Shall We?

By Dikshita Dey

“I’m sorry Mrs. Banerjee, but I honestly don’t think it shall ever be biologically possible for you.”

I generally don’t believe in being stuck up over something. Life’s been a rollercoaster ride so far and I’ve always been a sort of a person who laughs it off and walks on. I had been walking just fine after I heard those words; I just wasn’t sure if I was laughing anymore. I wouldn’t say I was depressed, but lately, nothing seems fun anymore. Can you believe it, last evening there was such a beautiful winter rain, and I didn’t stick my hands and face out of the window even once?

I was early on my way back home from office and earphones plugged on, I kept on walking; with a train of thoughts in my head, yet thinking of nothing in particular, barely aware of a faint burning smell from the corner of the street. Only when I reached our doorway, I realized that the smell had grown stronger. And when I heard the clanging of utensils inside, I assumed that something was being concocted at our house. I tried to recall the date. But there wasn’t one significant occasion in the month of February. I and Roudro would be married 4 years this December and remembering, that last time my husband had brewed something special was the time he had almost set our cat on fire, I groaned as I inserted the key and let myself in.

There was just barely enough light in the hallway for me to read a hasty note kept on the corner table saying BEDROOM PLS with a reddish stain on it. Hoping that it wasn’t blood, I sighed as I dropped my bag on table and walked upstairs.

Fairy-lights on the window sill faintly illuminated the room and two balloons were tied on my side of the bed. The whole room was a mess but the bed had been made and a glass of lemonade along with my Bluetooth speaker was there on the bedside table. I smiled as I picked up the speaker and went inside the bathroom, where my towel and clothes were neatly hung. Listening to music while showering was my habit since teen days but it had been a while since I last did that as well. So, I took all my time.

By the time I stepped out, Roudro was already there, sitting on the bed wearing a party hat, balancing two plates of pizza on his palms and a large bottle of coke between his feet.

“I see you haven’t had your lemonade”; he complained. “It was freshly made. It’s not so fresh anymore”

I rolled my eyes “Why is the cat wearing a party hat?”

“I needed moral support”

I chuckled as I sat down beside him and asked; “Why, what’s the occasion?”

Roudro fumbled for something in his pockets and pulled out a piece of paper.

“This.”

He took a glance at it shoved it back inside his pocket.

“No that’s the pizza bill. Sorry.”

Then he scampered around for another couple of minutes all over the room and finally discovered what he was searching for, under his pillow and handed it to me. It was an orphanage brochure.

I looked up at him blankly. He took my hands in his and said;

“You know I didn’t have a mom when I was growing up. If I hadn’t been married to you, I would’ve never known what a mother must have felt like anyway. Just because you can’t have a kid, doesn’t mean you can’t be a mom,” he paused for a second and went on; “It’s your decision. I don’t mind lying next to you on this bed, binge watching Marvel and Disney for the rest of my life. No matter whether there’s a kid between us or not.

I was too shocked to say anything. I just kept on holding his hand staring at him. After a moment Roudro said;

“I memorized a whole page of speech. I can’t believe I forgot everything I practised fifteen minutes ago”

I flung my arms across around him as I burst into peals of tears and laughter. I couldn’t figure out words that could express what I felt in that moment and I didn’t need to. I was just happy that this was the man with whom I had to figure out the rest of my life. Nevertheless, a decision had to be made, and a whole lot of things to be thought of and considered. But those could wait till the morning. I held on to Roudro closely as he pulled me in a firmer embrace. And after a second, he whispered into my ears;

“And there’s one thing else.”

“Hmm?”

“I tried to bake a cake. And burnt down the OTG.”

By Dikshita Dey