“Patience and understanding are the weapons we use to fight for love.”
It all started with a text message which had a wink at the end. The text was not from him. It was from me. The text was like, “Itkya lavkar surrender?” This text was sent with so much confidence that I felt he will bow down easily. It was sent as a joke and as a subtle way to tease him. But it seemed that he took the words pretty seriously and decided to test me.
He went missing in action completely. No updates and nothing. The kind of silence that isn’t dramatic. However, it felt like a closed door with no note underneath it. No explanation. No read receipts to obsess over. Just quiet.
Now, I am a person who enjoys her peace and silence a lot. But that silence and peace should be somewhat predictable. This was a different ball altogether. And I was sitting over the text and my pride thinking — had I walked into this one myself? As I sat wondering what to do, I told myself, “I can handle this. I am not going to let this break me.”
So, what do you think I did? Did I cry and obsess or did I come up with solutions to beat the situation? Read on to find out more. Maybe this can help you deal with it if such a situation emerges in your life.
I thought about what a reasonable person would do if presented with such a situation.
I started my mornings with drawing of the rangolis every alternate day. The only respite I had and I knew it was kind of safe was the waft of an aroma that resembled sandalwood coming through his house. That smell kept me grounded and helped me get a good start. I must thank his mother for doing the same. This is because it kind of soothed my nerves as I moved forward with my day. I used to take in the smell and proceed to draw my rangoli with chalk on the wooden board. I knew this will help me to deal with the uncertainty that the situation threw at me. Then I watered both the houses’ plants as I knew one thing — acts of kindness release dopamine. I also made sure my body got some kind of movement. Whether it was in the form of a walk around the house or by undertaking a 30 minute abs workout, whatever movement it had to take I would do to feel good about myself. After that, I meditated as that was the only method by which I could calm my monkey mind. Then I went ahead with my day by learning something or the other like solving the crossword everyday or viewing the numbers on the screen. I knew I had to be super patient and I could not let myself surrender to stupid thoughts.
I cooked. Not because I was hungry — because my hands needed something to do that wasn’t picking up my phone. I rearranged my utensils. All of them. By size, then by frequency of use, then by some system I invented and immediately forgot. I cleaned my space until it gleamed. Then I cleaned his space too — because it needed it, and because I was there, and because what else do you do when the person you want to talk to isn’t talking?
After the work used to be done, I used to listen to music as well. This is because listening to music helps you release serotonin and dopamine. And those who are not well-versed, these are two neuro-transmitters which help you keep in a happy state.
I felt bad. I want to say that clearly — I am not made of stone. I felt the pull to just text him. To say something small and light that would break the silence without looking like I broke. To surrender, properly this time, without the wink.
But I didn’t. Not because I was angry. But because somewhere in between the rangoli and the work and his plants, I realized I was doing something important. I was staying whole. I was proving — to myself more than to him — that his silence didn’t have the power to hollow me out.
I had sent a wink. And I was going to mean it.
On day six, I heard the door.
And then I heard him — humming. Just walking in, easy, like a man who’d had a perfectly pleasant week. No explanation leading the way. No sorry waiting at the door. Just him, and a hum, and the audacity of someone completely at peace.
I wanted to pull his ears. I want to be honest about that. After six days of rangoli, playing with his doormat, clearing the common space and watering his plants while he was nowhere, my first instinct was very much to grab his ears like an exasperated grandmother and say DO YOU KNOW WHAT YOU PUT ME THROUGH.
But then I paused.
Because the hum wasn’t nothing. A Capricorn man who comes home humming isn’t a man who’s cold or distant or done. That hum was soft. It was light. It was the sound of someone who felt safe enough to just be — no armour, no explanation needed, just walking into a space that still had rangoli on the floor and watered plants by the window.
That was his surrender. Just not in a language I expected.
He couldn’t text. He couldn’t say it. But he came home humming — and somewhere in those six days I had stayed present enough, whole enough, sane enough to understand what that meant.
I sent the wink on day one. I thought I was joking.
Six days later, standing there watching him hum his way through the door, I realized I had meant it more than I knew.
And maybe in the end, I did get my fruit of patience — a soft hum as he walked towards his house.
Some people say I love you with words. Some people come home humming. The trick is staying whole long enough to hear the difference.
P.S. I still wanted to pull his ears though. I’m not a saint.
This story is based on a true incident that has been given a fictional twist.
Did you enjoy this short story? If yes, let me know in the comments section. Also, let me know if you have faced such a situation in your life — if yes, then how did you deal with it? Maybe that will help me deal in a better manner if such a situation emerges again in my life. After all, peace of mind is the best gift anyone can ask for.
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