Her Name is Hope

by: ASHA DOSANJ   

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Only if you knew what brought smiles to her face and brightened it from ear to ear. But the people who knew her would tell you that she did not smile a lot, she was not a happy person. I have wondered about it many times. She wanted to be happy, throw her head back in abandon and laugh until tears came rolling down. Tears did come crashing down but there were not many laughs preceding it. There were no collectors for those tears. These tears did not lessen the load she carried on her soul or lighten the darkness of the moods triggered by thing people said or did to her. She believed that people are responsible for their happiness or sadness but her head did not convey fully to her heart. This is about one of those dark moments.

She woke up smiling. She was very happy to be alive; every thing was well with god's world. There was nothing to be sad about. She would clean house, get dinner started, work out for a little bit, put on a nice sari to surprise Him. May be today will be the day when she would get lucky and he would make love to her. They did not have many heart to heart talks, probably never understood each other. Love- making was the only thing that gave her a feeling of self worth. And that had been going down for quite sometime. There would be gaps of days in the beginning. Then it was weeks. Then it was months. She hated his drinking because it made him mean, say not such nice things to her, make fun of her. When he drank, sometimes the lovemaking was fantastic. She was at the top of world. Felt like a queen. Every time He drank, she did not know how to feel about it. Maybe the earth will move tonight, He won't notice the extra flab she had gathered. It worked in the beginning. Then it petered out slowly. Somehow there was not enough alcohol to encourage the feeling in Him. After a few years, she had gotten use to not being wanted. She busied herself in the job, household chores, circle of friends, children and last but not least, self-pity. Today is going to be different, she thought. She could feel it in her bones.

She called Him at work. He was curt. Why did she not have tea ready for him? He was not sure if He could put up with this nonsense any more. He was not sure He should have to. After all he was the breadwinner of the house. Even when she worked, she did not match his earning power. What was the big fuss about, he would argue. She just did not realize his worth. His coworkers knew how important He was. Women dressed so fancy just for him. Men took him out to lunch for his birthday because they just knew how important He was. Even though, He had told her repeatedly he did not believe in birthdays (certainly did not do anything for hers) he wanted to be celebrated for being the life of every party there ever was. She was so stupid. He was such a catch! And she did not appreciate him.

She was not herself or maybe she was more herself than she realized. The bubbles of excitement fizzled out. Hope, she said to herself. What was father thinking when he named her. Her mother had told her many times that after having lost couple of children, when he saw her pretty round face he said she is the hope for our future. We can live again. Let us name her Hope. Mother saw a bright future in her brown eyes. Father saw freedom from depressing times, happy days ahead for all of us and thus Hope came to be. Her life had given her anything but Hope. She was the ultimate hopeless person she could think of, when she could think. She picked herself up and started making dinner. Let us see. What should she make? They say the way to a man's heart is through his stomach. Maybe she could reach the heart and just maybe the heart could pump some blood to some other parts. She made all his favorites. She set the table. At five p.m. she was ready for him. She wore a pretty sari. Unlike other days, there was a hint of make-up. She looked in the mirror. Not bad, she thought to herself.

She sat reading a magazine when the phone rang. He was on the phone. He is running late, will be home after seven. The connection went dead. Dead. That is what she wanted to be. She could not take it anymore. This was a roller coaster that drained her emotionally so much so she could not be the charming person she wanted to be. She could not live on the scraps that were thrown her way. This is not what she wanted from life. And if she did not get what she wanted, there was not going to be a life for her anymore. She thought about the children. They will be ok. She did not matter to them when she was alive. Death would free them from feeling guilty. Her parents were already gone. She did not think any one would miss her. With heavy steps she walked toward her bedroom. The high ceiling had a fan.

He walked through the door, came to the bedroom. What is that expression on His face? Annoyance? Irritation? Hassle from the police? Inconvenience? Why could the bitch not do it in India? Let her family clean this mess. He put his briefcase down and picked up the phone.

The ambulance came. It was all over. He was standing in the corner. Had a tall drink of Dewar's in hand. No body seemed to mind. He was coping the only way he knew how, and they understood. He looked at the paramedic touching his shoulder. It took him a moment to understand what the man was asking. "Sir, May I have her name, please".

Her name was Hope.