03-11-2026, 12:10 AM
Monica mentioned it casually over breakfast on Tuesday.
“Ranga is in Jaipur for three or four days. Some site visit he has and a meeting with some political party people. He left early this morning.”
Rakesh looked up from his plate. The information should have eased something in him. It did not. The fear had already learned how to live without evidence.
That night, and the nights after, the same sleep walking sequence repeated.
He woke in the dark with the dream still vivid and walked the short hallway on legs that still trembled after only a few steps. The master bedroom door stood ajar. He pushed it open.
Monica slept alone. Always alone. Ranga was thousand km away in Jaipur.
Some nights the compulsion went further. He would continue past the bedroom, unlock the main door of the flat, and stand in the corridor near the apartment gate, staring at the lift lobby as if Ranga might step out of it even though the man was a thousand kilometres away. The concrete floor was cool under his bare feet. The building was silent. Eventually he would turn back, lock the door, and return to his own bed with the same thin reassurance he repeated every time: the medicine was making him like this!
That Friday was Karwa Chauth. Just a week left for Diwali. Karwa Chauth was the most auspicious tradition in a married life of a woman.
Monica told him in the morning while she set the thali out on the low table in the living room.
“I’ll keep the fast the same as every year.”
Rakesh, still pale, still moving carefully between chair and sofa, frowned.
“What’s the need? You have office. You have that client meeting. You’re already tired looking after me.”
Monica looked at him, the practical expression softening for a moment.
“I do it every year. Why not this year? And look at your health. If there is any year I should do it properly, it is this one.”
Rakesh tried to laugh. The sound came out thin.
“I’m just okay. Recovering fast.”
She came around the table, “I know, jaanu. Sometimes the wife’s prayer helps more than medicine, baby.”
She leaned down and kissed him— soft, closed-mouthed, lingering only a second longer than a casual kiss. Then she straightened and returned to the day’s preparations. The fast began.
It was evening when the door bell rang!
Rakesh heard her voice first from his bedroom, bright with the particular ease she used only with one person.
“How was Jaipur? You were completely unreachable.”
Ranga’s laugh carried clearly down the short hallway— open, familiar, the laugh of a man who had no need to measure his words in this house.
“Site was a horrible mess Monica. The contractor tried to change the marble at the last minute. I had to sit on him for two days. Then the meeting with the political party team ran long. I took the late bus back. You should see the samples they sent— one of them is actually good for the café counter.”
They continued talking in the same unhurried, shared rhythm: details of the trip, a complaint about the hotel, Jaipur’s famous badaam milk. The conversation sounded like the private language of two people who had already built a daily life around each other. Rakesh lay still and listened to every word.
A minute later Ranga stepped into the bedroom. He came straight to the bed and gave Rakesh’s shoulder a firm, almost rough shake.
“How are you doing, bhai? Looking better I think ”
Rakesh nodded, the movement small.
“Yes Ranga Saab lot Better.”
“Is the temperature coming back in the middle of the night ? ”
“Not much. Normal since last week. Nothing to worry.”
Rakesh lied, no one knows about those ghost walks!
Ranga straightened, then glanced toward the doorway where Monica had appeared, still in the clothes she had worn for the fast, the thali already arranged behind her in the living room.
“Oh Rakesh bhai , today is Karwa Chauth,” Ranga said, the smile still present. “Look how your sweet wife is fasting the whole day for you” He looked at Monica when he said it, the gaze steady and open, carrying more than the words themselves.
“Ranga is in Jaipur for three or four days. Some site visit he has and a meeting with some political party people. He left early this morning.”
Rakesh looked up from his plate. The information should have eased something in him. It did not. The fear had already learned how to live without evidence.
That night, and the nights after, the same sleep walking sequence repeated.
He woke in the dark with the dream still vivid and walked the short hallway on legs that still trembled after only a few steps. The master bedroom door stood ajar. He pushed it open.
Monica slept alone. Always alone. Ranga was thousand km away in Jaipur.
Some nights the compulsion went further. He would continue past the bedroom, unlock the main door of the flat, and stand in the corridor near the apartment gate, staring at the lift lobby as if Ranga might step out of it even though the man was a thousand kilometres away. The concrete floor was cool under his bare feet. The building was silent. Eventually he would turn back, lock the door, and return to his own bed with the same thin reassurance he repeated every time: the medicine was making him like this!
That Friday was Karwa Chauth. Just a week left for Diwali. Karwa Chauth was the most auspicious tradition in a married life of a woman.
Monica told him in the morning while she set the thali out on the low table in the living room.
“I’ll keep the fast the same as every year.”
Rakesh, still pale, still moving carefully between chair and sofa, frowned.
“What’s the need? You have office. You have that client meeting. You’re already tired looking after me.”
Monica looked at him, the practical expression softening for a moment.
“I do it every year. Why not this year? And look at your health. If there is any year I should do it properly, it is this one.”
Rakesh tried to laugh. The sound came out thin.
“I’m just okay. Recovering fast.”
She came around the table, “I know, jaanu. Sometimes the wife’s prayer helps more than medicine, baby.”
She leaned down and kissed him— soft, closed-mouthed, lingering only a second longer than a casual kiss. Then she straightened and returned to the day’s preparations. The fast began.
It was evening when the door bell rang!
Rakesh heard her voice first from his bedroom, bright with the particular ease she used only with one person.
“How was Jaipur? You were completely unreachable.”
Ranga’s laugh carried clearly down the short hallway— open, familiar, the laugh of a man who had no need to measure his words in this house.
“Site was a horrible mess Monica. The contractor tried to change the marble at the last minute. I had to sit on him for two days. Then the meeting with the political party team ran long. I took the late bus back. You should see the samples they sent— one of them is actually good for the café counter.”
They continued talking in the same unhurried, shared rhythm: details of the trip, a complaint about the hotel, Jaipur’s famous badaam milk. The conversation sounded like the private language of two people who had already built a daily life around each other. Rakesh lay still and listened to every word.
A minute later Ranga stepped into the bedroom. He came straight to the bed and gave Rakesh’s shoulder a firm, almost rough shake.
“How are you doing, bhai? Looking better I think ”
Rakesh nodded, the movement small.
“Yes Ranga Saab lot Better.”
“Is the temperature coming back in the middle of the night ? ”
“Not much. Normal since last week. Nothing to worry.”
Rakesh lied, no one knows about those ghost walks!
Ranga straightened, then glanced toward the doorway where Monica had appeared, still in the clothes she had worn for the fast, the thali already arranged behind her in the living room.
“Oh Rakesh bhai , today is Karwa Chauth,” Ranga said, the smile still present. “Look how your sweet wife is fasting the whole day for you” He looked at Monica when he said it, the gaze steady and open, carrying more than the words themselves.
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