Tea in the Closet and Two Little Cups - A Short Story

18 September, 2022

Image Credit: Oriento at Unsplash

I belong to myself, but you can borrow me sometimes!

“Where do you belong?” asked the nurse wearing a white coat over a traditional red attire.

“Punjab”, answered Jaansi unenthusiastically.

“Madam ji, how did you get hurt?” she inquired with a skeptical look and a forced expression that her profession demanded.

“The glass broke and a sharp piece cut through my wrist”, responded Jaansi without looking into her eyes to avoid any further confrontation.

Jaansi's husband, Siddharth, looked worried and pestered the nurse to call the doctor. Siddarth, fondly called Sid, was a tall, lean, clean-shaven, dusky boy from Tamil Nadu. The doctor arrived thirty minutes late as it was past midnight. Upon examination, she suggested visiting a plastic surgeon the next day because the wound had to be stitched. She asked the nurse to clean the wound.

While driving back home, Sid, given his usual saviour self, maintained composure while Jaansi sat numb. Amid the radio playing and the barking of the street dogs, there was an awkward silence in the car. “Of all people, how could this happen to us?” they thought in unison. Jaansi had slit her wrist with a piece of a cup that she broke earlier that night.

Jaansi, in her early 30s, was an intimidatingly beautiful woman - vibrant and kind. She inherited the glow and sharp features of her Punjabi parents with origins near Lahore, now in Pakistan. Jaansi's parents were very enterprising. They raised her to be independent, kind and righteous. They always taught her to speak the truth for it may lead to pain but helps in the long run. They were proud of Jaansi and her achievements.

As a child, Jaansi was very bright. She completed her education at the best institutions landing her dream job as an academician. She met Sid during her college. Sid was lovable, someone that most people would like instantly. He had a heart of gold and was rarely jealous. He was an extremely supportive husband and an amazing father. He balanced the impulsive and complex Jaansi with his stability. They fell in love and got married. It was a bit of a tussle for families from two different states to come together, but their love triumphed and now they were parents to a five-year-old son – Viraj who filled their lives with joy, innocence and a lot of learning.

Jaansi shifted to Delhi after marriage. She had visited the capital city many times in her childhood. The magnanimity of the city always left her in awe. The 24X7 hustle and bustle, cosmopolitan population, variety of food and bazaars, old city charm and a plethora of opportunities - it was fascinating She wanted to explore the city, on her own. But she was also conditioned to believe that big cities make you forget your roots. She grew up with mixed emotions - the desire to explore the extravagance of a big city and the conditioning to conform to the ideals of where one belongs. 

In the Delhi summer of 2015, in her workplace, she met Ahmer - an immaculately good-looking man from Jammu and Kashmir. He seemed like a character from the novels- charming, intelligent, graceful, a great conversationalist but arrogant; humility was not his virtue. He was popular among the women in office but maintained a distance from them. It seemed as if he was recovering from something - the death of a loved one or a broken relationship. His eyes reflected his coping. He seemed to be at a stage where one had not healed completely but had somehow found a way through the dilemma. As luck would have it, Jaansi and Ahmer ended up sharing the cabin in the office.  

In the mornings, Ahmer would say “aadaab” to which Jaansi would always reply with a “hi”. They would barely talk for the rest of the day. This continued for more than a year. Eventually, their conversations over tea started becoming frequent and diverse. They would talk about academics, research, institutional policies, relationships, romance, movies, music, politics, storytelling and whatnot. These conversations were Jaansi's window to a new world - where learning was growth, liberation and a lot of fun. She would ask questions probing Ahmer and would argue with him. They were competitive, not fiercely but lovingly. Each conversation would be like a theatrical act where each one would perform their best and then go back home as strangers. Beyond these conversations, Ahmer and Jaansi were not friends; only a little more than acquaintances.

One fine evening, sipping tea on the balcony of her house, she thought, “I have a life that people envy– my kind of job, husband, family, son, someone to talk to and friends. Then why do I feel hollow? I have always wanted to explore Delhi but I haven't been anywhere in the last five years. All that I continually live with is the loss of belonging because I am so far away from my hometown. I wish I could live a life like Ahmer. What if I tell Ahmer that I love talking to him? What if I have Ahmer with me?” This thought always bothered her. How could she think this way when she had the best life partner? How can she choose a wanderer like Ahmer over a grounded Sid?

“I will talk to Sid and Dad about my feelings. They will understand me. They are my best friends", she thought, expecting both of them to support her. The unconditional love she always received, the stories - real and fictional she had been close to and the ideals that she belonged to made her believe that everyone will understand what she was going through.

One day, Jaansi called up her dad and told him about Ahmer. Her dad said, “Are you crazy? How dare could you think this way? If Sid finds out, he might even kill you.” Jaansi was taken aback. “Why is my dad who talks about the love stories of Heer Ranjha and Soni Mahiwal unable to understand me?” she thought. What was wrong with liking someone out of wedlock? Krishna-Radha was everyone's favourite story in the family. She told Ahmer and Sid too. He was shattered and went away for a few days. Eventually, he came; he wanted things to work because of Viraj. Ahmer told Jaansi, “Don’t call me again. These things are very dangerous. I don’t want to be threatened by anyone for getting into this soup.”

Jaansi felt humiliated and regretful. She was angry and ashamed. She did not speak for months. She couldn't bear the loss of respect in her father's eyes and the intensity of Sid's love for her. One day, she could not stand the pain and slit her wrist with a broken cup.

Jaansi always heard and read stories about people in love. She always nurtured a desire to belong to someone- to be constantly in love. She longed for belonging – for a feeling that comforted her whenever she was in pain, dilemma and confusion. This experience changed her life forever. It was the beginning of her relationship with herself.

These days, she explores Delhi. She writes regularly. She has understood that ultimately, you belong to yourself; others can only borrow you sometimes. There is a closet in her room where she keeps her favourite tea. Very often, her dad, Sid and Viraj come for a cuppa!

This is the story of Jaansi, the tea in her closet and two little cups.