Sukima's Fears - Short Story

“Jeenal, where are you?” Sukima called out. “Coming Mom. I am running late. Make sure coffee is ready”, Jeenal cried from her room as she hurriedly worked with the dryer. Jeenal was her parents’ only child. She was born eight years after their wedding. Sukima was all of 16, when she fell in love with Jeenal’s dad, Sarthak Patel from Gandhinagar. Sarthak was looking for business opportunities in Assam. His uncle owned a furniture shop there. Sarthak was staying in Dibrugarh. Sukima was the daughter of Mr. Barua, manager of the furniture shop. She would deliver lunch for her father. As fate would have it, two young people met day after day, and love blossomed. Sukima’s father threatened to kill her if she did not quit the idea of marrying the Gujarati businessman. On one cold night of December, Sukima fled with Sarthak. They came to Kolkata, the then Calcutta and struggled with new beginnings. Sarthak set up a tea stall outside the Secretariat. Sukima assisted him. Their hard work and Sarthak’s business acumen bore fruits. They started a tea-shop, and by the time Jeenal was all of five years old, Sarthak was running a sweet shop. Life became busier and as Sukima’s love became richer for Sarthak, his feelings faded. Sukima loved the wine growing better with age; Sarthak saw the dust settling on their relationship. Sukima always wanted another child. Sarthak never denied her. But, their relationship had become so dead, that only signs of its existence were those occasional moments in bed when two bodies united, satiated their desires and parted ways. Sukima could never conceive thereon. Jeenal became the center of her life. She ensured she provided for Jeenal in all ways. Sarthak loved his daughter like every doting father. He ensured she had the best possible amenities and loads of love from her dad. I am unsure if Jeenal ever received parental affection. The unison of her father and mother was a moment that was still alien to her. Sukima often told her daughter, that she felt guilty of hurting her father. She often felt she should not have fled with her dad. Jeenal would just exclaim how filmy her parents’ lives had been. “I also want to run away and get married”, Jeenal often told her friends. Her mother dreaded the thought of not being able to select the “right guy” for her daughter. “What if Jeenal makes a hurried decision like me? What if her husband’s love diminishes with time? What if her man leaves her? Will Sarthak support her, or become indifferent like my own father?” These thoughts had begun to race Sukima’s mind as she saw her daughter’s growing affection for a Muslim guy, whom Sarthak would never accept. He was a staunch Hindu. Sarthak would rather poison Jeenal than accept a Muslim. Sukima knew Jeenal was exactly like her. Same firmness, same fire for love, and same passion. That night, Sarthak slapped Jeenal, locked her in the room and went out of the house. The dreaded day was here. Jeenal had expressed her plans of getting married to Aatish to her dad. Sarthak slapped Sukima, then Jeenal. He broke a few artefacts in the process as well. Next morning, Sukima went to Jennal’s room to wake her. The bed was empty. Cupboard intact; Jewellery on the side table. Jeenal was nowhere in sight. Sukima looked around and screamed. “Did she run away, like you ran away from your house”, Sarthak broke in the room. He was silent. The daughter he doted on had gone. She had left him. He had lost his only reason to smile. Jeenal hung from the ceiling fan. She wore her favourite kurta, that Aatish had gifted her on their anniversary. Sukima saw herself in the mirror. Her daughter was not like her. She did not leave her dad for another man. She left herself for both the men. Would Jeenal’s life be as monotone like her mother? Why was Sukima so sure that Jeenal’s life would be an impression of her life? Why was Sarthak so against her daughter, when he himself ran away with Sukima. Did his definition of love change in 23 years? Jeenal had gone; Sukima was rid of all her fears now. Sarthak was busy managing the hotel. Life was as same as yesterday once again.