I treaded along the edge of the field. A rocky path separated the greens from the stones. People jogged along the perimeter, sneakers on their legs, track pants and sweatshirts. A group of elderly ladies started a brisk walk-more the momentum, more the gossip. They huffed and puffed after ten minutes, took a break for twenty. One drank an energy drink, shared it with two others. Couples secluded some corner benches. Hands entwined, they whispered and giggled, like when we were teenagers and discovering the laws of nature. The time when each bump on a person's body would be a world by itself. I checked my watch-6.15, it read. A middle-aged gentleman practised pranayama, hummed like a bee opening his eyes each time a young girl ran past, breasts bouncing. The sun had come out mightier than yesterday, fifteen or twenty more minutes and its rays would engulf the field making any activity tiresome. I sat on a sequestered patch of green, denying the opportunity of a budding romance. A boy and a girl loitered around eying the same, mumbled and went away with a dejected look. Sometimes taunting is fun.

I took out my pen and diary, words transformed into sentences, danced on solitary pages. They mirrored my smile as I recollected events of yester weak. Siddhartha's confession stormed my understanding of him-a catastrophe that unleashed havoc. It was like the waves during a tsunami that floods life away, yet a single blade of grass claims its existence-creation within chaos. I pondered on the days that followed. How he waited at the gate before leaving. I had no idea why he did what he did until it became a natural progression. I would pack his tiffin and walk him till the parkway, he at the front and me behind. We wouldn't talk, no goodbyes or a lone wave. He would just turn around, a single glance and then drive away.

Days back I took him to the front yard, at the corner where I shared stories each morning, where I giggled like a young school girl from the past. This plot which lay naked months before exploded with life. Two zinnia's-one yellow and another red, smiled bright. They cried in loneliness, only had themselves, so I brought companions-unnamed, unidentified ones, those by the roadside who needed shelter. I observed how he stood still, brooding, as if whispering dark secrets from yesteryears.

"What are you looking at?" I couldn't help ask.

He didn't answer, squatted and caressed the petals. "Baba", he only said.

All these months we had but one presence-silence, rather an emptiness wherein profound tenebrosity, no hope or love existed. Until..until..the cat came out of the bag. I would be lying if I said we communicated better, understood each other but, unlike previous times, we made terms with this silence. It had an aspect of peace, a tinge of it, a very tiny bit of mutual understanding where we needn't just share the bed and body but also the space within.

Yet, unanswered questions piled up, one on top of the other. And as time passed, the need to know became more and more severe.

Was Mister Kaur the only reason behind Siddhartha's strained relationship with his mother? What did the Chatterjee's hide? And above all, who killed my father-in-law?

I headed home where chores awaited, the clock fast approached seven. Mamoni's mornings started with hysteria, she would scream and see blind till I stepped inside. No matter the number of times she rationalised her concern, it left a bitter aftertaste. Her odd intrusiveness spiked my fury. "I was a disgrace, never living up to her expectations. Until.." I remembered Siddhartha say. Which mother could do that to her child-I wondered.

"Don't you know I worry a lot?" she rushed into the porch, hands on her chest-an exaggeration. In reality, she feared the truth.

"Why is that?" I asked.

"You have never been to the city! You hardly know its ways, there is danger out there!"

"Sometimes the danger is more inside than outside, Mamoni." And you're well aware of it.

"What do you mean?"

"Whatever you want to assume, you know better."

"Sreya, I'm a very impatient person. Do not test me." She raised her forefinger, as if disciplining a child hiding candies.

"I'm stating facts. You already have the answer and your response confirms it."

Mamoni stared in disbelief. The same expression I had when she asked for dowry. Often shock disables you, more so when the source is questionable. This woman considered herself the matriarch. "I'm the woman of the house, everything happens as per my wish." She boasted with confidence, enjoyed her position. Rank does not confer privilege or power. It imposes responsibility. If only she was a little responsible, things could be different.

I ceased to argue-a practised habit. Practice makes it perfect-they say. Mamoni stormed towards the kitchen, she knifed the carrots and attacked the chopping board with the vigour of a murderer. Two and a half months in this household and I was used to her tantrum. Fragile people hide behind fabricated personas-acts of self-defence. Hers wasn't anything new, like Ma quoted-"Arrogance is the camouflage of insecurity."

This woman needs to be shown her place.

Upstairs an alarm rang, the beats thundered throughout the house; Siddhartha's weekend eight o clock reminder. Fifteen minutes later, he plopped down the stairs and sat on the sofa. I put the water to boil and added tea leaves, he would ask for a cup within five minutes. "Please, make it creamy", he would request. I placed three Marie biscuits and a mug full of the aromatic concoction, he nodded-an acknowledgement. Did I spot a smile? Probably not, he was a man of sombre demeanour. Mamoni's expression changed from wrathful to murderous, she eyed me from top to bottom, slicing with sharpness-the typical 'you dare steal my son' look.

I heard she prided on her masala tea, though I never tasted, not even once; the smell overwhelmed my nostrils. These days Siddhartha seemed to prefer my version-full-fat milk but light on whole spices. Often he asked for simple liquors in the evening. I treasured this feeling. Need makes you feel wanted, gives life a purpose.

And amidst all this drama, time ticked. Hours went and days turned to nights. Nobody spoke about the incident. Siddhartha and Mamoni communicated as if nothing happened. None of the people who were present that day called or bothered to enquire. If I met any on the streets or the local grocery store, they would laugh or beam or talk nonsense. They never asked how I coped or if at all I could. Denial is easy, it equips you to handle things you know you can't handle.

Yet, I considered these normal. Conditioning indeed leaves a footprint. It's a double-edged sword, one that makes you a believer-strong but ignorant.

We ate lunch together. Ladles and spatulas clinked against the glass top. Siddhartha slurped on chaas. The sizzle of freshly fried fritters piqued his interest and he snatched five at a go.

Mamoni swept a side-eye. "Since when did Babin become a fan of crispies?"
Since a couple of weeks ago.

Two amazing women can love the same incredible man in different ways-it's said. There's nothing wrong about this quote, just that the words 'amazing' and 'incredible' stood out like a sore thumb. For, none of us embodied that quality and the most important thing missing was love.

Yet, I persisted; even felt it could work. At home, I heard Ma often ask, "shall I cook fish head with cabbage today? Or will you prefer it with dal?"

"Whatever you wish. I like both." Baba would answer. "You never know what a woman wants, so stick to the middle", he used to chuckle.

Still, Ma nudged, badgered him into obliging. "Men's ego is fragile, feed it sometimes. Make them feel important." She said. Back then, it lacked meaning, going against my feminist principles. But now, these small gestures spoke of love. I tried to practise, weave Ma's magic charm. There was hope.

We finished food in silence. No stories, no table talks. Back at Swarupnagar, lunch and dinner would be a chore in itself. Amongst all the fights, laughter and yells we bonded and connected. And now when I sat on my chair with all the others-alone, these beautiful memories gave company. At least, I believed so.

Three messages arrived in quick succession.

Ping! Ping! Ping!

Siddhartha rushed with his phone upstairs, like a school girl whose boyfriend called. The door slammed shut a minute after. "Office issues maybe", Mamoni pacified. I knew otherwise.

Seventy-five days into the marriage I felt we could arrive at a destination. Nameless it might be, still, I thought it headed somewhere. The fault was mine-I felt. These people personified solitary living to the fullest, they laughed in the company of outsiders, sulked in each others presence.

"You judge too much too early. Look at people as they're. Try to not arrive at conclusions, we human beings are constantly evolving"-Baba advised. I tried. Like the petals of an onion, I peeled off a layer of him last week.

"Ma's feelings weren't known..if only I-" Siddhartha had stopped. I gazed at his eyes, tears lining the corner.

Have they always been this dark?

"There's nothing you could have done", I had said.

"No..in absence of Baba I should've..yet, Ma had to step up. She literally whored herself to that bastard!" he had swallowed the annoyance. I dared not fathom the embarrassment, how much it damaged his self-esteem, sense of worth.

"She had a choice, she didn't make it. You had none. It's nowhere close to your fault. Mister Kaur's a scoundrel!"

He had smiled-a very fatigued one. It almost mocked his statement. "False assurance is more harmful than giving none at all, Sreya."

"If it makes somebody happy and strong, why not do it for once?" I had said.

"If only you knew everything.." he had sighed. Right, if only I know everything.

That day I sensed defeat, his male ego hung low and for the first time, I witnessed vulnerability. It was gratifying to be a confidant. The person who came off as apathetic, unresponsive had a troubled soul. Just like me. And I reached out. After months as an outcast, the feeling of inclusion satisfied my greedy heart. It gave my presence an importance, a boost.

But, I wronged, mistook-again.

The conflict whined around my ears, the voices buzzed; I tip-toed up the stairs, towards our bedroom. The door featured a minute opening, I squinted and his moving figure zoomed into view. I leaned against the dark mahogany, ears on alert. Hushed voice came-stifled and indistinct.

He's on phone.

"Don't disturb again. Let me be..no..I won't be going..no-" he paced. "I...I cannot any more..I'm fine here..I won't go."

The ambiguity in his words raised concern. There was more to this family than what met the eye. There was more to this person than he let me believe.

I pushed the door ajar. "And may I know where and why my husband isn't going?"

He stilled. I advanced, securing the lock tight. "Don't tell me you again have to rush for a pending work. It's not believable enough."

"It-it's Varun.." he turned, flashed a nervous grin. "Varun, my close colleague..is getting engaged. He called to invite but I said I'm not goin-"

"Tell him I will. And you'll accompany me."

Siddhartha's eyes flickered-an instant panic, a sudden flash of anxiety. He coughed and covered with a smile. "Sure, I will."

"No, you'll forget. Here, Let me." I reached out. He stepped aside.

So, you're hiding.

"He has already disconnected."

"Really? Then dial again and tell your missus wants to speak."

"Sreya, you must be jesting. Varun doesn't even know you!"

"And now he will!"

"No, it isn't neces-"

Frustrated, I hurled myself at the phone. On instinct, he pulled back.

A grunt and a squeal. One moment we were fighting over a single call and the next, we flopped right on the mattress, sprawling all over each other-faces inches apart. The phone jumped out of his hand and dropped face down on the floor, a crack echoed.

Damn it!

I jerked to get up, scraping against the sheet. His weight on me halted the act. We stared at each other-a mix of hidden intentions and emotions.

A brief pause, then a shove. "G-get away! You're..far too..heavy." I panted.

"Shhh!" he shushed, fingers on my lips. I swallowed. No, no..this isn't heading the right way.

"Siddhartha, the ph-"

His kiss cut off the rest, silenced my curiosity. Digging into depths he lingered-teasing and nibbling. My voice came out in muffles. Get off, I know you're lying.

He shifted and drew me closer, our tongues screaming for dominance. Screw you!

"Stop..fighting." His breath rasped, fell like drops of molten magma on my feverish face. I struggled against a surging desire to give in, let the body take its course. For a split second, a burst of euphoria kicked in. Siddhartha's warm fingertips pounded my breasts, traced the curves: from the side of the ribs to the navel and then the hips, went further down towards my buttocks. My back buckled, pleasure coursed throughout, but the thoughts inside my head screamed. Take control, he's doing this to divert your attention.

I looked into his eyes. They burnt with carnal passion-a raw need to devour. It stimulated and seized control of my senses, an urge to digress from the topic arose. I bit his lips, blood oozed out, he quivered. I brushed the droplets away. His grip tightened, it hurt. Flesh to flesh, skin on skin, aching to feel-all of each other. He pined to be high, sex fed his libido-the more, the merrier. I seized his manhood, rounded it up and jerked, he shuddered

"More!" he grunted.

I increased tempo. He shivered-eyes closed, teeth clenched, writhing to be inside. You chose death today.

I straddled, he matched momentum, often screaming. "Yess!

You'll suffer. Sreya never gives unsolicited services.

Siddhartha convulsed. In the throes of a climax, he needed more but, I gave up.

"Don't!" he clutched my hand. "Don't."

"You should've thought before." I yanked away, but his grip firmed up. Clasping my hips he turned me upside down and hammered like a beast. "I need you", he hissed.

Tears brimmed my eyes, wrists reddened, screams choked with pain. The tenderness from the past few days vanished into thin air. Poor me! I wanted emotional connection. My husband chose hard hammering.

I pushed, gave a mighty shove, panted in raw anguish. "Next time you want to fuck..fuck like a man..I hate to have a mouse squeaking inside me." Dump the junk in its place.

"Dammit, Sreya!"

Siddhartha rushed towards the washroom. A minute later, water burbled from the tap, curses dampened by its gushing flow.

At this point, he could jerk himself to death and I wouldn't care. Bloody bastard can't keep his ding dong within!

This is the problem with showing concern, kindness. People take you for granted. I gave the asshole chances, he lost it. Fuck Baba! That old geezer dished nonsense, just like his trashy persona. Idiot had ruined Ma's life, intended to damage mine. Advice is more fun to give than receive.

I walked towards the dressing mirror, stripped off clothing; there's beauty in nudity-it shows the real you. Maroon spots stood prominent-seven in total, all on the breasts and neck. My vagina throbbed, wet and slimy. The idiot was a pig, all he needed was a place to have sex.

Mother fuckur, You want me to be your personal pornstar?

And he left a specimen of him inside! The thought infuriated, I clawed and rubbed, trying to scrape off a layer.

Using sex as a diversion? Really, Siddhartha?

Varun's engagement? My foot! The asshole's probably drilling inside some chick!

He could stand half-bust in frozen water and I wouldn't believe. I needed proof, something, anything.

This isn't what I signed up for when I agreed to the marriage? No. I thought it will be..

I seethed, heaved and puffed, the ambience turned red with rage. I recoiled in disgust, my nails digging into the chair padding.

Easy, Sreya, easy.

'Fuck, no!'

The whole family suffered a screwed brain. Like mother, like son.

Calm down.

'Like hell, I can?' 'The bastard's a vagina shredding machine! All he needs is a hole.'

Calm down.

I breathed out-a long exhalation. Putting on a robe, I sat and pondered.

He wanted me to be enraged, brimming with wrath. I would scream and shriek and he would stay nonplussed, the what-did-I-do look smeared all over his face. 'She's crazy! We just had passionate sex!' would be a perfect alibi.

Not this time, Mister.

Think, Sreya, think. He's your leverage. The only way to keep your monster-in-law and brother under control. He has the money, be practical. The woman in the mirror whispered.

'It's true. No one leaves a dungeon to enter another'-I mumbled.

The washroom lock clicked open, Siddhartha appeared in a towel, the heavy fabric hanging low on his waist. Chiselled would be an over-statement but, regular exercising kept his muscles taut.

Plop! Plop! Plop!

Water trickled-it added to the tension. He halted, we gazed at each other. His vision penetrated, scorching the slight gap in between my breasts. Men are dogs, they see the bone and their tongues salivate.

This is the opportunity.

I approached swaying my hips, eyes on him; if only looks could burn. The robe rocked, dancing on my protruding buttock before falling mid-thigh. I pushed my hair to a side, bit the lower lips. It hurt but I knew how to work my charm. Titillation never fails to disappoint, it de-armed many men before. He's a child.

The robe parted, very little-a slight opening that provokes male anatomy, stimulates its natural urges to lie bare. His palms balled into fists. I snaked an arm around his neck and pouted.

"I'm sorry. I really wanted to go."

He stiffened. I took his hands and coiled them around my waist. "Next time I won't disappoint."

He stared-brows furrowed-an assessment, full of interrogation, guessing, questioning, trying to believe yet not able to. "I understand", he said.

"Are you ok?" Why didn't you masturbate to death?

He nodded. "Hmm." Great! Your rotten sperm must be all over the washroom floor.

My lips descended on his. I mumbled-"I want you, now." He closed his eyes but stood straight-thinking, still apprehensive. Got to erase it off.

I deepened the kiss-nibbled and tasted, glued my semi-bare torso to his, giving a feel of my bare assets. I tortured till he reciprocated, breathing heavy and hot. Warm air fanned my unruly tendrils, tickled my neck as I felt his hands carding through my hair. My grip on his shoulders tightened and I succumbed to the affair. Our bodies pressed against the wall, we fumbled with control and floated on an instant bubble of passion. The scent of soap, the heat from outside, our unclad skin and the deep allure-he inhaled and embraced, rubbing against me for friction.

"Eat me out." I ordered.

As he sunk in between my legs and moans filled the room, I abandoned my conflicted self drowning in a world of blissful union. Mission accomplished.

"What situation the world throws at you, you never know. What to do with the situation should be your knowing"-Ma advised. I felt blessed to have listened to her, for I understood what to do. Men are indeed dogs, because, if treated right nothing is more faithful than them.

15th June 2011

Revelations

1. I think I may be in love with him.

2. Mamoni seems depressed, she isn't welcoming but, I will try.

3. Password- Va18LAEng28