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The Swing
by Hardeep Sabharwal (India)
Some thirty years have passed, year after year of their married life. If everything is measured in terms of success and failure, their marriage was a failure. Although they remained together there was little feeling for each other, no real attachment of the heart. They lived together because they had no other choice. Divorce was an alien word to them, a thing that happens across the seas, in countries of white people. For her, marriage is a life-long relationship; just as you can't change your father, mother or siblings, you can't change your husband. In her mind, only sluts can think that way; she could not even imagine it.
The truth of their relationship was not a well-known fact in their circles — not exactly. Everyone thought that they were the perfect couple, made for each other. Always together, they attended every function, every party, every ceremony, with their families, friends or social circle, as most happily married couples do. Not even their closest family or friends ever sensed anything unusual in their lives. Surprisingly, both of them often felt everything was fine. She thought it was his nature and he believed all other couples were like them.
When he was young, he had aspirations, goals to achieve something different in life. He wanted to work at something socially important, some meaningful career. He did not want to marry. On the day his father told him about possible brides for his marriage he told his father, "I don't want to marry."
"You don't want to marry!" he laughed, but more in shock. "Then what you do you want to do if you don’t want marriage?"
In his father's opinion, marriage was a vital necessity of life and marriage was obligatory for all.
"I want to devote my life to service,” Janardan said.
His father replied, "Marrying a girl is the biggest social service you can do, ha ha ha." His father had given his verdict.
And that was an age, especially in his circles, when children did not disobey parents, especially in such decisions. He might choose which shirt to wear, which dish to eat or which movie to see, but Janardan believed he could not determine how he would live his life.
However, he was not forced to marry Abha .After considering many alliances, his parents selected her for him and they married, with his consent. She was a beautiful girl, far more good-looking than he was. No one of his acquaintance had a wife who could compete with her beauty. Moreover, she was humble, selfless and undemanding.
Still, she behaved like an ordinary woman: interested only in housekeeping, saris and kitchen gossip. To her, television and newspapers were only for discovering new trends in fashion, or for learning Bollywood news. She seemed to have no goals beyond this. She had no interest in Stephen Hawkins’ discoveries, such as the knowledge that after millions and millions of years, the sun will die. She seemed uninterested in knowing why after so many years of Independence poverty persisted in India. He never heard her consider possible ways of educating the poor and Dalits [members of the lowest caste] of India. Such lofty issues seemed insignificant to Abha.
Janardan had come to feel his marriage was a major mistake, but he could not see how anything could be done. This made him judgmental and dissatisfied. He began niggling her about her work. At first, Abha tried to change herself and her ways. She soon realized it made no difference how he treated her. She lapsed and returned to her original ways. They never quarreled — most couples they knew quarreled.
The closest to disagreement they came might be Abha asking, "What will I cook today?"
Janardan might reply, “Whatever you like.”
Then, after a while he might ask, “What's for dinner today?”
“Brinjals [eggplant],” Abha might reply.
“Brinjals?” Janardan might complain, “Can’t you find anything else to cook?”
“Why? What's wrong with brinjals? And, I did ask you earlier what you wanted,” might be the snarkiest Abha could muster as a rejoinder.
"Hmm, OK,” Janardan might respond with dissatisfaction.
So their life together passed. Abha gave birth to two daughters. The children became a bond between them. Abha had a strong will, but never complained about anything, not even once. As we know, we become comfortable in our life styles and usually aren’t willing to change them. Being together, living their married life became their comfortable habit. Though sometimes, she felt: I am not perfect for him; he deserved someone more educated… more enlightened than me. Janardan, on the other hand, often thought she deserved a better husband and more credit for all she did.
When, suddenly Abha complained of chest pains and almost fainted, Janardan rushed her to the hospital. The doctor said she’d suffered a mild heart attack. Alisha, their elder daughter who lived in the same city, came right away to manage everything.
When, a week later, Alisha returned to her own home, she made a diet chart and timetable detailing what Abha needed to eat and do and when. Alisha especially pressured both of them to take a light walk every morning and promised to telephone to remind them every day.
The first day, even after years of going everywhere as a couple, without any other company, Janardan and Abha walked in awkward silence together, like two strangers. They strolled side by side, wrapped in the silence of years.
They reached a garden. It was such a charming morning they decided mutually to sit on a bench to rest. Nearby Janardan saw a swing. Suddenly, he was overcome with a wish to swing on one. It reminded him of his childhood; then, he’d felt as if he were flying. However, when he was a youth, it was almost a forbidden game for him. In society’s view, swings were for small kids and young girls. Men did not sit on swings.
Two more eyes were also gazing longingly upon those swings. At her core, Abha felt so lonely that she wished to fly away. All her life she had faced restrictions: In her father’s house, everything was preordained and regimented - laugh modestly… walk gracefully… don't do this… never do that… ad nauseam. All activity was ordered like an alphabet of life… everything was preplanned or arranged. Then, she was married. Though there were few such restrictions on her in her husband's household, there was also no real freedom. No one had stopped her from doing anything… yet, no one had ever allowed her do anything — not even she had allowed herself to do anything.
In that moment, Janardan saw Abha… he saw her and read her eyes for the first time in their life together. She, for her part, realized he was watching those swings with a child's ecstasy and with thoughts similar to her own.
His eyes alight, he asked, “Would you like to sit on those swings?”
“Me?” She replied hesitantly. “People will say this Granny has gone mad.”
“Which people?” Janardan looked around, a tentative smile on his lips. Children were playing; young men and women were jogging; everyone was so busy with their own lives that none noticed an old man and old lady sitting silently on a bench. He held her hand, for the first time in their marriage… he held her hand and gently but firmly led her to the swings. Each sat on a swing and began playing and laughing together.
Everyone in the garden now was looking at them. For children, it was a strange thing, perhaps funny, that an old couple were swinging. A young lady whispered in her lover's ears, "When we’re old, will you love me like that old man loves his wife?"
Her lover replied with youthful nonchalance, “Of course, baby!”
Everyone nearby in the garden turned their eyes toward the old couple. It seemed even the flowers were watching Abha and Janardan. But, finally, at long last, they were truly together, immune to the gazes of others. They alighted from the swings and walked on together, lost in themselves sharing memories of childhood, as the glacier of thirty years between them melted.
The truth of their relationship was not a well-known fact in their circles — not exactly. Everyone thought that they were the perfect couple, made for each other. Always together, they attended every function, every party, every ceremony, with their families, friends or social circle, as most happily married couples do. Not even their closest family or friends ever sensed anything unusual in their lives. Surprisingly, both of them often felt everything was fine. She thought it was his nature and he believed all other couples were like them.
When he was young, he had aspirations, goals to achieve something different in life. He wanted to work at something socially important, some meaningful career. He did not want to marry. On the day his father told him about possible brides for his marriage he told his father, "I don't want to marry."
"You don't want to marry!" he laughed, but more in shock. "Then what you do you want to do if you don’t want marriage?"
In his father's opinion, marriage was a vital necessity of life and marriage was obligatory for all.
"I want to devote my life to service,” Janardan said.
His father replied, "Marrying a girl is the biggest social service you can do, ha ha ha." His father had given his verdict.
And that was an age, especially in his circles, when children did not disobey parents, especially in such decisions. He might choose which shirt to wear, which dish to eat or which movie to see, but Janardan believed he could not determine how he would live his life.
However, he was not forced to marry Abha .After considering many alliances, his parents selected her for him and they married, with his consent. She was a beautiful girl, far more good-looking than he was. No one of his acquaintance had a wife who could compete with her beauty. Moreover, she was humble, selfless and undemanding.
Still, she behaved like an ordinary woman: interested only in housekeeping, saris and kitchen gossip. To her, television and newspapers were only for discovering new trends in fashion, or for learning Bollywood news. She seemed to have no goals beyond this. She had no interest in Stephen Hawkins’ discoveries, such as the knowledge that after millions and millions of years, the sun will die. She seemed uninterested in knowing why after so many years of Independence poverty persisted in India. He never heard her consider possible ways of educating the poor and Dalits [members of the lowest caste] of India. Such lofty issues seemed insignificant to Abha.
Janardan had come to feel his marriage was a major mistake, but he could not see how anything could be done. This made him judgmental and dissatisfied. He began niggling her about her work. At first, Abha tried to change herself and her ways. She soon realized it made no difference how he treated her. She lapsed and returned to her original ways. They never quarreled — most couples they knew quarreled.
The closest to disagreement they came might be Abha asking, "What will I cook today?"
Janardan might reply, “Whatever you like.”
Then, after a while he might ask, “What's for dinner today?”
“Brinjals [eggplant],” Abha might reply.
“Brinjals?” Janardan might complain, “Can’t you find anything else to cook?”
“Why? What's wrong with brinjals? And, I did ask you earlier what you wanted,” might be the snarkiest Abha could muster as a rejoinder.
"Hmm, OK,” Janardan might respond with dissatisfaction.
So their life together passed. Abha gave birth to two daughters. The children became a bond between them. Abha had a strong will, but never complained about anything, not even once. As we know, we become comfortable in our life styles and usually aren’t willing to change them. Being together, living their married life became their comfortable habit. Though sometimes, she felt: I am not perfect for him; he deserved someone more educated… more enlightened than me. Janardan, on the other hand, often thought she deserved a better husband and more credit for all she did.
When, suddenly Abha complained of chest pains and almost fainted, Janardan rushed her to the hospital. The doctor said she’d suffered a mild heart attack. Alisha, their elder daughter who lived in the same city, came right away to manage everything.
When, a week later, Alisha returned to her own home, she made a diet chart and timetable detailing what Abha needed to eat and do and when. Alisha especially pressured both of them to take a light walk every morning and promised to telephone to remind them every day.
The first day, even after years of going everywhere as a couple, without any other company, Janardan and Abha walked in awkward silence together, like two strangers. They strolled side by side, wrapped in the silence of years.
They reached a garden. It was such a charming morning they decided mutually to sit on a bench to rest. Nearby Janardan saw a swing. Suddenly, he was overcome with a wish to swing on one. It reminded him of his childhood; then, he’d felt as if he were flying. However, when he was a youth, it was almost a forbidden game for him. In society’s view, swings were for small kids and young girls. Men did not sit on swings.
Two more eyes were also gazing longingly upon those swings. At her core, Abha felt so lonely that she wished to fly away. All her life she had faced restrictions: In her father’s house, everything was preordained and regimented - laugh modestly… walk gracefully… don't do this… never do that… ad nauseam. All activity was ordered like an alphabet of life… everything was preplanned or arranged. Then, she was married. Though there were few such restrictions on her in her husband's household, there was also no real freedom. No one had stopped her from doing anything… yet, no one had ever allowed her do anything — not even she had allowed herself to do anything.
In that moment, Janardan saw Abha… he saw her and read her eyes for the first time in their life together. She, for her part, realized he was watching those swings with a child's ecstasy and with thoughts similar to her own.
His eyes alight, he asked, “Would you like to sit on those swings?”
“Me?” She replied hesitantly. “People will say this Granny has gone mad.”
“Which people?” Janardan looked around, a tentative smile on his lips. Children were playing; young men and women were jogging; everyone was so busy with their own lives that none noticed an old man and old lady sitting silently on a bench. He held her hand, for the first time in their marriage… he held her hand and gently but firmly led her to the swings. Each sat on a swing and began playing and laughing together.
Everyone in the garden now was looking at them. For children, it was a strange thing, perhaps funny, that an old couple were swinging. A young lady whispered in her lover's ears, "When we’re old, will you love me like that old man loves his wife?"
Her lover replied with youthful nonchalance, “Of course, baby!”
Everyone nearby in the garden turned their eyes toward the old couple. It seemed even the flowers were watching Abha and Janardan. But, finally, at long last, they were truly together, immune to the gazes of others. They alighted from the swings and walked on together, lost in themselves sharing memories of childhood, as the glacier of thirty years between them melted.
Baljeet Mehta (India): This story is very realistic.. well done... keep it up!