slim. He also kept himself fit. He jogged on a regular basis and prided himself on his firm abdomen and muscular physique.Abhi knew divorce would be out of the question. Srijo had strong views about the sanctity of marriage and besides, to be fair to Abhi, he had never really been interested in other women. (Few of them liked sailing, from what he had gathered; sailing away in a boat was not something that seemed to appeal to most women). He would be hard put to it to make a case for divorce on any other grounds. Anyway, he and Srijo had each taken out sizeable life insurance policies in the early years of their marriage, so the solution was clear… Srijo must depart this life, and not before too long if he had anything to do with it.
Bloodthirsty he was not, and she was the mother of his children, so whatever Abhi devised must not be too painful, and must either be an unfortunate accident or death by natural causes. It was not going to be easy. There would be a great deal of thinking to do. One thing he was sure of. There was going to be no third party involved. You couldn't trust anyone. They could blackmail you in the future. Make a botch of it. Anything. No, he must do it himself, unaided.
Srijo had always kept fairly healthy, despite her fondness for cream cakes and her smoking habit; another black mark against her in Abhi's book. For the life of him he couldn't see how there could be a sudden deterioration in her health. Not one that wouldn't arouse suspicion. And then the idea came to him.
Recently, in his spare moments at lunchtime, Abhi had been visiting the surrounding boatyards. They lived close to the river Gangeshwar so there were plenty to choose from. On one of these jaunts he had come across a new venture called "The Kalighat Inn" - a restaurant cum boathouse with a small artificial lake on which less ambitious sailors could have a go, with little or no risk.
They had an anniversary coming up and they always reckoned to celebrate with a little outing to a restaurant. This had become a ritual as far as Srijo was concerned. Why not take her somewhere different this year, to the new "Kalighat Inn". He had dropped by one evening on the way home from GDM'z and noticed little coloured lights strung in the trees surrounding the lake. One or two couples had small boats out, in the dark, and that's when the idea hit him.
Srijo seemed surprised and pleased with his suggestion of somewhere different on their anniversary this year and promptly made an appointment with the hairdresser for that same afternoon. Besides, she was relieved, if for no other reason, than that she wouldn't have to bother to cook that evening; one of the reasons she kept up the annual ritual of a meal out. She prayed for fine weather; so often when she had her hair done the heavens would open and a wind would spring up, driving rain beneath her umbrella.
Abhi arrived home punctually from GDM'z that evening. He was hoping the good weather would last so he could put his plans into operation. Srijo was busy getting ready, having a bath and trying not to get her crisp new hairdo wet. She worked during the morning in a nearby garage and so had been free to go to the hairdressers in the afternoon.
Unusually for him, Abhi turned up this evening with a bottle of gin and some tonic. Not difficult when you worked in a supermarket but not something he had ever done before. He explained to Srijo that he felt in a celebratory mood and that it wasn't every day you'd been married for twenty-seven years. She was quite overcome by this show of what she thought was sentimentality and agreed to have a drink before they set off. He hummed to himself in the kitchen as he sliced up a lemon and took ice from the refrigerator.
Just a trifle tiddly, but no more, they got into their shiny new little Nissan Sunny and drove off in a happy frame of mind to their rendezvous at "The Kalighat Inn". They were shown to their table overlooking the lake and pretty soon, after another gin and tonic each, were tucking in: Abhi into rump steak and chips and Srijol into fried scampi and chips, washed down with their favourite sweet white wine. Abhi persuaded his wife to indulge in a sickly dessert. After coffee, without consulting Srijo, he ordered two cognacs and, after those gins and tonic and wine, she lost all resolution and, with a giggle, sipped her brandy. .When he settled the bill, Abhi announced that the evening wasn't over yet - he had another little treat in store. Helping her on with her jacket, he took her outside the Inn and led her towards the boatyard. His plan was to take her on a little moonlit sail to round off their anniversary dinner.
When he had rowed them some way across the lake, round to the other side of a little island, covered in weeping willows, he pushed her in. With any luck, after the heavy meal and the fact that she was slightly drunk, and certainly overweight, she would drown quickly and he could start life anew on his chosen path.
Srijo floundered and gasped and splashed, beating the water with her arms. Without clothes Srijo, like many plump people, was a strong swimmer, but tonight the odds were against her. Doped with alcohol, a heavy meal, and fairly substantial outdoor clothing, she felt herself beginning to succumb. However, her survival instinct was a powerful one and she managed to grab the side of the boat, before Abhi could manoeuvre it away from her. Because she was wet and therefore so weighty, as she grasped the side of the boat, it keeled over - and into the water went Abhi.
Meantime, Srijo recovered from her ordeal. She managed to get herself to the small island, clinging on to some long grass overhanging the bank, and she screamed for help. She didn't yet know what had happened to Abhi.
Whether it was the shock of the cold water, or whether Abhi had always had an undiscovered heart defect, the coroner couldn't say; he might have had a heart attack at some stage, anyhow. Personally he thought these middle aged joggers asked for all they got. But he conducted the proceedings with decorum and sympathy, respecting the grieving widow and her terrible shock.
Srijo knew she had been pushed in - but for the sake of her children, the neighbours and all (not to mention the insurance money) she decided to say nothing. But her grief for Abhi was considerably diminished by this knowledge.
Srijo stood on the quayside gazing at the huge liner; little coloured flags waved in the breeze against an azure sky. Today, she would realise a dream she had fostered in secret for years... She would embark on an adventure that previously seemed like a pipe dream. Thanks to the insurance money, she was going on a world cruise. A luxury world cruise. None of your silly little boats.
Rest In Peace
neo
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2 comments:
ghum pacche....ami koi???
Sheesh...excellent 'worthless reading', but ABHI AND SRIJO ARE SO GOING TO BE AFTER UR BLOOD.
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