Sri

It’s quite simple really. I am in love. In love with a man named Sri.

Perhaps I fell in love when he forgot my birthday and looked devastated at the realization. Or perhaps it was when he e-mailed me nonsensical rhymes in the middle of the night. Or was it the first time he surprised me with a home-cooked dinner of rassam and rice and sang ‘wish you were here’ completely off-key, on his guitar.
I cannot seem to be rid of him now. He has grown into me -- till I am unsure where I end and where he begins. I love him for not flinching at the sight of me rolling out of bed early in the morning hair standing on end, eyes puffy with sleep. I love the gentle drumming of his fingers on my ankles as I rest my feet on his lap watching TV. I love the look of delight in his eyes when I make him a cup of filter coffee. And what woman can withstand a man who voluntary fetches her a glass of cold water in the middle of a hot summer night?
And then I love him some more, because I respect him. I respect him for his integrity and his honesty. I respect him for the love and loyalty with which he cares for his parents. I respect him utterly for never disrespecting me, no matter how great the intimacy between us.
So I married him. He is my husband. I love him now just the teeniest bit extra just for that… for being my husband. Of course with kids underfoot I hardly get to spend much time with him. But we still hold hands when we go to sleep, over our slumbering children- and I love him then so deeply, for completing that circle of love.