Sunday, October 22, 2000		Life Ties

ON the surface they came across as an independent, successful and dynamic family who appeared to be straight out of a swanky advertisement. He was vice-president in a foreign bank. She was running her own public relations firm. Their daughter was studying in Sacred Heart, Dalhousie and son was all set to go to Doon School. They lived in Golf Links, a posh South Delhi residential locality. Both husband and wife drove to office in their respective cars — a Honda City and a recently acquired Qualis. They shopped in London and Singapore. Members of elite clubs they were invited to all the happening parties in town.

They were my batch-mates from school. One caught up with them every time one was in Delhi. In recent times our interaction had got reduced to telephone calls and e-mails. Meeting up was becoming increasingly difficult. Both travelled extensively (in different directions) and had taken to "keeping in touch" with each other via mobiles and post it" messages stuck onto surfaces of refrigerators, doors and soft boards in the bedroom and kitchen. These updated them on the status of domestic bills, provisioning, electrical, plumbing jobs and other household nitty gritty. They were both doing well and took pride in each other’s achievements.

Every time I spoke to her, she would rave about his latest business coup and when I would catch up with him he would marvel at how much of a go-getter she was, managing to bag contracts in a tough market environment where only the fittest could survive.

It was their 14th wedding anniversary and they had thrown a big party. We made it a point to be there. It was a fairytale setting. Beautifully lit-up lawns, a live band belting out golden oldies, city’s most sought after caterers and who’s who of the capital. It was a heady combination — enough to make people envious. Being with old friends with whom one had known since childhood, it wasn’t unusual to see them for what they were, shorn of the masks they had acquired in their onward journeys of life.

With us they were their usual mast selves, squatting on the floor, cracking jokes, talking in Hinglish, breaking into impromptu jigs and speaking up about whatever was on their mind without having to bother about how it was going to be interpreted. But, this time one felt there was a difference. There was palpable tension between the two.

During the entire evening one could see that although they did a splendid job of putting up a convincing social front, the chemistry between them was not sparkling. If at all, there was an icy coldness and an avoidance of making eye-contact. One saw them snap at each other and their body language seemed to hide a suppressed sense of anger and violence. Both avoided a situation which would allow them a prolonged intimacy with us, perhaps fearing that we may question or comment on the difference.

We were polite and kept our apprehensions and worries to ourselves. Next morning, almost intuitively, I received a call from him asking me to join him for lunch. Something told me that all was not hunky-dory. Was the meeting a way of reaching out and unburdening deepest thoughts and feelings? Or was it an attempt at offering explanations and seeking solutions to conflicts? The mind was racing, entertaining various possibilities.

He looked worn out and tense. Puffing a trail of cigarettes he let off steam. He didn’t know where his wedded life was headed. They had both done exceedingly well in their respective professions and earnt a name for themselves as being thorough professionals and workaholics. They had everything going for them. Yet, somewhere in their quest for personal growth and evolution they had grown apart. They were actually scared to sit down and talk or share a couple of hours together lest they say something unpleasant or be forced to address the reasons for their emotional and physical distancing. They had become two very different people.

Both had their own circle of friends and leisure activities. Even on the one holiday they had (Sunday), they did their own thing. He went for golf and she for bridge. They socialised separately. She found his banker friends boring and insipid and he found her PR crowd empty-headed and frivolous. When she started smoking and having an occasional drink he didn’t mind because everyone in their group did so. But when she graduated from being a casual smoker and drinker to a regular, he wasn’t ecstatic about it.

Rather than confront his anger, displeasure or resentment at that point of time and communicate his feelings to her, he chose to keep quiet. He didn’t want to snub her. Also somewhere he actually believed himself to be the quintessential liberated New Age Man who gave his wife the freedom of choice. He liked it when people complimented them on their "refreshingly open marriage".

The demands of her job required her to travel. While people in her social and professional circle unquestioningly accepted the image she wanted to flaunt, her old friends, relatives and family found it difficult to accept her for what she had become. Her style of dressing, talking, way of running the house, managing the children and overall priorities had changed. "How does being abusive, wearing plunging necklines, partying till 3 am and packing off kids to different boarding schools simply because you don’t have the time, justify professional needs?" asked an agitated Shyam.

Things reached a head when she announced to him that she was accepting a huge contract with a Malaysian firm for which she would have to camp there for eight months. It didn’t make sense to keep flying to and fro from India. And with their son due for admission in Doon, she saw no reason why she should let go this golden opportunity. He didn’t figure anywhere in her decision. He didn’t matter. She took him for granted and did not even think once that he would disapprove.

From being a cozy little family unit they had turned into a modern scattered nuclear family. Their eight-year-long ‘colourful’ courtship used to be the talk of the university. By the time they were in their late 20s they had become a proud papa and mamma two times over. They were the first one’s in their group to get fabulous jobs. Generous to a fault, theirs was an open house where food and wine flowed freely. There was always room for friends who wanted to spend the night. The kids too loved to be surrounded by warm aunts and uncles and happily involved parents. As jobs became more demanding and they registered meteoric rise in their careers, their social profile changed. There was no time for old friends. It was only business associates and clients who mattered.

There was no conscious attempt at being hoity-toity, they just flowed with the tide without questioning or seeing the direction they were moving towards.

It seemed fashionable to flaunt a certain lifestyle and at that time there seemed nothing objectionable about it. Once the pace had been set it was difficult to turn the clock back. Differences between them were becoming obvious but neither wanted to confront them for fear of being accused and/or forced to take harsh decisions/steps to alter what both didn’t really want to. So under the garb of forced normalcy they continued their march towards what they thought was prosperity and happiness. Till he was forced to confront the decay in their relationship which was before she did.

But why didn’t he talk of this earlier? Why didn’t he stop her, tell her what he didn’t like, what he was insecure about, what he feared? Why did he wait for things to reach this almost irretrievable stage? Why did he keep fooling himself into believing that all was well and that this is what he wanted? If he was conservative and traditional about certain things why did he pretend to be modern and liberated? Had he asked himself these soul-searching questions early on in his marriage he would have had his answers by now or maybe a different situation at hand.