On discovering the joys of Skype

It has been over a week since the OH left on an official tour to Delhi. Yes, again! The Delhi office of his firm is extremely short-staffed at the moment, and the OH is having to face the brunt, knowing the ins and outs of the transactions going on there thoroughly. The Delhi weather has been, infamously, bad and this trying period has taken a toll on the OH. Indirectly, it has taken a toll on me, too. The last month or so hasn’t been easy on me, with the OH only popping in home for a day or two before rushing off to Delhi again. Amma has been staying over at my place and, while that has helped, it hasn’t stopped me from feeling an ache in my heart at missing the OH.

‘I feel like an army man’s wife these days,’ I keep telling the OH. I have been unable to share the little things of my life with him, the way I used to. I have been unable to pull him to the balcony after his return from work, and ask him to just stay put with me in the refreshingly cool breeze. I have been unable to surprise him with a tub full of hot water, with salt added to it, for his feet after a tiring day at work. I miss pestering him to rub my feet on a cold morning. I miss the little treats – sometimes a strand of jasmine, sometimes a chocolate, sometimes a packet of bajjis – that he used to bring home for me every now and then. I miss having him to comment on a dish that I have made, which he would do in the most diplomatic of ways.

We used to talk on the phone whenever he found the time, or whenever we simply needed to hear each other, till last weekend. It took a friend’s innocent question – ‘Do you guys Skype when he is on tour?’ – to realise that we have never done that! I don’t know why we never really got into it, in spite of Skype being installed on both our phones! Last Saturday, we decided to try out Skype – the saviour of long-distance relationships, as we have heard many of our friends put it. And, it turned out to be a wonderful, wonderful experience.

Like kids over-excited at finding something new, the OH and I explored Skype conversations throughout the day. And the next day, too. Then, once a day, at dinner time usually, after that. He took me on a walking tour of his guesthouse in Delhi, and showed him the inside of the refrigerator there, which was pathetically empty. I made my afternoon cup of masala chai with him online once, and shared it with him virtually. He showed me the children in his guesthouse surroundings playing football in the rain on the weekend, thoroughly enjoying a rare shower in the city, a respite from the heat. I showed him how the skies in Bangalore, too, were darkening and the clouds were getting ready to pour. He showed me the kadhi chawal he had for lunch one day, and I showed him the saree I was planning to wear to a poonal ceremony in our family the next day. He made me carry my phone to the balcony, so that he could see the plants in our little home garden. He was overjoyed to see the basil he had replanted, before he left, blossoming. I was intrigued to see the sticks of meswak that he had picked up, out of curiosity, on one of his bored-weekend-street-walks in Delhi. He asked for my opinion about the bed sheet that he bought there, and I asked for his, on an amateur pencil sketch of mine. He commented that I had put on weight while he has been away, and I said that he looked darker but fresher without my constant badgering.

Since that day, Skype has become a part of our daily lives, and it has brought some much-needed cheer to both of us. We have sung songs for each other, poked fun at Amma sleeping with her blanket drawn over her face, shown each other our miss-you and happy-to-talk-to-you expressions, and what we have been having for dinner. It hasn’t been able to recreate the warmth of the OH’s hug or his smile, but it has come quite close. The past few days of Skype conversations have been reminiscent of our long-distance courtship days, if they could be called that at all, when he was in Bangalore and I was in Ahmedabad. It has been like falling in love with each other, all over again.

Thank you, Skype. You have changed a pair of stressed-out married adults into gushing teenagers, if only for a brief while every day.