U-Turn

Rakesh was troubled. Things were coming to a head, at least in the cauldron that was his brain.

Rakesh and his wife Sansskriti had recently shifted to Gurgaon, finally ditching the rented DDA flat for a more peaceful stack of apartments. They owned the ground floor apartment in one of 6 towers that made up Rakshak Towers. Everyday as Rakesh drove out of the parking lot heading for work, he would pass by their drawing room window, and find Sanskriti waiting there to wave to him.

She would wave, and he would wave back. Initially he kept waving until he was out of sight. He noticed however, that Sanskriti would wait for a split second longer, waving, until her expression and tight smile spelt victory. What could be giving Sanskriti such pleasure he wondered, and with his usual Sherlockian deduction worked it out to be a victory at waving. Indeed, the challenge was to wave longer than he did.

He tested his hypothesis, somewhat incredulously, sure that a woman of 26, of which the last two had been spent married and completing a delayed Masters would be the kind to engage in waving games. Yet the look of triumph was unmistakable when he pulled his hand back into the car earlier than usual. That really was it!

His natural instinct was to compete and for a few days he stuck his hand out, even as he turned out of the gate onto the road, quite confident that he had won. His own triumphs came with a bitter aftertaste of something very similar to hypocrisy. One day, as he looked back at the receding figure of his wife, in his rear-view mirror, she looked sad to him. Immediately he drew in his hand. It stung with extreme pangs of guilt. What the f@#$ was he doing being so childish?

He had enough time before he had to turn out of the gate, to sneak a quick last peak at his rearview mirror. Triumph once more. He noticed, or thought he noticed an extra spring in Sansrkiti’s step that evening. The feeling of quiet power it evoked in him was quite erotic. It turned out to be a very enjoyable night.

From then on Rakesh had taken to withdrawing his hand at various distances from the gate, and enjoying the look of victory on his wife’s face. A week later though there was a definite pal in her triumph. Things got to a point where, having retracted his hand, he’d watch Sanskriti lower her own, but bite her lower lip, and strain against the frame of the window, trying to lean out to get a better view. The squint in her eyes betrayed her anxiety. Something was bothering her.

And so Rakesh was troubled.

Perhaps it was the mechanical certainty of the victory that plagued Sanskriti. The thrill of the unknown is what he surmised she desired. But how does one provide that. He was rather certain she didn’t know he lost on purpose. Then she would assume he pulled his hand back in at precisely the moment he stopped waving to her, or thinking of her. This set him off on another train of thought. If what was plaguing her was that it seemed he stopped thinking of her relatively soon, then she would need to be reassured that he thought of her at least until after he left the gate. Yet the solution must allow him to lose as well.

Rakesh didn’t think Sherlock would be quite upto the task of solving this one. He decided to leave it up to the greatest genius ever, incidentally very real, but also very inhuman – Google. Rakesh had used it to solve several problems of his life, and was always amazed how even a lazily typed query, even why does my wife feel sad when I leave for work each morning, might find article with literally that for a title, such was the variety of human output on the internet. How much of it was useful Rakesh had his reservations about, but he was sure Google would get the rankings right, and he’d be lead to the most popular sources right away.

Rakesh was so psyched about this new course of action he could undertake to please his wife, he decided to set aside the last half hour, from 11 to 1130 still free in his schedule that day to googling his wife’s distress. He reached for his phone to make the change. It wasn’t there.

Check!

I Checked, its not there. It has to be, where else would I keep it? Trousers? No it’s not in my trousers. Slow down, come to the side of the road and then check everywhere. Dashboard? Glove compartment? Gove Compartment that’s never opened. Just check it… okay… Its not here. Its not here.

It must be at home! Hell! Okay, let’s go back.

A U turn later, and barely 10 minutes after leaving his house, Rakesh was driving down the driveway looking into the same drawing room window. He saw Sanskriti, talking to someone outside the door. Her slim profile in her tee shirt and jeans was impressive at all times, and right now in the morning, when she stood tall, it was breathtaking.

She shut the door. With the unerring sense all of us have, to pick up when we’re being looked at, and know where and who is doing it Sanskriti turned towards scanned the area visible outside the window, apprehension written large across her face. Then she spotted the car, first surprise and then joy flooded her face.

Rakesh looking straight into her eyes for those few seconds saw it all happen as though in slow motion. His own features reflected the smile he saw on Sanskriti’s. So this was it? Yeah apparently… Nice! I guess we’ll be late for work? Yup, but we had that half an hour free anyway… yeah and that meeting at noon isn’t really urgent or anything. For that matter….