Navigating Relationships: Smita’s Story of Love and Resilience

Smita and I work in the same office. I joined about 7–8 months ago, and Smita has been working there for the past 2 years.

I got the cubicle next to hers and settled in. The HR came and introduced me to everyone in the office and explained the nature of the work.

Accounting work is the same everywhere, with only minor tax differences. I listened, understood, and started working. Smita had a darkish complexion but had a well-toned body, maybe she is practising yoga or regular exercise. Otherwise, she was sharp and attractive.

“Do you have any stapler pins?” she asked, standing behind me. I think that was my third or fourth day at the office. Suddenly, someone called me informally and that too, a girl, took me by surprise. I quickly composed myself and replied, “I’m new here, and I’m sorry, I currently don’t have any stationery.” I said it all in one breath.

She made a “Pchch” sound by joining her lips and walking away.

The next day, she brought a stapler, pins, glue, and scissors. “Keep these. Here, no one gives anything without asking,” she said and disappeared again. Since I was new, I didn’t have much work, so I pretended to read something.

While doing this, I often tried looking at Smita, but she was always engrossed in her system.

That afternoon, she asked, “Do you bring lunch or eat at the canteen?” again addressing me informally. “I’m going to the canteen. Will you come?” I replied that I was a bachelor and had no one to cook for me. [Honestly, there was no need to give such a detailed explanation; a simple yes or no would have sufficed.]

She didn’t pay much attention to my response and gathered our group, including Somesh, Shila, and Karthik, and headed towards the canteen. During lunch, I got to know everyone a bit. Many young people mostly bachelors worked at the office.

From that day onwards, our friendship gradually grew stronger. We started meeting regularly at the canteen, tea, snacks, and occasionally a movie on Saturdays.

Smita helped me with many things. Having been there for two years, she knew how to get things done. As a result, I went to her for even small matters. Initially, I needed her help, but later, I kept going intentionally. But she helped everyone without any bias.

Now, I have been there for six or seven months. We had casual conversations in the canteen, but I didn’t know much about Smita or her family. I knew she was older than me, though.

Sometimes, we both went for tea. At the end of the month, we often stayed late at the office. She used to get bored. I felt good, as most people had left by then. Only the two of us were in our cubicles, and the boss was in his cabin.

After finishing work, we walked from Churchgate to VT Station. Our friendship seemed to have deepened by then. I had started addressing her more informally. From Smita ji to just Smita.

Sometimes, we would buy snacks from a vendor near Flora Fountain and eat while walking. Despite all this, I didn’t know much about her or her family.

I tried to get some information from other colleagues but didn’t want to raise suspicion, so I didn’t push too much.

One day, we were walking after staying late at the office. By then, we had developed a good bond. I casually asked, “Who are there in your family?”

Before crossing the road, we both looked left and right and then stepped onto the footpath. Perhaps she understood the intent of my question. She looked at me, and as the response got delayed, I changed the subject. “The heat has increased a lot, hasn’t it? And the rain is also nowhere in sight.”

Upon reaching VT Station, her train was towards the Central line and mine towards Harbour. “Bye,” I said.

She looked at me and said, “I’m divorced, Shri,” and walked away.

I was stunned, frozen. I watched her leave and just stood there. In the crowded VT Station, someone pushed me, saying, “If you have nowhere to go, why stand in between?”

I got out of my trance and boarded the Panvel slow train. Despite the peak-hour crowd, I felt alone. Her age must be around 26–27, and she had gone through marriage and divorce already. My mind started thinking differently, and I felt disgusted with myself for having such thoughts.

As the train crossed Vashi Bridge, the water in the creek merged with the darkness, erasing the boundary between the night sky, water and land.

I got off at Panvel and avoided rushing for a rickshaw. Today, I decided to walk. My thoughts wouldn’t stop, and I was irritated by how serious I was about this.

The next day, I went to the office cautiously, wondering how to face Smita. She was already seated as usual. The day passed like any other, but I avoided bringing up the topic of her family again.

After that day, our conversations felt formal. She understood this, and so did I. I resisted the urge to go deeper.

Finally, the heat ended, and the monsoon arrived in Mumbai, bringing a refreshing chill. and that also brought the chaos it caused in local train services. The unwritten rule of Mumbai’s monsoon and delayed local trains.

We both left the office, but our usual 7:27 PM Panvel and 7:16 PM Kalyan trains often didn’t arrive on time. In the crowded VT Station, we sometimes looked at each other and used to ask, “What now?”

Kurla Station was flooded, and due to technical issues, all the following trains were delayed. Smita called home, assuring them that she was with me and not to worry.

It was 9 PM, and now it was drizzling, but there were no signs of the “technical fault” being fixed. Even the taxi drivers outside were charging exorbitant fares, and even with that, there was no escape from the traffic.

We thought it was better to wait for a while. After leaving the office, the umbrellas we carried only kept our heads dry, while our clothes and everything else got soaked.

I asked Smita if she wanted to eat something. Both of us had only lunch. She quickly agreed, and we went to a small hotel near VT. It was also crowded there. After a while, we managed to get a table and immediately occupied it.

Only snack options were available. I ordered Misal Pav, and she ordered Masala Dosa. With no other option, we sat there leisurely.

The rain had stopped outside, but it started raining inside my mind. Despite the crowd and rush into the hotel, there was a strange silence. I felt it even more.

During such times, no topics come to mind, and whatever you say feels like nonsense. My phone rang, and I felt relieved, as it gave me an excuse to pass the time. It was my father’s call.

“Aren’t you coming this week? We’ve scheduled Sunday for the guests,” he reminded me. It clicked in my mind; it was a matchmaking event.

The girl was a B.Com graduate and working in Mumbai. I had seen her photo before, and she was beautiful, but I hadn’t given any response.

From my conversation, Smita got the idea that I had to go to my hometown. I hung up the phone and engaged myself in eating Misal. I explained that I was going home for the weekend for a matchmaking event.

At such times, for some reason, words just spill out of your mouth, and seldom I able to keep things to myself.

I will be back to work on Monday. I kept explaining this even though she hadn’t asked anything. She listened and responded with a simple “Oh!” and returned to eating.

Sometimes, it’s hard to understand her nature. She never shows any emotions and is always neutral. Then I thought, maybe what’s going on in my mind isn’t the same in hers, so why would she inquire?

After a while, we returned to the station. The crowd was still there, but there was an announcement that the locals had resumed services. I felt relieved. I went to drop her off at her platform. As she sat in the ladies’ compartment, she looked through the window and said, “You should leave now.” I left.

After reaching home, I freshened up and lay on the bed. It was very late, but I couldn’t fall asleep. I turned on the FM and listened to songs. At such times, the soothing songs on FM provide a special kind of comfort.

“Tune jo na kaha main woh sunta raha, Khaamakha, bewajah khwab bunta raha Jaane kiski humein lag gayi hai nazar, Is shehar mein na apna thikana raha Door chahat se main apni chalta raha, Khaamakha, bewajah khwab bunta raha”

As if on request, the song from the movie “New York” played. My situation in this city was exactly like the hero’s. The next day, back to the office. Smita, as usual.

“Today I’ll leave early.” “Yes, you have to go home,” — Smita. During lunch in the canteen, a couple of colleagues mentioned, “It’s a matchmaking event.” I didn’t know how to respond and chose to ignore it. After lunch, I left.

I boarded the train and kept thinking about how tough the next two days would be. I had told my family that the girl also lived in Mumbai, and we could meet here, but they insisted that we hadn’t become city guys like Pune-Mumbaikars yet. They wanted us to meet back home.

“What are your expectations?” Meena asked me. Meena was really beautiful. I replied that I didn’t have any special expectations and asked her if she had any. “Nothing in particular,” she replied.

I just wanted to finish everything and get back on the return train.

“Where do you stay in Mumbai?” Meena asked. “Panvel,” I replied. “I stay in Kharghar with some friends. We share a flat,” she said. I was tired of the conversation. “Shall we meet in Mumbai?” Meena asked. I said, “We’ll see.”

Since she was the daughter of my uncle’s friend, my family had already considered this proposal. I thought of telling her that I wasn’t serious and that they should look for another match, but I thought it wasn’t right to say it directly.

I told my mother that I didn’t want to get married right now and asked her to inform the girl’s family. I boarded the train and eagerly awaited to reach the office. Our mind is a mystery, and despite understanding everything, not expressing it is another equation.

Just then, my phone rang. It was my mother. “The girl’s family liked you, and the proposal is good. Why are you saying no?”

“I’m not thinking about marriage right now,” I replied.

“Both of you are in Mumbai, so meet again and then decide,” she said. I agreed just to buy some time and went to sleep.

The next morning, I reached the office early. After a while, Smita arrived, and I felt a sense of calm seeing her. “Early today,” she remarked. “Yes, the train was on time,” I replied. “Shall we go for tea? I haven’t had breakfast,” I asked. After settling in, she got up and said, “Let’s go.”

There were still only a few people in the office. In the canteen, I ordered tea and a sandwich, while she had the upma she had brought from home. “From today, we will be late for the next week,” I said, using the month-end as an excuse to start a conversation. She nodded in agreement without saying anything.

Being someone who usually can’t keep things to myself, I felt a burden for not telling Smita about the matchmaking event.

Finally, in the evening, while leaving the office, I told her. “I had a matchmaking event back home, but I informed them that I wasn’t interested,” I added the last sentence deliberately.

“Why? Didn’t you like the girl?” Smita asked. “Oh my, she spoke,” I thought to myself.

“It’s not that. I feel it’s too early. I need some time to settle in Mumbai, and I don’t think I can manage a marriage right now.”

The next day, I received a call from an unknown number. It was Meena. I stepped away from my desk to talk. “Shri, my family told me you weren’t interested, but my father insisted we meet in person. Can we meet after work tomorrow at Kharghar station? Is that okay?” she asked in one breath.

I said yes, just to say something, and got back to work. The next day, we met outside Kharghar station. We went to a coffee shop, and she brought up the topic. “My mother said you weren’t interested. Then my father said we should meet in person, so I called yesterday.”

I explained to her that the refusal was because “I need some time to settle here, and I’m thinking of waiting. It’s nothing against you.” She immediately said, “I’m willing to wait. My family likes this proposal a lot, and they really want it.”

“But I can’t manage it right now.”

“This is a very personal question, but I’ll ask anyway. If you have someone else in mind, please let me know. I’ll step back voluntarily. I want my life partner to be mine alone.”

Girls are so straightforward; I liked that. Why can’t I speak up like that? Why can’t I muster that courage?

“It’s nothing like that,” I said.

Trust me, even if we are not destined to be lifelong partners, I would like to be a true friend.

Saying this made me feel relieved. This tangle in my mind needed to be shared with someone, but there had to be someone willing to listen. I had never shared my feelings and thoughts about Smita with anyone.

After Meena spoke those words, I felt like I could confide in her. So I did, I told her everything.

Meena listened patiently and started speaking like an ‘expert on the subject.’

All you have learned about her so far is that she is divorced. You have feelings for her, but you haven’t taken the initiative because of her reserved nature and to maintain your friendship.

If you want to move forward, you need to talk to her and understand what’s on her mind. You need to make sure she feels the same way as you do.

Who knows, she might still be stuck in her past. She’s divorced, not a widow, so you need to understand the reason for her separation from her husband. Waiting and doing nothing is not the right approach.

Meena was speaking as if giving a lecture. I listened intently like a student.

You need to speak to her, clearly and directly.

Shri… Shri, are you listening? She shook my shoulder a couple of times and asked.

I thought to myself, when will I attain this level of maturity in my thoughts? My mind felt much lighter.

I thanked her and said we’d meet again soon, and then I left.

“Keep me updated; remember, we are friends now.”, said Meena.

The next day, we left late again. I had decided to speak up today.

As soon as we stepped out of the office, I said to Smita, “I need to talk to you, Smita. Will you give me some time today?”

She (perhaps sensing what was on my mind) agreed and we started walking.

Smita, I have been emotionally involved with you for the past few days, and I feel we should move forward. I have no issues with anything, not even with your being divorced.

I have genuine love for you in my heart and will try to keep you happy in every way possible. I want to know what’s on your mind, and your decision will be final for me.

She didn’t show any surprise or hesitation. Perhaps she already knew what was on my mind.

“Shri,” she began, “Do you think I don’t understand your turmoil? Every time you tried to know more about me, I knew what was going on in your mind.”

Shri, I’ve experienced everything. I wasn’t always like this. I was like a carefree butterfly, eager to conquer the world after college. My family never restricted me from anything.

While I was exploring the world, I became friends with Suhas. I worked as a guide in a travel company because I wanted to travel the world. Suhas was a manager there. He came from a good family background and took the job because he found his father’s business boring.

Those were the fun days. We travelled a lot with groups of tourists, and we enjoyed it a lot. After some time, Suhas proposed to me. I was just 22–23 years old. I had never thought about it and felt there was a lot more to achieve in life.

Suhas asked me to take my time, but my perspective towards him started changing. Eventually, I told my family. My father said, ‘You’re too young, this is just infatuation,’ but they agreed reluctantly.

Suhas was very loving, and I became more attached to him. We got married, and it felt like I needed nothing more in life.

For some time, everything was like a dream. Suhas’s father asked him to take over the family business, and he started focusing on it seriously.

One day, he suddenly asked me to quit my job. I was shocked and told my mother. She said, ‘That’s fine; why work outside when you have everything at home?’ I reluctantly quit my job.

The honeymoon phase was over. Suhas got very busy with his work, and I understood that. But I had to wait for even a few moments of his time. The family atmosphere was such that business responsibilities came first, and I silently observed.

Sometimes he stayed abroad for months, and there was no intimacy left between us. I went to my parent’s place for a few days, and during those 10–12 days, he didn’t call even once. My parents noticed my internal struggle.

I returned to my in-laws’ place. One day, I confronted Suhas, but he brushed it off, saying, “What nonsense are you talking about?” After that, he avoided me for various reasons. I was breaking down internally.

Then I found out something that was hard to believe. Suhas had affairs with many women at his office. One girl came home and created a scene, revealing everything. Many women like me had come and gone in his life. But neither he nor his family cared.

When I confronted Suhas about it, his response shattered me. He said, “This is how I am. You’re just one of them, and I had to pretend to get married to get you. This will remain the same, so tell me what you think and don’t bother me.”

I was devastated. I couldn’t understand what was happening to me. I got up and made up my mind to take an extreme step. In Mumbai, it doesn’t take much effort to do so. I started walking, lost in my thoughts, ready to throw myself into the vast sea, but a thought about the little life inside me stopped me.

Yes, I found out a few days ago that I was pregnant. I wanted to tell Suhas, but this incident happened before I could. I went back home, determined to live for this child. I thought telling Suhas might change him, but it was a futile hope. ‘Abort it,’ he said, which made me not to stay in that house any longer.

My parents were shocked. In a middle-class family, such an incident with their only daughter was humiliating. My mother was devastated, but my father supported me. We went through the divorce proceedings and separated.

A few days later, “Dhairya [Courageous]” came into my life. Yes, that’s my daughter’s name — Dhairya. Now, looking at her, I manage to get through life. She is my only support in this lonely life.

And yes, you are a kind-hearted person. Getting a life partner like you is a blessing. But Shri, I think we should let go of this idea.

Smita, but I am ready to accept you with all your memories and Dhairya. Trust me.

Shri, I know that, but my heart can never give you the love you deserve. That part of my love is gone forever.

A river never looks back after leaving its source. Many streams join the small flow, making it vast before merging into the sea, but its identity and source never change. Suhas left me, and we will never be together again, but my identity will always be tied to him. Even though we are apart, I can never erase him from my heart.

Don’t insist on what is impossible, Shri. Let’s go now. Saying this, she started to leave.

As she left, she said, Let’s remain good friends, and today’s conversation will not change our friendship. I will make sure of it and hope you will too.

We both left. In life, the anticipation of getting something remains until we get it. But once we realize it’s not meant for us, our mind accepts it.

I understood that Smita was a dream for me, and after today’s meeting, it was clear that it would remain a dream.

“See you at the office tomorrow,” she said as she left. Everything felt overwhelming. The burden of all this was too much, and I felt a strong urge to share my feelings with someone.

I called Meena, as she was my only hope to lighten the burden on my mind. “Can we meet? I have a lot to talk about.”

“At this late hour?” Meena said. It was 11 PM. I had lost track of time in my thoughts.

But Meena said she would come with a friend for a while.

She came, and I narrated every single word of my conversation with Smita. While doing this, I couldn’t hold back my tears. I let them flow, and it felt like a weight was lifted off my mind.

Finally, I told Meena, I’m telling you all this as a friend, and I don’t intend to suggest anything through it.

Shri, I had told you I want my life partner to be mine alone, but if you don’t mind, I’m still willing.

But Meena, it doesn’t feel right to choose you just because Smita isn’t an option.

I’ve listened to you and seen your tears. The one line that stands out from your conversation with Smita is, “Finding a life partner like you is a blessing.” I’ll wait for you.

Saying this, she left.

Shri returned home. The next morning, he informed his family that he had agreed to the proposal.