Abhi,
I'm a very messy person by nature. You didn't know that before. You thought I was calm, gentle, and quiet. Didn't you?
Actually, I'm only calm when I read situations and people. I'm not gentle at all. And you know exactly how quiet I am! Ha ha ha... Nothing matches what you expected when you came close, does it?
Listen, is love some kind of math problem that has to add up? You can't even match your time with the clock hands, you take forever in the shower; and that thing I hate most—cigarettes—is your favorite! But Abhi, when I learned all this, I never wanted to leave you!
If someone I love comes home after committing murder, could I punish them by not feeding them, leaving them hungry? I couldn't, Abhi. A murderer should be punished, absolutely should be. But the law and courts will punish the murder. Surely starving someone isn't the punishment for a crime as grave as murder! At least that's what I believe.
Just like that, if someone is restless by nature and talkative, you surely wouldn't throw them out of your life as punishment, would you? Maybe the person is only like that in front of you. Couldn't that be possible, Abhi? Listen, if you love someone, you can forgive even a murderer, and you can't bear this little bit of my restlessness?
Without even realizing it, we've traveled a long road together, spent so much time on the raft of joys and sorrows. Now I understand that what might have seemed like just passing time to you—those tiny little things—their sum total is my life! The things you can laugh off and dismiss, I can't lighten my heart even by crying over them! This must be what they call the difference between a woman's and a man's love.
In my thirty-one years, I haven't seen two people as organized as you. Even when you'd remove my bangles to hold my hand properly, I'd watch how beautifully you'd arrange them in matching pairs!
Even now, when I close my eyes, I can see that day so clearly. Oh, that very day...
Never mind, let it be. I don't want to remember all that so late at night—my head is already pounding.
And those letters of yours, written in such pure Bengali! Who knew so much love could spill from someone's writing! Ah...!
You've surely organized your life by now, haven't you? Yes, that's what you should do!
But look, organizing life is something for much later—even my day-night routine is all jumbled! I've put tea on the stove at one-thirty in the morning. What's the point of not sleeping on time? What would I do waking up early anyway! I've withdrawn into myself these days. I too am disappearing behind tea and nicotine... when you wanted to make me bloom! Oh, time!
In front of me is that turquoise silk sari and the large stone-set earrings we bought together at the fair. I'm thinking of wearing them right now.
No, never mind, tears are coming to my eyes. I talk to myself alone like a child!
Let it be, I'll just throw the tea away! I have to get up in the morning anyway.
This competition of pretending to be fine—I enrolled in it right after birth. Even if I wanted to, there's no way back now. You know, nobody wins these competitions, not a single person. They just show off and keep thinking like gamblers that tomorrow I'll win! But that tomorrow will never come!