The smell of perfume

Dilshan PERERA

Manel was preparing lunch when she heard the ringing of the phone. She hurried to the hall annoyed of this nuisance. This has happened twice yesterday, at the same time but whenever she picked up the phone there was dead silence from the other end.

“Hello, who the hell is this?” she barked at the mouthpiece. “What do you want from me?” she demanded. There was a pause then, a voice came into life. It spoke in a serene yet in a mocked tone full of sympathy. “Mrs. Ranathunge, you ought to know what your husband is up to; he has been very naughty these days” came the voice of an unknown person with a tone full of sarcasm. “Who is this? Are you trying to play the fool with me?” she shouted angrily. “Calm down, madam. Don’t worry. I don’t mean to hurt you” said he in a tone of utmost compassion. “Take me as a good friend who really wants to help you.” Manel found it very uneasy to carry on with this conversation.

“Look if you call me again I will call the police” she threatened him. There was a silence for a split second and then he spoke again. “If you call the police all the dark secrets of your husband will be disclosed; don’t let the cat come out of the bag!” There came a giggle that reeked havoc in her mind.

“Ok. Just spit it out, how do you know my husband?” she asked. “It doesn’t matter madam, what really matters is your husband’s behaviour.” “What do you mean?” she asked puzzled. “Your husband is running around with another woman. He is with her right now right in front of my eyes at a shopping mall.”

“This is ridiculous!” she screamed in disbelief. “My husband is the most loyal husband in the whole world. I can swear it anywhere!” she retorted. “Well, well.

How pathetic! You don’t have to believe what I say, but believe what you see.” “What do you mean by what I see?” Manel asked agitated. The voice laughed heartily before going dead. She slammed the phone angrily. He will never do such a thing, she said to herself reassuringly.

In the evening Namal returned home with his son. He has brought him home from swimming practice. He was a managing director of an esteemed

organization. He possessed good looks and was blessed with an attractive personality. The evening was spent uneventful. Manel was deeply absorbed in her personal thoughts throughout dinner. When she was asked what is wrong with her, she said that she was suffering from a headache.

That night she wanted to do the laundry that has piled up. She took her husband’s clothes to the bathroom in order to put them into the washing machine.

Before that she emptied his trouser pockets. His handkerchief fell out. A strong yet a sweet smell emanated from it. The fragrance gave her nostrils a tingling sensation. Yes, she can recognize that smell very well.

It took her back 10 years into the past, to her courting period.

He looked extremely handsome and so elegant in a full black kit. There was something in his hands. It was a parcel, wrapped neatly. She took it childishly, feeling rather shy. It was the first gift presented by her lover. It was a bottle of perfume, an expensive one with the sweet smell of jasmine.

She ran all the way to their bedroom struck by a sudden wave of realization. Her heart was beating faster, as if it could explode at any moment. Namal was sound asleep, probably dreaming. She looked at him in disgust then, and searched for his wallet. There she found the clue. The clue she dreaded so much.

There was a piece of paper, a bill for Rs. 2500 spent on a bottle of perfume. So it’s true he has been cheating on her. She can’t remember receiving such a gift from her husband in the past. Yet he would not hesitate to buy a gift so expensive to this “other woman”. She couldn’t bear the irony of his choosing the same gift that she has been given 10 years ago.

Manel stared at her sleeping husband in disgust. Her eyes were full of rage. Tears rolled down her cheeks uncontrollably. She has never cried like this in her life before.

She wanted to kill him. Strangle him with her own hands, squeezing the breath out of his filthy body. Just then he awoke from his slumber. Namal saw his wife in tears. He was puzzled. “Manel what’s wrong? Why are you crying?” He got up looking worried. “I have a terrible headache I didn’t want to wake you up.” She lied looking the other way. He approached her and gently rubbed the sides of her forehead. His touch burned her skin. ‘What a good actor he is’ she thought, biting her lips. I will catch him red handed, till then I will grin and bear. She thought bitterly.

The next day she woke up early. Sleep never came to her during that dreadful night. She prepared breakfast as usual. Before going away, Namal kissed her forehead lovingly.

She bit her lips in suppressed anger. She anticipated the phone call from her unknown informant, to know more about her husband’s treachery. But no one called. Tired of waiting, she fell asleep on the couch.

She was woken up in surprise. She stood up startled. Standing before her, were her husband and son. They looked cheery. There was a cake with candles on it. “Happy birthday darling!” came the boyish greeting of her husband. She couldn’t believe her own eyes. How could she forget her own birthday! Both of them, he and her son wished her in glee. Namal presented her with a gift neatly packed. She tore it open that very instant, like a small child. There it was, the bottle of perfume. The smell of jasmine pricked her nostrils once again.

Life

Have you ever watched pillow clouds glide through the sky
Or how each little drop of dew glistens on the grass
How raindrops splash and fireflies glow and lightening flashes past
How moonlight glides so stealthily, through your window pane
And the wind leads leaves in waltzes, all around the streets?

Have you ever watched and wondered how a green caterpillar
Could ever grow into, so beautiful a being?
How rainbows seem to skim the sky, but never know an end
Or how birds know just when to spread their wings and sing
How tadpoles learn to swim and dive and then learn to jump
Have you ever stopped and listened to how the world silently passes by?

By Su Kasturirathne