I pressed on the button “G”.

Inside the elevator, there were three of us. Mrs. Sen and another fifty-plus man who was probably a visitor as I have never seen him before. Mrs. Sen said “hullo, how’s everything?” Usual small talk. I said, “Fine, how are you?” She nodded to mean that she was fine. Fortunately she did not start a conversation straight away. I was not in a mood for one.

I finally told Indrani the truth today. I had struggled all day, in fact last few days. I looked at her unsuspecting face. And told her. Indrani, it is over between us. I am sorry.

I somehow hate these closed elevators. “Lifts” as they are called here. These closed lifts are so claustrophobic. This guest in the elevator, this outsider, has a smell in his mouth which I could not stand. Probably some kind of pan masala, chewing tobacco. It was irritating but I was not in a mood to think about him.

I could not resist from thinking about Indrani. My wife. Whom I have just told that our relationship is over. She sat in one corner of the sofa and kept quiet, her face looking towards the floor. She was dressed in a yellow handloom Sari. She had just come back from school. I didn’t go to college today. Shreya, our daughter, was with her grandparents.

I was expecting her to say something. May be shout at me. May be break a few glasses. May be start crying and ask me how I could be so cruel and break up not just the relationship but also this beautiful home which she has so painstakingly created.

She said nothing. She kept silent, looked at me and then looked downward at the floor. I could not understand what she thought. But I could not bear the silence. So I decided to leave. Not sure where to. But I needed to get out. I had lost my right to stay in that apartment. That was no more my home.

The elevator stopped at the fifth floor. A slightly irritating mechanical voice told us that it was the fifth floor, in an American accent. I was hoping that this man with chewing tobacco in his mouth would step down. He didn’t. Instead a young couple got in. I think I have seen the girl before. One of those daddy-has-spoilt-me types. The young man with her was a friend; going by their looks probably an intimate friend. I withdrew towards the back of the elevator.

I could feel a sharp pain inside my head. Shouldn’t I feel relieved? That I could finally tell her what I wanted to say for the last few months? Yes, Indrani, we had a wonderful time, so many memories, so many difficulties faced together, our marriage, our first holiday, the books we bought together and wrote our names on them, our child, our fights over how to decorate our small little apartment…all that…yes, Indrani that was wonderful. But…but…but…Indrani…somewhere, something snapped…I wish I knew when. Shouldn’t I feel glad that it was finally over and I did not need to do any more act of deception?

II

Actually, I know when. I mean when it snapped. Last year, ten years after our marriage I met Rachel in London. Over a pint of beer after a talk I gave. She was a PhD student looking for an opportunity to come to West Bengal to study the changing political economy of the state following the fall of the Left Front. Rachel was young, slightly built, pale complexion with bright eyes and curly red hair. Rachel was full of energy. She asked me one question per minute. She kept apologizing, “Am I speaking too fast?” When I said no, she promptly asked the next question.

We met again the next day. There was a demonstration and Rachel took me there. I was initially hesitant, thought maybe it was not what a scholar from abroad should be doing. But then I did. I could not resist the opportunity of spending time with her. Nor did I want to give her the impression that I was a coward.

I felt young once more. I shouted with students almost half my age. The demand was not important. The shouting was. That moment when the fear of the policemen surrounding us melted away and we joined hands and we found our voice. I could feel the burden of routine existence temporarily removed from my soul.

Yes, that was the moment it snapped. I could feel that it was gone Indrani…gone. Indrani and Shreya were my responsibilities, Rachel made me feel young. I didn’t know when the love in our relationship… Indrani… had melted away. When Rachel smiled at me while singing “we shall overcome” I could feel my heart pumping faster, dangerously faster.

III

I got down from the elevator as it had reached the ground floor. I didn’t know what to do. Took a cigarette out of my pocket and took a puff. I went out of the gates of the housing society and started to walk aimlessly.

Indrani and I met in college. She was serious, methodical, attentive. She painstakingly took class-notes while I painstakingly finished my packets of cigarettes. She perhaps felt attracted to my ability to write beautiful prose and raise awkward questions while I was drawn towards her discipline and rigour. She stood with me while I was trying to finish my thesis and get a job. She took a job in a school instead of trying to pursue her higher studies.

I was selfish. Yes, I was. I dumped all my responsibilities on her shoulders pretending to be otherworldly and scholarly. She also perhaps enjoyed mothering me. Shreya was born and I hardly did anything for her. Except to do what I had to do. The terrible stress of the first few years was borne by Indrani alone. She sacrificed herself for us. Only at the very end of the day, before going to sleep, Indrani read a book; that was her time. But we stopped communicating except for the daily necessities. Groceries. Shreya’s homework. Social visits.

IV

Rachel and I kept discussing my work and the work she was planning to do and time flew. Yes, my selfish self forgot about all that Indrani had done for me because I was at that moment enjoying myself. I was feeling drawn towards the warmth of her wheatish skin. I wanted to run my fingers through her thick red hair. I wanted to lock my lips with hers. I knew she was igniting the devil inside me.

I told Rachel about Indrani, about Shreya. She kept quiet for a while. Then she said that I should take a call. Whatever I decided she would respect. I was supposed to leave next day.

Rachel and I went for a walk across the Waterloo Bridge. Then we went to a small second-hand book store. We didn’t buy anything, just browsed through. We came out and she said with a smile, “Bye.” She probably didn’t want to hope.

Someone sensible inside me told me to end it there. “End it now, it happens, end it now.”

We kept in touch. We couldn’t resist. We tried to pretend that it was purely academic. Her thesis, my ideas, books, methodology, footnotes. Yes all that but also, but also something more. Something I could not push aside.

After a while I knew I was pretending before Indrani. Pretending when she was talking about our holiday plans. Pretending when we tried to make love. Pretending when we went to see Durga Puja pandals with Shreya. Pretending when we discussed saving money for her higher education. My mind was elsewhere.

Message from Rachel – “Hi, how r u doing?” I looked at the screen for a moment and then replied – “I told her. This evening. Sitting alone. ”

She replied – “r u all right?”

I told her that I will talk to her later. I wanted to be alone.

V

As I sat in front of the water, the darkness swallowing the old tree in front of me, I thought of Indrani once more. That moment when I told her. Why was she so silent?

Was it possible that it came to her as a relief? Was she trying to say the same thing to me as well? May be she was also looking for the right moment to tell me – It’s over…I am sorry…but it’s over…?

I felt I needed to go back and talk to her again. In any case I needed to go back even if I wanted to move out. There were so many things to sort out.

I took the elevator. Fortunately this time it was empty. I pressed the button “10”. I was hardly able to think while the elevator moved upward.

I stood in front of the door. I rang the bell. Silence. I rang again. Silence. I couldn’t understand what was going on. Should I try to break the door? Did Indrani fall asleep? Is she all right?

I rang the bell again. There was no answer.