Tattoo

In our neighbourhood, everyone (except the old couple who lived a few houses away) thought that Shreya and Arjun were born to be soul-mates. That old couple were ‘just a mean fussy unfriendly lot’ ‘definitely frustrated being childless’, those were the local comments.

Arjun is a few months older than Shreya. Their families had shared a common compound wall, food, hardship and joy for two generations before they were born. They had gone together to the Holy Angels (Annexe) kindergarten. Though they later joined non-coed schools, they shared the same tuition teacher for Malayalam and Hindi; played together; exchanged notes, puzzles and books. At twelve, they read Bloodline and The Pirate, together checked the dictionary for the meaning of strange seductive acts. They defended and protected each other. Their parents considered them to be precocious but mature. They never crossed any limits of decency. At fifteen, when they secretly went to a tattoo bar, the other’s name on the wrist seemed like a blood-oath.

They were beautiful kids who grew up to be a wonderful couple. It was a match suitable for them, their parents and society. At their wedding, most of us cried with pride or envy when we blessed the handsome strong Arjun and the delicate gorgeous Shreya and wished them the very best in life.

On the night of the wedding, the young couple touched each other intimately for the first time. They made love eagerly and passionately, hardly troubled by the exhaustion they had felt after the long wedding party. Later, they held each other tightly, happy and satisfied. Arjun asked Shreya, ‘I want to take this relationship to the highest plane possible. I want to be true, honest and everything that you might need. Will you share that dream with me?’ Shreya took it as a rhetorical question and smiled at her husband. She nearly said, ‘I would…if I could…’ but stopped herself from saying it aloud.

They had a wonderful honeymoon in Mauritius. Arjun’s leave got over and they left to his place of work. In the Cantonment, Capt. Arjun and his new wife were received with a welcome party. Shreya settled into that new life in the Army Cantonment, adjusting well and got a teaching job in the Secondary school. It was a peaceful time, punctuated with parties given and accepted, for building new friendships and also developing their own relationship.

One day, three weeks after their honeymoon, Arjun told Shreya, ‘I love you very much. I will be honest with you…totally.’

She laughed when he told her about his childhood infatuations. She felt he was teasing her when he told her about his affair with an older woman as soon as he had joined the Army. He told her about the petty things he did to get the right posting or the trips abroad with the peacekeeping Corps. She believed some and ignored most of his stories. It did not really matter, she told herself. At one dinner, he introduced her to an attractive woman, ‘You remember Anju, don’t you…I told you about her…’ She nodded, smiled and talked to Anju, the ex-flame of her husband.

Six or seven months after their wedding, they decided to start trying for kids. That is also when the problem of infiltrating terrorists aggravated in the Northern hills. Capt. Arjun was chosen for a secret assignment. The night before he left, they made love passionately and as eagerly as on their first night.

A month later, Arjun’s superior officer visited Shreya and told her gently and slowly that Arjun was MIA (missing in action). She tried to continue as usual, probably assisted by shock and a general feeling of numbness. Her parents came to live with her. His parents also visited. They gave her the support she desperately needed. The months went by without any news to change the situation. Six months later, the two sets of parents and Capt. Arjun’s superiors advised her to take a break and return with her parents to our neighbourhood.

We were all so sad, all except that old mean couple. Months flew by. Shreya shifted from her parents’ house to a flat of her own. She studied further. She got an academic position in the University. One of her colleagues, a recently divorced scholar a few years older than her, became her companion. They had known each other for a long time. He is also from our neighbourhood. When she was in her early teens, she had even felt an infatuation that developed into a type of intense unrequited secret love for that brooding attractive intellectual in our area. Shreya and that scholar started living together.

Three years went by rather fast. One hot summer day, just a week before the Monsoon lashed this coast, our neighbourhood erupted with joy. Arjun had been found. The Defense Ministry managed to secure his release through some covert exchange. After his release, he was greeted by the President and the senior members of the Parliament. He was praised and awarded for his bravery and given a promotion. When he arrived in our neighbourhood, we greeted him with a lot of fanfare.

After Arjun spent some time with his parents, he went to Shreya’s flat. She was expecting him. He stood outside the door waiting for her to invite him in. She stood by the door silently. The scholar, her lover, came from within to stand by her side. Capt. Arjun knew the scholar from our neighbourhood and greeted him, ‘Hullo, Prof. Arjun…’ The scholar nodded but remained silent.

Arjun turned to leave but before he entered the lift, he told Shreya, ‘I guess you will be with me through this tattoo of your name. That tattoo on your wrist…I guess you will keep it for…’