HER WOES

POEM

If I mistook him for an alcoholic

it was not my fault.

Everyday, driving his car

he reached his flat in the late

hours of the night.

Each day she waited for him

without plunging into sleep

until he reached the flat

though drowsiness pushed

her to lay asleep.

Except me,

all the neighbouring flats 

sank in darkness with the occupants

diving deep into the river of deep sleep.

I do have a habit of going to sleep

very late as I did have

a lot to read and write.

On hearing his knocks on the door 

she opened the door with dark  clouds

of anger and sorrow enveloping her face. 

She couldn’t keep mum for long

though she suppressed

her anger until he

tried to cajole her with a broad smile.

She ventilated her emotions

directed against him

but he never got angry

and silently listened to

her angry outbursts.

One day she even went

to the extent of threatening

him with filing a divorce petition

if he was bent upon

reaching very late into the flat.

This was not because

he did have any extra-marital affairs.

Her faith in him was rock-solid

and was aware of his deep

love and attachment towards her.

Neither was he an alcoholic.

One night I could hear her words

piercing my ears ‘work , work and work

day to midnight without

spending some time for her and two children.

Then I could reach the conclusion that

he was not an alcoholic, but a workaholic.

May be workaholism

too is a kind of ‘disease’ like alcoholism.