The early days of success felt a bit like an addiction. Arindam's new cabin, the shiny nameplate on the door that proudly read 'Operations Head'—it all felt quite grand. On the other side of things, my inbox was practically bursting with emails from top-tier research institutes. The phone notifications just wouldn't stop.
But behind all these glittering achievements, a gray wall had quietly started to rise. We've given it a name: 'The Hustle.'
Those Robotic Mornings and Heavy NightsThere was a time when our mornings started with a shared cup of tea and a bit of playful bickering over the newspaper. But now? Arindam has to be out the door before it's even seven. A big title brings a thousand tangled files and the weight of a whole team's expectations. As for me, I'd get so sucked into my laptop screen that I couldn't even tell you how many times my breakfast sat in the corner of the table, turning cold and hard as a rock.
Ishan and Aarav are quite grown up now. They don't say much out loud, but when you look into their eyes, you feel that sharp pinch in your chest. Last Tuesday evening, Ishan was sitting in the living room with his report card. I was hopelessly stuck in a nasty Zoom meeting. When Arindam finally got back, it was 9:00 PM. You could see the exhaustion of the whole world in his eyes.
Slumping onto the sofa, Arindam asked softly, "Hey Ishan, did the results come out?"
Ishan just handed over the card and said, "Yeah Dad. Straight A-pluses."
Arindam took a quick glance and said, "Wow, that's amazing! Bharsha, did you hear? Ishan did great."
Without even looking away from my laptop, I said dismissively, "Yeah, I saw. Good job. Ishan, there are chocolates in the cupboard, go have some."
Ishan didn't say a word. He didn't even reach for the chocolates. He just tiptoed back to his room and clicked the door shut. In that moment, he probably didn't want an expensive chocolate; he just wanted ten minutes of our time.
When the Crack grew WiderIt was a few days later. The four of us were sitting at the dinner table, but the room was eerily silent. Arindam was pushing rice around his plate with his fingers, but his mind was clearly stuck in some office file. I was back to checking emails on my phone.
Suddenly, Arindam looked up. "Bharsha, when was the last time we talked about something other than the office? Do you even remember?"
I snapped back, annoyed, "Is this really the time to talk about this? I have a massive conference coming up, do you have any idea how much work is left?"
Arindam's voice turned a bit bitter. "Everyone works, Bharsha. I am too. But a home isn't an office. Have you looked at the kids lately? They're disappearing into their own shells."
I slammed my phone onto the table. My temper was at its peak. "Am I doing all this for fun? This new city, the kids' expensive school, your high-profile job—do you think these things just fall from the sky? We have to grind for it!"
The argument might have turned even uglier, but Arindam suddenly went quiet. I realized then that we weren't actually angry at each other; we were just incredibly, bone-deep tired. And that fatigue was creating a mile-long distance between us.
An Old Diary and a Flickering MemoryThe next morning, after Arindam left, I was tidying up the closet and stumbled upon an old diary. It was from our very early days together. As I flipped the pages, a brittle, dried rose petal fell out.
In one spot, in my own handwriting, it said: "Arindam promised that even if we become the richest people on earth, we will still listen to at least one song together every single day."
As I finished reading that, my heart just sank. In the haze of success, had we really forgotten the simplest of promises? I looked around the living room—expensive sofas, beautiful curtains, everything was spotless. But the house had no 'soul.'
I thought to myself, What's the point of all these research papers and promotions if, at the end of the day, the smiles on my favorite people's faces are gone?
A Little Homecoming on a Rainy DaySaturday afternoon brought a sudden, heavy downpour. In this new city, the rain has a strange way of hitting you. Arindam had a half-day today. When he walked in, he found the whole house dark.
"Bharsha? Is anyone even home?" he called out, sounding a bit confused.
Right then, the melody of our favorite old song started drifting from the corner of the living room. I walked out from behind the curtain, holding two mugs of steaming tea and some hot snacks.
Arindam froze. "What's going on? Is today something special?"
I smiled a little. "Today is 'Our' day. I sent the kids to their friends' house. Today, it's just the two of us."
Arindam washed up and sat on the balcony. I had locked my phone and laptop in the other room. Raindrops were splashing onto the balcony floor, and the two of us just sat there, side by side—just like we used to back in that tiny rented house in our old city.
Coming Back to 'Us'"Arindam, I'm sorry," I said in a very low voice.
Arindam gripped my hand tightly. "You don't have to say sorry. We both just lost our way for a bit."
I shook my head. "No. I was so caught up in being 'successful' that I forgot you were the one who built the ladder. If you hadn't held the fort, I'd still be hidden behind the smoke of the kitchen. Arindam, let's not let success turn 'us' into two different people."
Arindam laughed. "And if I didn't get that spark from you, I'd have been crushed by office politics a long time ago. Bharsha, winning isn't just about a title; winning is being able to have this cup of tea in peace at the end of the day."
We didn't talk about work or the office that day. We talked about our childhood, the kids' mischief, and plans for our next vacation.
When the Home felt Full againThe kids were stunned when they got back that evening. They saw their Mom and Dad sitting on the floor, playing Ludo and laughing. Aarav shrieked with joy, "Mom! You're not reading books today?"
I pulled him into a hug. "No, baby. From now on, evenings are just for you guys. The laptop will be fast asleep by then."
Ishan leaned his head against his father's shoulder. Arindam probably realized right then that the value of these tiny moments was worth way more than any multi-million dollar office deal.
The Final WordIt was quite late at night. After the rain, the city felt pure, almost sacred. Standing on the balcony, the two of us looked up at the sky.
Arindam said, "I don't know what the coming days will be like. Maybe the hustle will come back, the pressure might rise again."
I rested my head on his shoulder. "Let it come. But now we know when to hit the brakes. As long as we have this connection between us, there's nothing to fear."