The steaming hot tea and the aroma of cardamom were discernible at a distance. With tiny steps and henna-clad hands, she made her way to me. The tea cups on the tray and that red choora (wedding bangles) ringing on her wrist made for a harmony that still muses me.
43 years later, the tea today is equally hot but the aroma of cardamom isn’t that prominent. With baby steps and wrinkled hands, I walk towards her. The tea cups on the tray make a different sound nowadays as my shrivelled old hand play their game. I see her sleeping like a baby, but those snores are a little louder these days. It’s not that I am complaining, for I may not sleep well without her background music. Just that, I often recall those days when my late-night cricket matches were watched on mute, for disturbing her sleep, scared me the most.
Her innocent face is still the same, just a few beautiful wrinkles now sitting on it. Unsure of the beauty standards, she still, for me, is the most stunning of all. With her tea by the bedside and her favourite coconut biscuits without a miss, I wake her up every day. I didn’t realize when these morning teas became my duty, but doing this for her, just makes me so happy.
I see her wardrobe which does not have a single beige tone, for I always loved colours on her. While mine is loaded with nudes and neutrals, just how she likes me wearing. How funny is it to witness that her likings become mine, and mine became hers? I often question myself and but guess that’s what they call LOVE.
No matter how old you get in your marriage, some things are here to say. Her endless questions while I am in the washroom, don’t annoy me anymore. Her nagging about my messy habits is a part of my routine, for sure. Neither did I change, nor did she give up, only time has passed by, while we are the same. She still rates my dressing sense, and yet I seek her approval. I never care to compliment her, yet she always whispers ‘Kabhi to kuchh kaha karo’.
43 years with her, I have so much to say. How do I tell her that little bindi on her forehead just makes my day? Her less-salted food still wins the game. She often farts and blames it on old age, while the information about her secret munching and those parathas is never shared. I know so much, just love to stay quiet, for her puerility is hilarious to watch. From the phone chargers to the TV remote, from the hot water bottle to my joint pain oil, now everything falls under her safekeeping. Yet I get the scolding if anything goes missing.
Yes, I do remain silent, yet my eyes have a lot to say. It’s not that she can’t read them, she often can read my mind. She just likes to tease me, and that is what I like to do too. We both now need a stick to walk, but each other’s hand is the most stable of all. So, we hold hands more often and accompany each other wherever we go. Yes, we still argue a lot, just that we end up forgetting the cause. Blame it to the old age, or the need to be together. Arguments these days are short-lived, for finding a reason and then a solution… ahh!! we aren’t bothered. Guess the shades of LOVE change with time, ours is currently golden that just can’t stop shining.