Honestly, I did not know what time it was. It wasn’t one of
those moments when you can’t tell 9 P.M. from 7 A.M. It was one of those when
you wake up abruptly only to see that it’s still dark outside, but you can’t
decide whether you’ve slept too much, or not enough. Only, I hadn’t been
asleep; just been suspended in a hazy daze.
‘Sir, I know these are tough times for you, but we need you to cooperate.’
‘Hmm?’ I looked up, bemused.
‘Sir, I know these are…’
‘Oh yes. Right. What do you guys want from me?’
‘Sir, it’s policy. We need to know what happened?’
‘I just came back from work. I don’t know what she did, and why she did it.’
‘Sir, these cases aren’t common. Was she depressed?’
‘Not to my knowledge, no.’
‘Was she on any medicines?’
‘Yes. Valproate.’
‘Was she sick?’
‘I wouldn’t call her sick.’
‘What would you call her, then?’
‘Many things.’
‘Sir, the sooner I know everything, the sooner we can let you go. I suggest you cooperate. I’m sorry, but it is imperative that we know everything. Protocol.’
And then, seeing that I had no other option, I told the police officer everything I knew, or correctly, everything I understood.
Breakfast was always two pieces of brown bread with the same
number of boiled eggs, and a single cup of coffee spilt into two. No knives;
two forks, one on each side and two teaspoons of sugar for the coffee.
Over the course of four weeks, my entire room had changed. I was always knew that life changes once you’re married, but this wasn’t the kind of change I could’ve never anticipated this. But then, I tried my best to respect, and reconcile with the fact that her ‘ideal’ home could, and probably did, differ from mine. Despite all my efforts to be understanding and accommodating, the discomfiture caused by the fact that I came home to a different place every day left me, well, for a better term, discomfited.
She had disposed off with the solitary sofa, and replaced it with two chairs, one for each side of the bed and two little tables to give them company. She had a keen eye for details, which she exhibited with the efficiency with which she replaced the five ceiling spotlights with two tube lights in the time I went to office and came back.
I thought I knew what I was taking upon myself when I married her, but her idiosyncrasies, ranging from the larger, obvious changes, to the barely conspicuous ones, left me astounded.
‘Why do you keep changing everything? What was wrong with the sofa?’
‘There is something odd about odd numbers.’ She would say.
