Fuming with rage, She took that white piece of paper in her hand and sprung out of the bed. She stamping her feet angrily on the stairs as she climbed up and promised herself that she would never talk to him again. Not after what he did. Her mother had always taught her that forgiveness comes from an open heart, with no conditions attached. All these years, Amira had followed the path of forgiveness, a disrupted road it was yet it brought a sense of inner peace to her. It always did. She had forgiven him even on occasions she wasn't expected to be liberal. But today it was different. She gave a dirty look to the closed door behind which he was probably taking the last drag of his Marlboro. She imagined him sitting lazily on his rust-coloured bean bag wearing nothing but his favourite jockey boxers. And that aggravated her more. He had to learn to let go of his bachelorhood soon. Very soon. His habits always blew her up but she had always taken control of her anger. And today, his habits bothered her more than they ever did.
Sometimes, forgiveness doesn't work. You need to be vocal about your partner's faults, sit back and discuss them one at a time. Ignoring them may work for a few months, or a few years if both of you share a compromising nature. But it doesn't work that way in the long run. Amira was a little different. Not once in these 11 years that they had spent together, had she uttered a word against him. Whenever she found herself out of control, she would simply lock herself in her room and weep. But not a word against him or even his habits. 11 years, she had lived with him, not in the same house, but she had been totally committed to him.And since the past 1 year they had been sharing the same house. And it wasn't just Amira who showered her love onto Daksh. He too loved her. With all his might. Yes, a man loves a woman with his might. His physical strength, his vigour and his passion, together they make him strong enough to stand up to her demands. It is with his might that he becomes capable of looking after her. And so was Daksh, who loved Amira with all his might.
But there has to be a limit. A saturation point. Everybody reaches a saturation point at some time or the other, beyond which they refuse to take no more. Amira's life resembled a Pepsi bottle. All through her life she had ignored every issue that had bothered her. It got bottled up inside her. It isn't that she did not get a chance to speak up, she did get it. But she chose to stay mum. But when you open a Pepsi bottle after shaking it left, right and centre, all that's inside rushes out with all its might. A woman's might. An infuriated might. Shaken by Daksh's carelesslenss, Amira could no longer control her anger. She wanted to barge inside. There was no looking back. She had decided to call off the wedding. And that thought made her clench her fist, almost crushing the white paper, the receipt in her hand. She raised her arm and brought it close to her eyes. Twenty two lakh rupees, it screamed at her. Though the description wasn't readable but she could make out that it was a diamond necklace. She knew that Daksh couldn't afford that necklace. She also knew that his mother wouldn't have paid for that necklace or Amira would have known. But she had neither seen such a necklace nor had heard anybody talking about buying one. The date on the receipt said that it was bought 7 months ago. Living in the same house, sharing the same almirahs, the same lockers in the bank, she had not seen any necklace which was this expensive. If she didn't know about that piece of jewellery, it simply meant that Daksh had gifted it to some other woman just like he had gifted that ring to Swati, his friend from college. She had not questioned him then. She didn't know where did he get that money from. She didn't know how good a friend she was to him. She didn't know if he was fooling around with her. She simply trusted him. She knew that he loved her. She had just remained silent.
Unable to resist, she turned the knob unsure of what words would come out from her. She entered. It all looked different. Daksh wasn't sitting lazily on his bean bag. There was no cigarette smell in the air. He wasn't in his boxer shorts. His usually unkempt bed was carefully made. Clothes which were always strewn all over the place, were perhaps resting neatly in his almirah. Shoes, carefully lined up under the bed. And right in the middle there was Daksh, sitting on his bed. He was busy scribbling something. He didn't see Amira enter the room. Confused, Amira walked towards him. He looked up. Surprised to see her inside, he quickly grasped the red box lying on the bed and before he could realise what he was doing he hid it behind himself. But before Amira could say anything, he brought the box in front, looked straight in her eye and said, "Amira, look here." He took a deep breathe and said "This box contains all the money that I had saved in these years. This box is an account of all the hardwork that I have put in. Kept in this box are all those days which I had spent away from you, working late in the office. All those gifts that I had always wanted to buy for you but I didn't that time, they are all in this box. Before we get married, I want to return all that was meant for you." Saying this, he handed her the box and planted a kiss on her forehead.
Amira did not utter a word. All through her life she had followed the path of forgiveness. Just once, she wished to deviate from that path. Thankfully, she didn't or else her life would have ended up in a mess. Amira loosened her grip and let the receipt fall down. Numb from shock, she just managed to hug him.