My name is Avi and I work as an engineer in a reputed firm in Mumbai. I have been living in Mumbai for the past year and a half, during which time, I also happened to get married to the love of my life. I would happily call myself a pretty decent guy, someone who could easily score an A+ in the perfect husband material scorecard, if there were any. I am honest, I work hard, I am sincere and fun-loving and I help my wife out in the kitchen.
My wife, Pria, is probably the best thing that has ever happened to me. Pria is the most stunning girl I have ever come across, and, mind you, I have had encounters with a lot of beautiful women in my life. She is not just beautiful, but has that effortless essence of being confident and sexy and effervescent all at the same time. She is so strong-headed that sometimes when she speaks, I am forced to stand back and take notice, and marvel at what I have gotten myself into. Being around her is a constant pleasure, where nothing is ever on a standstill, where there’s a level of continual interest infused into our lives. It is as if, her very presence permeates a mellow scent into our bedroom, the comfort of which seeps through our wooden flooring and the uneasiness of which floats in the chandeliers of our living room.
Now, coming to the point why Pria is not staying with me any longer – Pria was forced to leave me only two weeks before, and it is since then that I have understood all of the above things that were omnipresent in my life with her and now are far gone. I haven’t heard her voice in two weeks. She won’t take my calls. No one opened the door when I ended up at her old house. And she won’t reply to any of my texts.
A lot of my friends asked me what happened to our idyllic abode, and why Pria is not living with me any longer. I have tried explaining to some of my closest friends, but most haven’t been able to understand.
Why? There’s no affair, there’s no cheating, and the fact that we both love each other deeply has been long established. Then, why?
Let me start by telling you all, that it is entirely my fault. She did not leave by choice. She was forced to leave me. She tried really hard to stay, to hold on to the last leg of hope that she had to make it work. She had had long conversations with me for the longest time I remember, about the things that bothered her and how these things were really important for her to stay engaged in this relationship.
She is the kind of girl that gets turned on by conversations. No hullabaloo on romantic night outs or movies, no fuss with food and definitely no racket of expensive gifting.
A glass of wine and a long night of intellectually stimulating, soul-stirring conversation about anything under the sun, and Pria would glow. You could feel the warmth in her voice and the glimmer in her eyes, when she was involved in conversations like these. She reminded me time and again, that money, wealth, work and materialistic pleasures were important, but the most important and significant ambition of one’s life should be to enhance one’s relationship with one another.
She was big on relationships. She wanted to explore each bit of my body, explore the depths of my soul that no one else ever had, touch me in places no one ever dared. When she spoke to others, she hated small talk – She loved getting to know people, and she wanted to see their vulnerabilities. And she wanted to show them hers. She told me, exasperated, with tears in her eyes and her tender fingers clutching her brown, beautiful hair, that she couldn’t live a life of mundaneness. She wanted extra-ordinary. She wanted to reach a level of intimacy with me that no two other people have ever experienced.
She screamed once, her cries echoing through the thin walls of our apartment – Her cries were not a result of anger, but of deep-rooted sadness and frustration.
All she wanted was to talk to me. All she wanted was for me to talk to her. All she wanted for me was to dedicate a couple of hours to make her feel alive again.
And I couldn’t do that for her. I couldn’t do that for the girl I loved the most, and will probably die loving.
I didn’t think it was this important to her. Despite her trying, despite her clearly telling me what she wanted from life, I did not pay heed. There were more important things in my life, such as, work, being on top of my clients’ needs, counting and investing money, meeting up with old friends, catching up on my sleep and so on. A couple of times, I broke her trust, and she was broken. She was suffering for trusting in me. But the joy of our relationship was far more imperative to her and made her let go of things. She always looked forward to a better day. I always had the best intentions for her. I wanted to do these things for her, but now that I go back and think, did I really?
If I really wanted to make her laugh and squeal with joy, I would have, wouldn’t I?
I would have made time.
I would have loved her each day, every day, not just with the intensity that she wanted, but with the intensity that she deserved. She deserved the very best – A girl who loved and lived with passion deserves to be surrounded by people that feel the same level of passion too.
A lot of my friends told me that this wasn’t a reason big enough for her to have left me. I didn’t cheat on her, right? I never raised my hand on her, right? I never abused her, right? – But, we don’t decide if the reasons were substantial or not. Society cannot decide if there are certain checklists or high-risk behaviors that qualifies a person to leave their partners. And despite not having done anything “wrong”, I know deep down that I have “wronged” her. And so, this letter is for all those men who love their wives or girlfriends but have forgotten to treat them so. Taking someone for granted is the worst thing you can do.
Not just for the relationship, but for yourself.
Because, when they aren’t around, you are the one that is left behind looking at the walls that are adorned with her life-sized portraits. You are the one who is left behind looking for clothes that smelled of hers. You are the one that tries on her old shirts. You are the one that regrets not having her sleep next to you in bed every single night.
All she wanted was for me to talk to her.
All she wanted was for me to make her feel alive.
And now, I don’t even know if she is.
I haven’t heard from her in two weeks.