“Do you really think marriage is necessary, Bhaskar?” asked Srikant.

“Well, it must be—millions get married, don’t they? If you’re unmarried, society treats you like some strange beast from the wild,” Bhaskar replied.

“You’re not wrong. Once upon a time, marriage was created to ensure the growth of the human race. But that need doesn’t exist anymore, does it? In some European countries, more and more young people have stopped marrying altogether,” said Srikant.

But if people stop marrying, won’t everyone end up utterly alone? No sons, no daughters, no grandchildren. Who’ll be there in our old age?

“Assuming your children will look after you is just an illusion. Don’t we see how often parents are packed off to old-age homes? And in the coming years, there’ll be even more of them. We’ve reached a point where parents are seen as dead weight,” said Bhaskar.

“So what are you really saying? That people shouldn’t marry at all?” asked Srikant.

“As soon as you marry, you lose half your freedom. You become bound to someone else. For any marriage to work, both people need to know how to adjust. But that quality—compromise—it’s disappearing, especially in this generation. You’ve noticed it too, haven’t you? Divorce rates are rising in our country—faster than ever. I’ve got a friend who’s a judge in the family court. He says every day, there’s a flood of divorce cases. He’s convinced India is going the way of America. Divorce is especially common among highly educated couples. Some split up within five or six months of getting married.”

“But why’s this happening in a country like ours, where traditions still run deep?” asked Bhaskar.

“You’re right, Bhaskar... but our society’s changing faster than we realise. Women are now pursuing higher education in large numbers. They’ve got good jobs, they earn well, and they’re demanding equal rights—and getting them. Today’s women aren’t submissive like in the old days. But men don’t seem to understand what’s changed. They still expect their wives to serve them, to be docile and accommodating. They don’t respect the new sense of independence women have. Because of that, the give-and-take that used to hold marriages together is vanishing. Now it’s all about winning—‘I must have the last word.’ That attitude’s taken over. And once compromise disappears, things start to fall apart. That, I think, is the real reason divorce has become so common. If you’re willing to listen, I’ll tell you a story. After hearing it, you’ll understand just how deep the gap between men and women has grown.”

“Go on, Srikant,” said Bhaskar.

“The people in this story—I know them all. Every one of them is a good person. And yet, things turned out as they did. I want you to think hard about why that happened. I’ll try to tell it the way a writer would,” said Srikant.

~*~

“Why isn’t he back yet?” wondered Dedipya, glancing at the clock on the wall.

It was past eight. Avinash usually came home from the office by six. But today—of all days—he hadn’t. It was her birthday. He knew that. It was the first one since they got married. She’d suggested they go out—maybe a fancy dinner, somewhere nice, something a bit grand.

But he had said no.

“Home is heaven enough, isn’t it?” he’d replied.

She’d said they could just invite a few close friends. No one else.

Shireesha, Pratima, and Suvarna had all arrived around six. His mates Manoj and Praveen had come earlier. Everyone was waiting for Avinash.

Just then, the doorbell rang.

As soon as she realised Avinash had arrived, Dedipya nearly ran to the door and flung it open.

“Hi, my dear Dedipya!” he said, moving in for a hug.

Behind him stood a young man holding a large birthday cake.

“You’re this late? I’m not speaking to you,” Dedipya said, stepping back as though she were angry. She wasn’t, not really—but she wanted him to think so.

“This majestic cake is what delayed me, my dear honey,” Avinash said, turning to the boy. “Put it over there, on that table, will you?”

The boy set the cake down on the wide, decorated table and left without a word.

“Hey, Praveen! Hey, Manoj!” Avinash greeted his friends with a grin.

Then, turning toward hers, he said, “Hello, Shireesha, Pratima, Suvarna!”

Dedipya looked radiant—she was glowing like a full moon in her deep maroon silk saree.

“Whoever named you must’ve had a moment of clairvoyance—you really are shining tonight, Dedipya,” said Shireesha.

“Fantastic! A vision like you doesn’t belong in our ordinary world. You’re straight out of some celestial realm,” Avinash declared.

“You’re lucky, Avinash. Women like Dedipya don’t just appear in a man’s life—only the truly blessed get that kind of fortune,” said Shireesha.

“Maybe it’s the other way around,” said Praveen. “Maybe it’s her good karma that landed her someone like our Avinash—a handsome man, soft-spoken, and kind.”

Everyone laughed.

“Exactly. Avinash has it all—he’s good-looking, he’s got a solid job, and at such a young age, he’s already bought a gorgeous, well-furnished flat. He’s the very definition of decency.”

Before Praveen could go on, Shireesha cut in. “And Dedipya’s no less. She’s got all of that too.”

“That’s why they’re a perfect match,” said Pratima. “They say marriages are made in heaven—heaven must’ve brought them together.”

“Well said, Pratima garu,” said Manoj. “Beautifully put.”

“Enough with the poetry,” said Avinash, laughing. “Let’s move on to the next bit.”

Everyone gathered around the elegantly decorated table where the cake sat, its candles flickering gently.

The usual rituals followed—cake cutting, a cheerful chorus of “Happy Birthday,” clapping, sparklers shooting into the air, and a shower of petals falling gently over the couple.

Afterwards, they all settled down to eat. The food had been specially ordered from a well-known restaurant in Hyderabad.

As they were sitting down, Praveen leaned over and whispered, “So it’s all ‘dry’ stuff, eh? Nothing ‘wet’—drinks, I mean?”

“The ladies wouldn’t have it, mate,” said Manoj. “Tonight, we’ll just have to go without drinks.”

“I had my hopes up for a bit of Johnnie Walker or maybe some Chivas Regal,” said Praveen.

“We can sort that out some other time, can’t we?” Avinash replied.

As he said this, he glanced at Dedipya. There was a flicker of displeasure across her face—just a trace, but unmistakable.

Everyone finished their meal with light chatter and warm laughter. By the time they were done, it was nearly ten o’clock.

“We shouldn’t be the third wheel between you two any longer,” said Praveen as they all stood to leave. “We’ll be off now. Good night—and may it be a very, very happy one.”

They were alone at last. The bedroom shimmered like a palace in a dream. The moment they stepped inside, Avinash reached for her, wrapping his arms around her.

She slipped away and asked softly, “Why were you so late tonight?”

“I told you, darling—it was the cake. That’s what took time. Are you upset because I was late?”

“No, not because you were late. Because you lied,” she said, moving further from him.

“I lied?”

“Yes. I called the cake shop at six. They told me the cake was already ready.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake!” Avinash said. “You’re taking his word over mine? He’s the one lying. They always say that. But the truth is, he didn’t even start the cake until I got there. When I asked why he’d said it was ready, he told me, ‘We wanted it to be fresh, sir. So we waited till you arrived.’”

“Then why didn’t you go there at six?”

“My officer didn’t leave till half-past seven. None of us were allowed to leave before that.”

“I see… I’m sorry, dear. I thought you’d lied to me,” she said, stepping into his embrace.

“Would I ever lie to you, my darling Urvashi?” he said, holding her close.

“Wait—who’s this Urvashi, now?” she asked.

“You. You are Urvashi—the celestial maiden who’s descended to earth just for me.”

“You’re impossible. Always talking like a poet,” she said, resting her head on his chest. “It’s that poetry that won me over, you know.”

“No, you’re the one who won me over—with your beauty, with your heart.”

“That’s enough now… Oh, and earlier—your friend, the one talking about ‘dry’ and ‘wet’… What was that about? You even promised him something.”

Avinash burst out laughing.

“Oh... that? That was just a joke, my dear,” said Avinash.

“I’ve told you once before—I can’t stand people who drink. Don’t you remember?”

“I remember, my dear. No one’s drinking now, are they?”

“Not just now—you shouldn’t go near alcohol at all. Ever.”

“Alright, alright.”

“Promise?”

“Promise! Will you show me some mercy now, goddess?”

“I’ve always been merciful. Have I ever turned you away?” she said, wrapping her arms around him.

“It’s your birthday today. You should be just as you were the day you were born.”

“You’ve got quite the appetite for wishes,” she said, moving closer to him.

~*~

Both of them worked as software engineers. She was with one multinational, he with another. Every morning they’d be up and ready by nine, heading off to their respective offices. By seven in the evening, they’d be back home. Saturdays and Sundays were for themselves—short trips to nearby resorts, a night’s stay, a bit of fun. That’s how the first three months passed.

One day, when Dedipya returned home, she found Avinash’s parents sitting in the living room. Avinash was with them.

“When did you get here, Aunty?” she asked the moment she saw them.

“Just now, around four. I rang Avinash, and he came to pick us up,” said her mother-in-law.

“I see,” said Dedipya.

“Our health’s not been great, dear. His father has developed cataracts—they’ll need to be removed with surgery,” said the older woman.

“That’s right,” said her father-in-law. “Both eyes. I showed them to a local specialist in Bhongir—he said the cataracts are advanced and need to be operated on straight away. I rang Avinash and he told us to come here. Said he knows a good eye surgeon in the city. So we set off immediately.”

“Yes, Dedipya,” said Avinash. “You know Sandeep, don’t you? The eye specialist near Tarnaka. I got an appointment with him yesterday. He’s scheduled the surgery for Friday. But he wants to run a few tests tomorrow.”

“Alright,” she said, and went quietly into their bedroom.

They had a housemaid who handled all the chores. After dinner, Avinash’s parents retired to the guest room they’d been given. Dedipya and Avinash finished their meal and went to their room.

“This isn’t right,” she said once the door was shut.

“What isn’t right?” asked Avinash.

“You didn’t tell me they were coming. You didn’t say anything about their cataract surgeries either. That’s what’s not right.”

“I meant to,” said Avinash. “But the past few days you’ve been coming home really late from work. You looked so worn out. I thought I’d tell you later—when you weren’t so tired.”

“That’s not it. You didn’t tell me because you didn’t want to. You were worried how I’d react. You thought I’d be upset. But I’m not the sort of person who resents her in-laws.”

“Who said you were? I just didn’t get the chance. Don’t turn this into something bigger than it is, Dedipya. Please.”

“Have I made a scene? Or are you trying to say I’m throwing a tantrum?”

“I didn’t say that. Please don’t twist my words.”

“Who’s twisting whose words? You or me?”

“Alright, alright. I misunderstood. I’m sorry, Dedipya. I truly am.”

“No need to apologise over something so small,” she said, wrapping herself tightly in the blanket and sinking into silence.

That night, she didn’t come near him.

~*~

A week later, Avinash’s father had cataract surgery on his left eye. The drops, which had to be administered ten or twelve times a day, were handled by Avinash’s mother.

“The doctor says we’ll do the right eye in another two months,” she told them.

“You can stay here until then,” Avinash had said to his parents.

A month passed.

One day, Dedipya said, “Instead of staying here for two months, couldn’t they go back to Bhongir for a while?”

“Is their being here causing you some kind of problem?” Avinash asked.

“I wouldn’t call it a problem. But they’ve got a nice house in Bhongir. Your father’s got farmland. What are they going to do with their time here? At least back there, people drop in for a chat, they have things to do. Here, your mum’s bored—and she’s taking it out on me.”

“She’s boring you, is she? That’s a surprise.”

“I’m not saying anything against her. But lately, the moment I walk in from work, she starts with the questions—‘What do you actually do at the office?’ ‘How many people work there?’ ‘Are they all women?’ ‘Are there men as well?’ ‘How much do you earn?’ ‘How much does Avinash earn?’ ‘Do your parents ever visit?’ ‘If they come, how long do they stay?’ She goes on and on. And your dad—he’s always got the TV on full blast. I can’t stand high volume. Even after the surgery, I told him, ‘Uncle, you shouldn’t be watching TV for at least ten more days’—but he wouldn’t listen.”

“Oh, so these are your problems. Instead of just saying you want them gone, you’re listing all this?”

“I’m not saying I want them gone. I’m saying they’re not comfortable here. I think they’d be much more at ease at home.”

“No, what you mean is—you’d be more at ease if they were back in Bhongir.”

“You’ve completely misread me. In your eyes, I’ve turned into some kind of villain.”

“I never said that. I’m the villain—for bringing my parents here and dumping them on your head.”

“Dumped them on my head? What exactly have I done to them? The maid looks after everything. Why are you being so harsh with me? Lately, no matter what I say, you get angry. It feels like you’ve grown sick of me.”

“Please—shut up. I’ve never felt anything but love for you. Don’t just blurt out whatever comes to mind.”

“Oh, so now I’m just blurting out nonsense?” she said, tears starting to well up.

“Please—don’t cry. I’m sorry,” he said, pulling her close.

After a while, the argument quietened down.

~*~

Two months later, Avinash’s parents returned to their hometown. He drove them back and dropped them off at their house.

Another two months passed.

Every morning, Avinash and Dedipya would leave together in their car. He would drop her off at her office and then head to his. But gradually, a thought began to take shape in Dedipya’s mind—I’m depending on him too much. She didn’t like that feeling. She’d already learnt to drive. So she decided she wanted a car of her own.

“I’m thinking of buying a car,” she told Avinash one evening.

“A car for you and a car for me? That’s just unnecessary,” he replied.

They argued for quite some time over it.

“I know how you men think—that a woman should always depend on her husband. You don’t like the idea of me driving myself to work, being independent. That’s it, isn’t it?” she said.

“It’s not that I don’t like you being independent. I just think it’s a waste of money. That’s my opinion. But go on—do what you like,” said Avinash.

She applied for a bank loan and bought the car.

Now, half an hour after Avinash left for his office, Dedipya would drive herself to hers.

On her way to work lived a colleague of hers—Vinod Kumar. He took the city bus to office every day. When he found out she was driving her own car, he said, “You could give me a lift, couldn’t you?”

“Why not? You’re right on the way. Just be ready by nine, and I’ll pick you up,” she replied.

From that day on, Vinod began commuting to work with Dedipya. When Avinash found out, it upset him deeply.

“Why are you giving him lifts in your car? I don’t like it,” he said.

“That’s exactly the problem, isn’t it?” she snapped. “A man can wander around with as many women as he likes, and no one bats an eye. But the moment a woman so much as becomes friends with another man, you lot can’t handle it. You get eaten up with jealousy. I thought you were more open-minded.”

“If you thought that, you were wrong. Just drop it, will you?”

“Drop it? I don’t understand how those words even came out of your mouth. I’m simply shocked.”

Avinash didn’t say another word.

“Vinod’s a good man. He’s become a close friend. That’s all it is—friendship. Don’t go imagining anything else,” she said.

“And why would you think I’d imagine something more?”

“Because that’s how you men are, aren’t you? You can have as many female friends as you like—but the moment a woman gets close to a man, you start spinning stories.”

“You’ve clearly done your research on the male psyche. How many men have you studied, exactly?”

“You only need one grain of rice to know whether the whole pot’s cooked.”

“There’s no point arguing with you. I’d be wasting my breath.”

That was the end of it.

They stopped talking to each other. They went about their lives like strangers, getting ready in silence and heading off to work without a word.

One morning, as Avinash was driving to the office, a young woman stepped up to his car at a bus stop. She was strikingly beautiful.

“Lift, please,” she said, tapping on the window.

Avinash slowed down and rolled it down.

“I need to get to my office near Hitech City—urgently. My boss asked me to be in at nine sharp. I’m running late.”

“I’m heading that way. Hop in,” he said.

As soon as she got into the passenger seat, he had a strange feeling he’d seen her before—somewhere, sometime.

They introduced themselves. Names, workplaces. He soon realised they were from the same hometown. Their fathers had been close friends, it turned out. After that day, he began picking her up regularly and dropping her off at her office.

Not long after, Manoj—one of Avinash’s colleagues—ran into Dedipya.

“Your Greek hero has found himself a Helen,” he said with a smirk. “He gives her a lift every morning. They’ve become quite the pair. And it’s not just the office—they’re going all over the place together. If you don’t act soon, you’ll lose him.”

“What do you mean, ‘act’?” Dedipya asked.

“Up to you,” Manoj said, and walked away.

Manoj and Avinash had once been close friends. But something had gone sour between them recently. Dedipya had heard as much.

She realised now—this was retaliation. He’d found out about her driving Vinod to work, and this was his way of getting back. She hadn’t spoken properly to Avinash in weeks. They didn’t even share the same bed anymore. So this was revenge.

A thought crept into her mind, quiet but insistent—He’s craving a woman’s touch. I’ve denied him that. Maybe he’s getting it from someone else now.

That evening, when he got home, she found him sitting in the drawing room, drinking coffee. He looked cheerful.

“Good news, Dedipya!” he said, beaming.

It startled her. It had been so long since he had spoken to her with anything like warmth.

She looked at him, puzzled.

“That project report I submitted last week—they loved it at our head office in the States. They’ve picked it as the best report of the quarter. I’m getting a gold medal for it.”

She said nothing.

“Not even a ‘congrats’?”

Still silence.

“So that’s it—you don’t like seeing me succeed. You’re jealous. You can’t stand that I’m moving ahead of you. You know what? You’re the proof of what they say—‘Woman, thy name is jealousy.’”

“I’m not jealous. You are. I became friends with Vinod, and in your jealousy, you went off and found another woman. Let’s be honest—how far has your relationship with her gone?”

“It’s gone as far as you think it has. Maybe farther,” he said, biting down hard on the words.

“So you’re saying what you’ve done is fine, but what I’ve done is wrong?”

“Ask your own conscience what you’ve been up to. I told you not to drive that man around. I told you there was no need for two cars. Did you listen? You tossed my words aside like dry grass.”

“Just because I’m your wife doesn’t mean I have to obey every word you say. I told you that before we even got married. And just because I’m friends with a man, does that mean I deserve this kind of suspicion? What should I imagine—that I’ve been sleeping with him? Is that what you’ve convinced yourself of?”

She stood up, her voice shaking.

“Disgusting. Disgusting. Men like you make me sick.”

“I’m sick of your entire breed,” Avinash said. “Just because I’m friends with a woman, you assume I’m sleeping with her, don’t you?”

Her heart sank. Her eyes welled up—tears spilled down her cheeks before she could stop them.

“Oh, here you go—crying again. That’s how you lot win, isn’t it? Tears. Always weaponising your tears. It’s the only weapon you women know how to use.”

She wiped her face and stood up slowly. “I’m not crying to manipulate you. I’m crying because I can’t believe I ever loved someone like you.”

“Then remember this,” he said, stepping back, voice cold. “The person in front of you is wondering the same thing.”

Then he walked out.

For a few days after that, the fighting stopped. Neither one of them said anything cruel. They even seemed to grow a little closer again. Around that time, Dedipya’s parents came to stay for a week.

During that week, the two of them shared the same bed again. Things looked like they were mending. A month went by.

Then one day, there was a big meeting at Avinash’s office. They held a ceremony to honour him for the gold medal he had received for his project report. After the event, a few of his colleagues crowded around him, shouting, “Party! Come on, you owe us!” He couldn’t say no. They all went to a bar together. He made sure everyone was well looked after. Under pressure, he ended up having two pegs of whisky himself.

It was ten by the time he got home. Dedipya was on the sofa, watching some Hindi serial on TV.

The moment he stepped inside, he said, “Hello, my dear Dedipya! Guess what—today my colleagues gave me a grand felicitation. Look at these gifts—see the garlands, this silk shawl. They actually wanted to invite you too... but I told them you’re not into that sort of thing. Darling, I’m happy today. Extremely happy. And I want to share that happiness with you.”

He walked over to her, beaming.

The tone of his voice, his looseness—it set off a warning bell in her mind. When he got closer, the smell hit her full on. Whisky.

He took her hands, turned off the TV, and said, “Come on, darling. Let’s celebrate too. I want to forget everything tonight—just be with you. I’ve never hated you, darling. I only ever loved you.”

He went to pull her into an embrace.

“What’s this sudden outpouring of love? Have you been drinking?” she asked, stepping away from him.

“Yes, I’ve had a drink. Just two pegs. And only because my friends insisted. Is that such a crime?”

“I told you long ago—I can’t stand people who drink. You promised me you wouldn’t.”

“I did. So what? Let’s forget the past, darling. From today, let’s go back to the way we were when we first fell in love. Please, darling. Don’t start a fight just because I had a drink.”

“I’m not starting a fight. You are.”

“Me? What fight am I starting, darling?”

“Just leave me alone, please. Go to bed. Don’t make a scene.”

“You want me to go to bed alone? Leave you here? What nonsense is this? I came home wanting to spend the evening with you—and now you’re telling me to go off by myself? That’s not happening, darling. Let’s go together.”

“No. I can’t stand the smell. Please, just go.”

“I won’t. I’m not going anywhere. Is this what I’ve become to you—someone to brush aside? But that Vinod fellow—he’s the one you’ve grown close to, isn’t he? And I’m the one being pushed away.”

“Stop talking rubbish. Just go to bed. Don’t pester me.”

“I’m pestering you? Is that what you call it? A husband trying to be close to his wife—and she ignores him like he’s nothing? No decent woman would treat her husband like this. Only a dirty bitch would behave the way you’re behaving.”

“Watch your tongue,” she said, her voice rising. “You dare call me that? You male chauvinist pig!”

“A pig, am I?” he shouted. “You’re calling me a pig now? How bloody arrogant!”

And then he slapped her. Hard. As hard as he could.

Tears streamed from her eyes. “You’re a bloody sadist,” she said, choking on the words.

The very next moment, she walked out of the house.

He tried to stop her.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. I shouldn’t have laid a hand on you. I’m sorry. I swear—please forgive me. It won’t happen again.”

She didn’t respond to a single word he said. Didn’t listen. Didn’t even look back.

A few minutes later, she took her car and drove off—to a friend’s house nearby.

~*~

Her side of the family tried everything. So did his. Both sets of elders made every effort to bring them back together. There were meetings, long discussions. People tried talking to her—gently, firmly, reasonably. Nothing worked. She wouldn’t budge.

He, on the other hand, said, “If she comes back, I’ll welcome her. I’ll treat her with love.”

Then one day, Avinash got a phone call from the Cyberabad Police Station. It was the Circle Inspector.

“Your wife has filed a case of domestic violence against you. You’ll need to come to the station by 5 p.m. today,” the officer said.

“Alright,” said Avinash. He hung up.

The case dragged on.

They were both sent for counselling.

It made no difference. Nothing changed.

Eventually, the domestic violence complaint turned into a divorce petition. When Avinash agreed to pay 20 lakh rupees as alimony, the court granted them a mutual divorce.

*          *          *

“That’s the story, Bhaskar. So—who do you think was in the wrong?” asked Srikant.

“I don’t know… to me, it feels like Dedipya was the one who went too far,” said Bhaskar.

“No one was entirely right or wrong. The real problem was their egos. That’s what destroyed everything. By the way, do you know who Avinash really is?”

Bhaskar put on a thoughtful face, pretending to mull it over.

“That Avinash… was me, Bhaskar,” said Srikant.

“Ah,” Bhaskar said, his face caught between surprise and speechlessness.

~*~

“Parallel Lines” (titled “Samantara Rekhalu” in Telugu) by Ampasayya Naveen was first published in Swathi (Monthly Magazine) in December 2021.

Telugu Original by Ampasayya Naveen
Translated into English by Rajeshwar Mittapalli