Snipping a Relationship

It was the first thing she reached out for in the morning. No, that's not accurate. She did reach out for the health faucet, the toothbrush, the tap etc. first thing before she entered the kitchen. But on entering the kitchen... ok, that was the third thing. But it was part of the kitchen routine and the first set of things. The milk cooker, the milk packet and the scissors. It was such a silly thing to think about, but those scissors were always associated with the milk packet. Though she cut coriander with that and other grocery items that came packed in plastic covers, still, its primary and daily duty was to cut the milk packet.

And now they had decided to move away from the packet milk. Not the right kind for her, it seems. Her skin had been erupting into rashes and the doctor she consulted told her that the toned milk she was having was responsible for that. "Take only cow's milk and buttermilk. No curd," the doctor prescribed, much to her dismay. Curd was her favourite. She could make a meal of it. To not include it even as a part of the meal was like denying her the breath. She found a man who kept cows and delivered milk, to be collected in a vessel like in the olden days.

She picked up the scissors to snip coriander and felt as if it seemed a little forlorn and unwanted. Gone was the morning ritual and the need to reach out to this tool. It would be like any other tool in the kitchen henceforth, needed once in a while along with the other implements. It did not occupy the prime position anymore and would not be sought with the same eagerness as it was when snipping the corner of the milk packet. She wondered if it missed the milk packet, the daily morning routine. She felt for its fall in position. 

It should have made her laugh, but strangely, it reminded her of her own life. From the time she was born to the day she went to the hostel, her father's first job on waking up, even before performing his morning ablutions, was to check on her. That would be his last task for the day as well.

In the hostel, there were some close friends who would be with her from morning to night, but nobody needed her like a morning dose of coffee. Her father did. Sometimes he brought his coffee to her room at home and they chatted before getting into other activities.

After marriage, things had changed. She was not as important as the cofee or the newspaper or even the mobile phone. She was needed for making the coffee, but since he was capable of making a perfectly good coffee himself, her absence didn't matter as much to him.  Not in that sense, strictly. He loved her and all that... But it was not how her father needed to see her.

The first year she was in the hostel, he used to call her often, at odd hours, with nothing to say. But she had been so short with him, a little irritable, a little self-conscious. She smiled to herself. Just out of her teens and into adulthood, she had wanted to seem independent and thought him clingy. But now, with a husband who was too engrossed with work and other preoccupations, she really missed her dad. She had cured him of the habit of calling her often, and after her marriage, her mother had also discouraged him from calling often. She wished she hadn't. That feeling of being wanted and loved...

She looked back at the scissors and touched it with care and sympathy. Her husband walked into the kitchen. "You know what, I am very uncomfortable with that man pouring milk in a vessel. He dips that thing every time in with all the germs in his his hands and what not. My colleague told me about this app where they deliver packed milk," he said and placed an order before she could react. "Settle that man," he said and went back to the dining room to pursue his usual morning activities.

She rolled her eyes and did the difficult job of informing the milkman that evening.

Next morning, the bottles were placed at their doorstep and she brought them into the kitchen. As she was about to unscrew the top, she noticed a plastic sheet sealing the lid. With her heart pulsating, she reached out for the scissors.