Karpa Kaka

Karpa Kaka

When was the first time i felt hurt, ah yes, oh no, i dont remember. I think the first few times i turned a deaf year, created an invisible wall, wore imaginary ear plugs, cause i wouldnt let the hurt register.

But then, what was supposed to be an endearment, but clearly hurting me, had to be addressed.

Being called Karpa Kaka by the man you are newly married to, is a hard one to swallow, though no newly wed wants a fight.

Yes, i was born dark, not wheat complexioned, more dark chocalate, dark. 

It never bothered me, i was smart, a good athlete, had some great friends and was a gifted singer. 

At least until i overheard my Dad, who had been breaking his head trying to get an alliance for me.

‘ I can accept anything they (the boy’s party) says but that she is dark. ‘ My Dad gulped a constriction in his throat, as he spoke over the phone to his trusted friend.

Anyway, a suitable match soon came our way, and a knot was tied. 

Now back to the issue at hand. The thing was how not to make an issue to of it, yet address it. I certainly hated the moniker but i also was too proud to show my scars.

‘Karpa kaka, inga wa, idha paaru’. Varun was beckoning me to the lovely setting sun in the balcony, he wanted me to see the-returning birds onto the trees below our 4th floor. Birds following their circadian rhythm, just as the earth follows hers.

I squeezed next to Varun and nuzzled into the nape of his neck as he pressed his lips on my forehead.

I shut my eyes and my thoughts of addressing the hurt, simultaneously.

A little more than two decades have passed by now, our two kids were born, raised and now flown the nest to their chosen colleges. I have a cute llasa apso, Cheeku for company though, and have taken up several hobbies, fitness classes and keep myself busy.

But strange things are going on in my head. I yearn for true love, from Varun with whom now i share a comfortable companionship. 

‘Mummy, dont make lunch tomorrow, we’ll go out’ he said as shut the lights out for the night.

After many many massive fights, angry insults hurled here and there, much arguments on child rearing duties, juggling careers and interests, we had finally managed to reach a nice arrangement of mutual respect and concern. Am not sure I can call it love, for i think love must be an overwhelming feeling. It was more camaraderie. I knew there were things that Varun and i would never share, where I or he walked alone. It didnt worry me. We shared some very important things, our love for our kids, a belief in fidelity, a moral duty to do what we can for the less privileged.

These were pretty enough.

Yet there were times when i yearned for more.

Was it  the early hurts that refuse to go away? Should i now address them, though Varun no longer says anything that would hurt me.

So i shut my eyes and thoughts again and dug into my pillow to sleep.

It was a bright lovely morning, next day, i had just finished a five km walk and wore a new long frock and fixed us a simple breakfast.

Varun returned from his swim and looked at me as i slowly walked to fetch something from the kitchen.

From no where,  Varun imitated me waddling with his arms apart.

‘Morning! baby penguin’

Damn, that was it, something started boiling inside me again.

‘I cant go for lunch with you’.

‘What happened now?’ 

‘Why the hell did you just make fun of me?’

‘Arrey, i just thought you looked funny in that dress’.

‘And Uncle! It hurts!! You know i have been battling with my weight issues for decades now, the last thing i need is ridicule. Can i say something equally to you? ‘ i bursted.

‘Sure’, Varun said. ‘And it wont bother  me’.

‘Ok Mottai ambi, inmel this is what i’ll call you, vangu tiffin sappad laan’. I said derisively.

Its unbelievable how childish and foolish our fight had become.

Varun, a bit rattled by my comment, went off to his desk without having the breakfast, to flick open his laptop.

‘See how it hurts when comments are made on things that cannot be changed about our bodies, easily. Do you realise? ‘

‘You always hated me, Akshara. Why the hell did you marry me?’.

‘Why, if you are so hurt to ask me that question, can i not talk about my hurts? Years ago you used to call me Karpu kaka. I still can never forget how that hurt’.

‘So now you are taking revenge, is that it?’ Varun blowed.

‘Why do you always get defensive or attacking? This is not a war. All i am asking for is a little sensitivity to another’s feelings. ‘

‘I didn’t mean to hurt you sweetheart’.

‘But it DOES hurt.’

‘Everything i say, hurts you’

‘Why do you make blanket statements all the time? Only this hurts me, these kinds of  remarks on something that is my unchangeable reality’. 

‘Iam sorry, am really sorry for every hurt that i ever caused you, even those years ago, come here’. He turned and gathered me in his arms and drew me close to his face.

I looked up at him, feeling something very soft, very new, a tenderness, perhaps Love finally, or at least its beginnings? 

Guess even small hurts should be addressed in close relationships, even if causes a rift, its worth it, i looked at the crows on the trees and smiled at my growing wisdom! 

‘If you are going to compare me with one animal again, i wont take it lying down’.

‘Emperor Penguin?’ 

Love? Am asking too much!