CHOOSE TO LIVE : AGAIN

Choose to Live : Again

By Sanjay Shharma

Raj woke up at 4 AM, like every day. The house was silent, but his thoughts were loud. He glanced at Meera, still fast asleep, her face turned away.

Years ago, she would stir at his slightest movement, mumble something sweet, maybe reach out for his hand.

Now, she barely noticed.

He sat up ; wincing, as a sharp pain shot through his heel.He hated this pain. Some mornings, he needed to hold on to the bed or the wall just to steady himself before walking. Some evenings, he needed Meera’s support—but he rarely asked.

"Pehle toh ek baar haath pakad leti thi," he thought bitterly.

A deep frustration churned inside him. Was this what remained of their marriage? Just routines? Just this forced companionship , where one wanted more, and the other was too indifferent to care?

He clenched his fists.

For the first time in his life, he felt the urge to shake up Meera, to make her see what she was doing to him. To make her feel the rejection he had swallowed every single night. But he didn’t.

Instead, he stood up, grabbed his towel, and walked to the bathroom.The cold water on his face did little to cool the fire inside.

"Jis din yeh gussa phootega na, us din sab kuch khatam ho jayega," he thought grimly.

By the time Meera entered the kitchen, Raj was already drinking his tea.

She rubbed her temples and muttered, “Subah subah mujhse baat mat karo, abhi mujhe puja karni hai.”

Raj’s jaw tightened.

"Puja? Mera mood poora kharaab kar diya, ab bhagwan ko manayegi?"

He slammed his cup on the table.

Meera flinched. "Ab kya ho gaya?"

Raj exhaled sharply. "

Kuch nahi."

That was the day he decided— he was done; done trying, done hoping.

And this was Raj—the man everyone admired. He was the pillar of the family, the one everyone turned to for advice, for comfort, for guidance. Relatives, neighbors, friends—all had endless praise for him.

"Raj bhaiya toh sabka khayal rakhte hain."

"Bade knowledgeable hain, unse pooch lo, har cheez ka jawab milega."

"Raj toh ekdum ideal pati aur pita hai."

And Meera ! She was no less. Elegant, graceful, always well put together—whether in her crisp cotton sarees or her subtle, classy taste in everything. People adored her. She was the epitome of the perfect Indian woman.

"Meera bhabhi toh kamaal hain!"

"Kitna sunder sense of decor hai, waise hi khaane ka bhi taste top-class hai!"

"Bacchon ki toh kitni achi training ki hai."

Together, they were the ‘perfect couple’—envied, admired, and often held as an example. And yet… within their own home, within their own bedroom, they were drifting apart. They lived in unspoken tension, unmet needs, unaddressed hurt.

Meera had menopause. The mood swings, the hot flashes, the fatigue—Raj had read about it, had even tried to be patient in the beginning. But patience wears thin when it is one-sided. He had seen her struggle with sleep, with unexpected anger, with the exhaustion that no amount of rest could cure.

She had changed—not just physically but emotionally. The woman who once teased him, stole a bite from his plate, and laughed heartily at his jokes now seemed perpetually tired, irritable, detached.

Raj sympathized with her, but no one ever spoke about how it affected him.

Menopause was acknowledged. Women had books, doctors, discussions, support groups.

But what about him?

Raj had his own battle—one no one even acknowledged.

Men never spoke about andropause. They never admitted that their bodies changed too. The energy dips, the loss of strength, the fading libido. The once-fiery desire now just a flicker, struggling to stay alive.

A man was supposed to be strong, capable, unchanging. He was supposed to be the protector, the provider, the rock.

So, what happened when he felt weak? When his own body betrayed him? When his emotions spiraled into confusion, frustration, even despair?

No one asked.

No one cared.

And so, he stayed silent.

For the first time in his life, Raj felt invisible.

Days passed. Raj stopped talking. No morning greetings, no attempts for affection. He didn’t even look at her properly anymore.

Meera noticed. At first, she thought it was temporary. But then, one night, she reached out in bed, her fingers brushing against his arm.

For the first time in their marriage, Raj moved away.

Meera’s heart sank.

She lay awake, staring at the ceiling, realizing how much had changed.

That night, something shifted inside her.

She had spent so much time pushing him away, she never realized how much she needed his touch too. Not just sex—the warmth of his hand, the weight of his arms around her, the quiet reassurances that they still belonged to each other.

A few days later, Raj met his old friend Manish over chai. Manish’s wife, Sunita, had always been strict about food - no ghee, no salt, only healthy, boiled meals. Manish had struggled with knee pain for some time and despite all the so-called ‘healthy’ habits, his strength was slipping away.

"Yeh sab chal raha hai?" Manish asked, noticing the irritation on Raj’s face.

Raj sighed. "Samajh nahi aata yaar… Meera bilkul alag ho gayi hai. Na pyaar, na baat, na hassi. Sab khatam ho gaya."

Manish stirred his chai. "Aur tu? Khatam ho gaya hai ya jeena chhod diya hai?"

Raj frowned.

"Meri bhi yehi halat thi," Manish admitted. "Umar badhne ke saath sharir thakne lagta hai, dukhne lagta hai. Par Sunita ne mujhe samjha. Pehle sirf cholesterol ki padi thi, par phir dekha ki zindagi se hi maza chala gaya tha."

Raj leaned forward. "Phir?"

"Phir kya? Teri hi di hui advice pe Sunita ne mere liye sab badal diya—ghee waale aloo ke parantha, thoda aur swad, thodi Ayurvedic maalish, aur dheere dheere dard bhi chala gaya. Aaj dekh—wahi main hoon, par bilkul naya mehsoos karta hoon."

Raj smirked. "Acha? Mera diya gyaan Sunita ne maana, aur Meera ke paas dene jao toh lecture milta hai!"

Manish chuckled. "Sab auratein alag hoti hain, par mard ek jaise hi rote hain!"

That evening, Raj came home feeling different. He didn’t say anything to Meera, but his silence was heavier than usual.

And then, something unexpected happened.

That night, Raj didn’t wake up at 4 AM.

Meera found him in bed, his face pale, his forehead burning.

"Raj ! Aankhein kholo!"

He barely moved.

Tears stung her eyes. Was this what she had done? Had she drained all life out of him?

Meera sat beside him, stroking his forehead, guilt and fear crushing her.

"Kya yahi chaha tha maine!"

For years, she had told herself, “Is umar mein koi saath ki iccha hoti hai?”

Even her friends had agreed.

"Arre Meera, is umr mein yeh sab jaroori hai kya?"

But today, seeing Raj weak, distant, slipping away, the truth hit her like a slap.

Husband wife ka saath sharir ka milan nahi hota. It was mann ka bhi milan.

It was the thread that kept them together.

It wasn’t about lust. It was about belonging.

And the more she had pushed Raj away, the more she had lost him.

That evening, when Raj finally sat up, he smelled something unexpected.

Aaj khaane mein special hai," she said casually.

Raj wasn’t expecting much—probably another bland meal in the name of health. But as soon as he sat down, the aroma hit him.

Gobhi Manchurian. Dry, crispy, just the way he had loved it in college.

He looked at her, surprised.

"Kha lo" Meera said softly.

Raj hesitated, then took a bite. The flavors burst in his mouth, bringing back memories of carefree days, laughter, and long conversations over street food.

Meera hesitated. Then, softly—"Mujhe laga tha ki sirf pet aur weight kam rakhna zaroori hai. Par main bhool gayi ki jeene ka maza bhi zaroori hai."

Raj stared at her.

She hesitated again, then reached for his hand.

That night, when Raj lied down to sleep, Meera turned towards him.

For the first time in years, she placed a hand on his chest.

Raj looked at her, surprised.

Meera held her breath.

"Shayad yehi umar hai jab pati-patni ko sabse zyada ek dusre ki zaroorat hoti hai."

Raj smiled faintly and covered her hand with his own.

For the first time in years, they slept close.

For the first time in years, they felt like husband and wife again.

The next morning, as Raj finished his tea, Meera placed cuddled him from behind.

"Raj, chal na kahin ghoomne chalte hain. Pahad ya beach... jaise pehle jaate the."

Raj raised an eyebrow. "Kya baat hai? Itni romantic kabse ho gayi?"

Meera rolled her eyes, but she was smiling.

"Bas… lagta hai abhi bhi jeena baaki hai."

Raj reached for her hand. This time, she didn’t pull away. She squeezed his fingers instead, holding on.

Yes. Life was still waiting for them.

And this time, they chose to live it together, again.

About the Author

SanjayShharma (@teatimeworks) is an engineer, management graduate, and second-generation entrepreneur with over 35 years of experience. He has built products, markets, teams, and institutions while staying deeply connected to Indian culture and community development.

His writing reflects his passion for human relationships, societal dynamics, and personal growth. Through real-life stories and insights, he aims to help people live better, more fulfilling lives.For feedback or collaboration, he can be reached at sanjay@gepco.in.