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My Story (Part 20) by Sharmila Sanyal.

      Drizzles of the autumn afternoons gave way to cool northerly breeze.  Almost imperceptibly — rather apologetic — feeble winter dragged himself into the metropolis.  Calcutta never slowed down, yet the evening smog of the winter months catered an illusion of lethargy around her.  Au contraire, she came alive with book fairs and expositions, with film festivals and music conferences.

One, still, could get really lonely in a wintry Calcutta… if one chose to be.

      Christmas came and went and my 'Apollo' did not show up.  Ajit and Debi were getting married the following summer, in June, to be precise, and he had to be present at the wedding.  He had decided that he couldn't get away twice within such short a period.  I was disappointed and sad, a sure sign that I was in love.  I was in my second year of college by then and the work load was the saving grace.  However, that was one of the longest winters.  As always, Debi and Ajit helped comfort me.  Sex have always helped in cheering me up and, naturally, Debi took it upon herself to keep my mind off Dipankar.  I knew Ajit would have liked to help too, but I kept a very careful distance.  For nothing had changed yet.

      There were nights alone in my bed when I wished Sanju were there.  I knew I would be mindful of the ultimate barrier, but I wanted the thrill all the same.  I wished his naked body against mine and his hardness in my grip.  Imagining his erection between my thighs, I would feel my clitoris swell up and become taut.  I would press down on it flexing my thighs... and I would come in a subdued heat, my orgasm gently blanketing me in a restful slumber.

***

      They wanted me to tag along for the "honeymoon".  I respectfully declined.  I was in no mood.

      He couldn't make it even for their wedding.  Debi thought that if I went on a short vacation with them it would cheer me up!  That was the quintessential Debi... ever the tender-heart.  Not that she would have invited anybody but me, but it was a ridiculous suggestion nonetheless.  Ajit was not that enthusiastic, what with him already having had to wait so long to really be alone with Debi.

      I would not have, anyway.  I knew how much Debi was looking forward to the short honeymoon in Orissa.  Ajit had secured a nice position with a new company in another state.  He was hired to oversee their semiconductor department.  It was a job too good to pass up for somebody from Calcutta University (which has been in shambles for a very long time).  Debi did well too, and she opted to continue with her studies.  She wanted to get into a teaching position after obtaining a doctoral.

      They had decided to live apart for a while till Ajit found a decent place to live and, Debi could transfer to the local reputed institute for her post- graduate work.  So, I allowed them their time with each other.  Indeed, strange as it may sound, even this honeymoon was delayed till Ajit could be back with a couple of weeks of unpaid vacation during November.  Ajit had left for his job within a week following their wedding.

      It was a miserable time for me.  I don't remember ever feeling so alone.  I was also very upset with Dipankar.  He had called me up before the wedding and I had slammed the phone down in what my mother had later described as a 'rage'.

      It took me a week to get over that feeling of dejection and despair.  I reasoned with myself that the only time I really talked to him in person was more than eighteen months back.  So, I decided, it was not worth getting all twisted up inside for such a long-distance relationship.  Then, out of the blue, I found myself drawn to Bidyut.

***

      That day the whole country was in the grip of panic.  Our colleges shut down early for the day and we scrambled out into the streets hoping to catch whatever transportation we could find back home.  Debi and Ajit had left just a few days earlier for their trip.  There was an eerie silence on the streets, save the occasional privately owned bus, its horn blaring, speeding off empty at an obscene speed, trying to get back to its depot before the 'riot' broke.  Almost everybody had a confused and lost look about her/him.  The Sikh taxi drivers were almost flying through the streets with their meters wrapped away and out of sight.

"Fifty," said the rickshaw-puller, "you will not find anything cheaper now, Didimoni." He announced with a 'take-it-or-leave-it' attitude.

"He is right... we could split the fare." I heard a voice behind me.  I turned my head and looked at him.  It was Bidyut.  He was then a couple of years my senior, in his fifth, to be precise.  "I heard you ask him," he added with a gentle smile, "I didn't know you lived there.  I live in that area too."

"Really? Where?" I asked.  It was strange that I had never seen him around there, but from what he told me he lived a street over from ours.  "Sure, Bidyut-da, I don't mind."

      And that was it!  He had an aura of gentleness about him that I found very comforting … especially during that crazy morning's confusion.  I had talked with him before and also had an occasional cup of tea in his company — albeit not in any exclusivity.  I never really noticed him beyond the usual exchanges of niceties.

      As we talked, sitting in the rickshaw uncomfortably small even for the closest of friends, a warm, if not romantic, feeling swept across me.  I don't remember what we — make it 'he' — talked about during that twenty-five-minute ride, all I now remember is that I had suddenly found myself rather interested in the man sitting beside me.  I remember having looked at his face and feeling the warmth.  It was that morning that I actually noticed his features for the first time.  Before that, I could have had easily passed him on the street and not recognize him as "Bidyut-da" with whom I had occasionally shared a bench at the tea stall.

      With voice a very romantic baritone, he had a strikingly typical Bengali face — a very Bengali mix of Mongolian and Caucasian features in just the right proportions.  He had large eyes with a straight nose set between a pair of rounded cheek bones.  His wide forehead, above the almost perfect set of eyebrows, looked even wider with his hair brushed back.  His clean shaven face was just too flawless to be remembered.

      With my mind suddenly racing towards a very unknown expanse, the trip home had ended with him getting off at his house and paying off the full fare.  I had objected and then had dreamily given up with a very sheepish promise of returning the favor in kind at some undetermined future date.

***

      They returned from their honeymoon, perfectly radiant, with extremely satisfied looks.  When I looked at her eyes, winked and asked the obvious question, she said, with a hint of bashfulness, "Oh... marvelous... just wonderful..." or some such nondescript phrases.  I thought I saw a familiar sign of her arousal just as she mentally recollected her conjugal bliss.  It was obvious that the recent turmoil that the country was facing did little to dampen her excitement.

      The Prime Minister assassinated, and the entire country in the throes of intense communal passion, our college remained closed for the next several days.  Despite the political odium he engendered among the followers of the Prime Minister, the Chief Minister of our province drew admiration from all political parties for having averted a communal massacre the like of which had gripped New Delhi.  It was a strange time indeed.  Prior to that day, the political fallout from the very insolent action on the Sikh holy shrine was confined to that part of the country.  Now, every Indian was feeling the pinch.  The late Prime Minister had never been the darling of every Indian, but she had an enigma about her that kept friends and foes equally in awe.  The entire body politic was at a loss.  I had never been too political, but something in the air had permeated my apathy.  Maybe it was the fact that it was the first assassination and the first communal unrest in India during my existence.  We were not reading about these things in the history books, we were living through it.  For several days, my libido seemed to have taken a well deserved vacation.

"Did you guys go out and see things?" I asked.

"We did... went on a trip to Konark," she said with a wink and a naughty glitter in her eyes, "And after that you can imagine... "

"Sure I can," I said, "knowing you and Ajit, you guys probably never left your hotel rooms after that." I wasn't really too much interested in learning the details.  It surprised even me.

"Why don't you come to our place?" Debi suggested, "And I will tell you all about IT!" There definitely was a pregnant stress on that last word.  I would have died to know all about "IT".  I would have asked her over to our place.  I wanted to talk to her about Bidyut-da.  Then I decided against it.  I wasn't sure myself about what was happening,  so I thought I  would keep this newest twist to myself... at least for a while.

      I did go to 'her' place, and I think I did listen to the very detailed description of intimacy between her and Ajit.

      After the wedding, they were allocated a separate room in the house.  The room was on the third floor, which was essentially the roof except for this one room that Ajit and his younger brother used to share.  It was of a modest size and very airy.  Ajit's brother, about six years his younger, ended up having to sleep in the drawing room since the second room belonged to their sister.

      Debi locked the doors to their room and proceeded to give me a 'blow- by-blow' account of their honeymoon in Orissa.  Not much about Orissa.  She described to me in details the numerous erotic sculptures that adorn the many temples, and promised me to show the pictures they took of them.  I recollected, even as I listened to her, the very physical effect I had experienced several years earlier when we went to Puri, and then from there to see the Sun temple of Konark.  That, in all probability, would have been my first experience of arousal.  I had little knowledge of much more then.  (I don't remember the exact year, but I could not have been more than twelve, and I had absolutely no idea what a sexual excitement should feel like).

      As I listened to her describing how they tried to emulate the very difficult positions depicted on the temples, and how, she banged her head on the floor while trying to accommodate a standing Ajit with a modified head-stand, I found my mind drifting.  My disinterested state didn't go undetected for too long and Debi was all over me trying to see if I wasn't coming down with something.

"You should, maybe, stay here tonight, Sharmi," Debi said with concern in her voice, "I will make you a bed on the floor."

      If I were in my usual elements, my response, to that proposal, would have been predictable.  When I failed to respond with the usual racy suggestions, Debi looked at me intently and said, "I know something is wrong, what is it?"

"Nothing, Debi, I am just preoccupied with the things going on in the country, I guess," I said as I stood up from the bed and looked at her.  It might not have been the whole truth but it did comprise a part of it.

"I see," she was not convinced, "but I have never known you to be very political."

"You don't have to be political, Debi," I snapped back before I could control myself, "you think everything is about you?"

"Sharmi!"

"I'm sorry, Debi, I am really not in the mood," I kissed her and tried to make up for the damage.  "I want to listen to your honeymoon stories, maybe I can come and spend the night when Ajit is not here?" I knew — even as I was saying it — that Debi was not buying it.

"I'm sorry too, Sharmi," she said, "I know how you feel.  Dipu should have come in June... even if for a week."

"Never mind him," I thought I should tell her that she was way off-base on that one, but I couldn't; I wasn't entirely convinced myself of that either.  Besides, I didn't want to give her another reason to worry.  However, both politics and Bidyut were to be blamed that evening.

      For the first time I kept something from Debi.  The urge to protect my newfound romantic interest from others was inexplicably dominant.  Another year would pass before I could tell her about him.

***

      We met regularly in the hospital and, before long, started going out to have dinner at the local restaurants.  Things were made simple by the fact that Dipankar failed to show up the following year too, and our regular correspondence had slowed to a trickle.  Events during that period are somewhat fuzzy and there are temporal overlaps in my mind; but I believe, by the year-end, Bidyut was a general practitioner, assisting his father in his already established clinic.  He had wanted to go into surgery, but his father's failing health forced him to pick up the practice.  Although he didn't seem to mind, I had felt sorry for him.

++++

      When I finally broached Bidyut to her, she had expressed uneasiness.  "But, aren't you corresponding with Dipu, too?" Debi had said.

"I am... but don't you think it would be rather selfish of him to expect that I will keep my life on hold for a person I had basically talked to once about thirty months ago?" I became aware of the acerbity in my delivery.

"I suppose," and she had looked at me quizzically.  "You sure you have absolutely no feeling for Dipu, then?" she had always been very direct and this one actually caught me off-guard.

"I... I... don't know," I had said, "But Bidyut is here and now!" I had always known that there was something about Dipankar that was hard for me to ignore; but let me stick to the timeline for now.  Other things warrant documentation meanwhile.

***

      After Ajit had left for his job again, Debi was feeling very alone.  Especially so since she was in  different surroundings.  Although she was no stranger to that household, it was, after all, not hers... not yet, anyway.  Not where she grew up and not the room she was used to falling asleep at night.

The two weeks following their wedding that she and Ajit were together, had passed in a blink.  She had had little time to brood.  There is an age old Bengali aphorism — "ghharete parabaashi" — that could aptly describe her state of mind.  She was a stranger in her 'own' house.

      As for myself, I was feeling relieved that Ajit had left the week before.  Now that he was Debi's husband, I felt uneasy being my old self in his presence.

      Ajit's parents were wonderful and they made every effort to make their 'daughter-in-law' comfortable, but it wasn't something they could fix.  Debi was missing Ajit like she had never imagined.  It was probably compounded by the short week of honeymoon.

      It was not the same as before their marriage.  She described to me how the physical union had felt like the ultimate melding of their two souls.  It was something I could not comprehend then.  I wondered how she could be so miserable all of a sudden when she knew all along that they were to live apart for a while.  Indeed, not accompanying him was her decision all along.  After my initial sympathy wore off, I felt irritated at her whining about it every time we met.  Part of my vex (I am sure now)  was due to the sudden cognizance of Ajit's eminence in her life.

Strangely I had half expected that, but never saw it coming.

      Debi somehow sensed my dejection and came to the rescue.  "Sharmi," she tenderly said that afternoon as we lay side by side in their bed, "you are upset, aren't you?"

"No!" I was looking at the ceiling, "why?"

"I know you," she sounded contemplative, "I think you are jealous." After a short pause, she whispered out loud, "My God, Sharmi... you ARE jealous... of Ajit... aren't you!" she sat up straight beside me.  I looked at her and marveled  at her beauty.  She looked so damn beautiful, the vermilion along the thin parting of her dense black hair showing like a line of fire!  I wanted to hug her, and kiss her, and become her as Ajit obviously had.  But for my bruised ego, I would have pulled her down on top of me and be naughty.  Instead, all I did was turn over on my stomach and break out in a bawl, thankfully muffled by the pillow.

"Great!" Debi jumped out of the bed and quickly closed the door.  "What on earth... !  Why... why are you crying like that? If anybody should cry it should be I !  Sharmi...?"

"See... you don't even think about me anymore, Debi," the words escaped muffled.

"What?" Debi stood beside the bed and turned me over, "What are you talking about? You are being childish, Sharmi.  You know better than to say that."

"You have not stopped talking about Ajit since I came," I was being childish.

"Now!  Upon my word, Sharmi!  I thought you wanted to know about Ajit and me!" she said, "And whom should I talk to about these things but you, anyway? Oh, Sharmi... you know I love you both... equally" she added, "well almost..." and broke out in a giggle.

      In the deep recesses of my head somewhere there still was a sane voice that poked me and alerted me to my juvenile behavior.  I just wanted to hear it from Debi.  I was certainly mature enough to know the meaning of "almost" in that context.  I also knew rather well that I was really not jealous of Ajit (indeed, I was, at that moment, feeling a kinship with him).  I could not myself fathom my own emotions; I felt stupid.

"Damn... I know... I feel stupid, Debi," I murmured.

"Never mind now," she said, "I have not had any release for over a week now, are you in a mood to... ?"

"God, yessss," I said with a naughty hiss, grabbed her hand and pulled.  She lost her balance and fell on the bed.  The next moment she was all over me.  "Do you think you'll like me after doing Ajit?" I said, trying to sound despondent.

"We'll see..." Debi answered as she unbuttoned my blouse, "if not, we'll surgically fit you with something." We both giggled at that very crass quip.

"I should get out of my clothes, Debi," I said and stood up from the bed, "I will have to go back home, you know."

"OK... hurry up," Debi was evidently starving.  She was looking at me with a fiery lust in her eyes.  I took my time as I undressed.  I watched her breathing getting irregular and her eyes glazing over as I teased.

"Sharmi!" she hissed as I gently gathered my sari up and started pleating it for properly putting it away.

"You don't want me to go home in a crumpled up sari, do you?" I said with a nonchalant smile and that drove her mad.

"I have a million saris you could wear, you imp!" she got up and from the bed and grabbed the half-done thing from me.  She had already divested herself of her own and was in her blouse and petticoat.  I could see the outlines of her nipples from above the fine material of her sleeveless blouse.  She seemed to have added some to those beautiful orbs since I last saw her in a state of undress.

"Wow... Debi... Ajit certainly has applied his touch there, hasn't he!" I said as I felt the contour of one of her breasts with my hand, "Ahem... I wonder if he will be willing to oblige me too... "

"Sure... " She said while unbuttoning her blouse, "But I don't think you really need any in that department, you look just fine."

      We were most certainly in our comfortably racy frame of mind.  The allusion to 'Ajit's touch' is traceable to the widely held contention among Indians that the lover's massage serves to augment female breasts (a concept that surely would save a lot of money for a lot of misdirected souls, and, of course, push back the retirement age of a certain group of professionals by about twenty years).

      I stared at her full, proud breasts with envy and affection.  As she bared them, I lunged forward and stooped to plant a kiss on one.  A strange scent greeted me.  Debi even smelled different!  It was in no way a turn off, but, in a flash, I became aware of her mutation from being just 'Debi' to being somebody's wife, somebody's daughter-in-law and somebody's sister-in-law.

I might have frozen in that posture, for I heard Debi's low voice, "Sharmi?"

"You smell different," I looked up at her eyes and declared, "maybe it's the house."

"Bad?" she asked naively.  There was a slight hint of embarrassment in her voice.

"You never smell bad," I said, and licked at one of her already swollen nipples still under the thin fabric of her blouse, "just a little different."

Debi moaned and took her blouse off.

'C'mon... Sharmi..." she said as she pulled me towards her and we both crashed on the bed.

      It was a big bed and it felt different not to have to maneuver our bodies within the confines of a narrow cot that we were used to.  I still had my blouse and my petticoat on, but I think I forgot about them.  I was hungry for her, and for her sex.  I had not even masturbated for a few weeks.  The pent up tension — and my frustration at not being able to connect with Debi and Ajit following their union — made me frantic.  I wanted to make love to Debi like the very first night we explored each other.

"Mmmmmm... " I buried my face between her breasts and let myself go on her body.  She held me tightly with her arms across my back and rocked.

"Ohhhhh... sweet... my sweet Sharmi..." she moaned, and she rocked as if cradling a baby, "yessss... suck... suck on my tits... ohhhh... nnnnngghhhh... missed you..."

      I soon forgot my anguish and had the most exhilarating afternoon in months.  Debi let me relax on my back while she feasted.  She definitely appeared hungrier than I was.  I wasn't complaining, however.

"You look more beautiful now," I said as she unbuttoned my blouse.

"Really?" she looked at my eyes "why?"  Even as she said that I could tell she knew already.  Her eyes betrayed her.  There was a knowing contentment in those beautiful eyes that was hard to miss.

"You tell me," I reached with my hands and caressed her breasts, "Could it be Ajit?"

"I don't see how," she was in a very playful mood, "except that I eat... ate... a little different," she added and threw me a naughty grin.  She reached around my back to unhook my bra and I let her fumble for a few seconds before pointing out that I was wearing one with a clasp in the front.  "I should get one of these," she said, "He should have less of a trouble then."

"You shouldn't make everything that easy for him, Debi... or else you'll spoil him," I said, very seriously, as I lazily played with her nipples.

"OK... boss..." she said with a mock salute and a smile.  She bent down on me, taking my already sensitive nipples between her teeth — one by one.  Arching my back, I bit down hard on my lower lip trying to stifle a moan.

      We savored each other without bothering to get rid of all our clothes.  She still had her petticoat on; and I my blouse, my bra and the rest.  Soaking my panties through, I let Debi rub her closely trimmed cunt on my upper thigh, while, hunched over my torso, she licked me and kissed me and caressed me, her fingertips tracing abstract patterns on my skin.

      Considering the extent of our want, we behaved with utmost civility I must say.  Whether that was a subconscious decision on our part — given that it was Debi's 'Shashurbaari' — or it just happened that way, I couldn't tell; but we enjoyed what we did that afternoon.

      We played with each other despite the urgency, and spent the entire afternoon slowly satisfying our bodies.  I don't remember having ever done it that way till that day.  We had had taken our time before — ascending to feverish heights of passion and then letting go with volcanic raptures — but that afternoon was very different.  Time waited in deference to our mutual homage at the altar of Pleasure.  It was an extended autumn that year in early October and its indolence  — in that room — had us in its grip.  We licked each other in a sixty-nine and the heady aroma between her thighs made me tipsy.  I don’t have any other word to describe my state.

      When we knew that we were close, we faced each other and we held ourselves in a soft embrace, our thighs entwined and the petals of our womanhood softly but surely against the other's thigh, grinding in a deliberate rhythm.  Our tongues mingled, our eyes locked, and we moaned and we groaned into each other's mouths as we started a slow ascension to the peak... the peak I had not visited in the longest time... the peak from where I would let myself go... the peak where Debi pushed me up to, in a gentle, sustained fervor.  I dug into the smooth skin of her thigh with my wetness and my senses reeled, my lightness soaking up every sensation that permeated from between my legs.  Our resolution washed over our perspiring bodies like tiny, yet unbroken, waves that break at a lake’s shore in a calm afternoon.

      We could have easily drifted off to an afternoon siesta, only that it was not quite afternoon anymore.  The late autumn's Sun had already undertaken his hasty retreat.  We looked into each other's eyes and smiled.  I thought I detected a shyness in her eyes.  I put my lips on hers.

"Ki bhaabchhish?" I whispered my question, my lips barely moving on hers.

"Kichhu naa..." she replied with her eyes closed.

"You ARE thinking something, Debi," I moved my face away and asked with some emphasis.  Her eyes were still closed.

"Well..." she looked at my eyes and said, "I was wondering if this could be considered adultery!"

"Because you are married now?" I found myself wondering at the same time.  Never did I consider that possibility. 

"Yeah!" she said out loud and sat up.  She looked ravishing in her disheveled hair and her state of undress.

"Good question," still mulling the idea, I responded unmindfully.  I had no idea either.  The scenario never played out in my imagination.

"Maybe I should actually ask Ajit," Debi chuckled and ran one of her hand across my breasts, lightly touching the taut nipples with her fingertips, "if he doesn't think it is..."

"And if he does?" I put my hand on hers over my chest and asked.  I knew that Debi wasn't going to ask him anything and our occasional afternoons or nights together would remain the presumed play, as it were, between us.  But, again, just that thought of Ajit's confidence amused me.

"Well, I guess I'll have to make sure he doesn't. Won't I?" she replied with the same naughty smile and a feigned sigh.

      We lazily dressed and made ourselves civil before joining the family downstairs.  Debi's in-laws were sitting in front of the TV in their small drawing room.  They looked up at us and smiled approvingly.

"Byash ghum dili tora!" Ajit's Mom said with an affectionate nod and in an accent reminiscent of her ancestral home.  I was glad for her inference.

"Not really... I was just dozing," I laughed, "I usually don't sleep in the afternoons."

"I did..." Debi said in a very low voice.  I detected a hint of guilt in her voice.  She never could lie very well.

"Stay for dinner, Sharmi," Ajit's mom insisted, her sense of hospitality a reflection of her unmistakable roots in the erstwhile 'East Bengal'.

"No, no, it'll be too late then," I said.  "I will come back and maybe stay the night one of these days," I added with a fleeting glance at Debi.  She was looking straight ahead through the window.

      I felt a nip in the air as I stepped outside.  Debi was going to see me off at the bus stop.  I gathered the thin shawl around me and looked at her.  "Toke jete hobe naa..." I said tentatively.  I wanted her company as long as I could, but I said that anyway!

"No, I want to... " Debi started walking.  "It feels good to be out," she added, "Can't go out on a whim anymore."

"Why do you say that?" I was a little puzzled.

"Oh Sharmi..." she made a gesture of exasperation with her shoulders, "It's not the same when you are married!  You'll see..."

"I still don't get it," I said, "They are so nice... you are lucky!" I was referring to her in-laws.  They were indeed nice.

"Sharmi, Sharmi..." she said, "They are nice, but no matter what, I am now a 'married woman' and 'married women' don't go out for evening strolls."

      Not that I was not familiar with what Debi was saying, it was just that I could not picture her as a 'married woman' in the way she submitted herself to be one.

      I wanted to give a hug, but I knew that the way I would hug her would attract curious looks.  Not that it would essentially result in any inference at large, but I had become more aware of our relationship that went beyond the social prescription.  I had learnt to control my spontaneity in public.

Anyway, I was feeling much better knowing that marriage had not diminished her affection.

***

      It was getting a little too much for Debi.  The commute to the university for her post-graduate classes was not that difficult; and she was used to it.  However, what she was not used to was being a 'daughter-in-law' and a graduate student at the same time.  In an extended family - - no matter how moderately extended it is — there are certain things that are expected of the new inductee.  A 'hyphenated daughter' is supposed to help in the general upkeep of the house, which a 'daughter' often may be excused from.  That is not to say that, Jayeeta, her sister-in-law, didn't do her share.  Being the youngest of the three siblings, and by virtue of the fact that she was only fifteen at the time, she was the darling of the household.  Debi was very fond of her.  Nonetheless, she increasingly found herself unable to cope with her dual role.

      When she talked to Ajit's mother about withdrawing from the University, his mother was very upset.  She suggested that Debi better set her priorities and forget about the household for the time being.  After another month or so, she wrote to her son to come to Calcutta and find a place for themselves closer to the University.  That was simply a way to have her out of the house so that she would not feel obligated to do things that are usually expected of the daughter-in-law.  Even after being told not to bother with the household, Debi was carrying on with her chores as usual.

      That worked out just fine.  I 'agreed' to live with Debi, and Ajit found a very decent place on CIT Road.  It was closer to the Sealdah train station than it was to Park Circus, and indeed was close to both our schools.  My parents agreed that, since I would be staying with Debi, it would be convenient for me too.

      So, by the following May, Debi and I were sharing this wonderful flat on the ground floor of a three-storied house.  It had two bedrooms, a drawing room, a kitchen and an extended dining space.  The neighborhood was good too.  My father wanted to pay half the rent, but Ajit declined.

"You must be joking, Meshomashai," he had said, "I am relieved that Debi doesn't have to live all by herself."  As a gesture, then, my father bought some furniture for the drawing room.

      Ajit had only a week's leave from his job, and so we finalized the rental deal and moved in within that short time.  He had arranged for the flat through a friend soon after his mother had contacted him.  So, it was ready when he arrived.  Needless to say, I allowed Debi and Ajit their privacy for the couple of nights they got to spend together in their "own home" — albeit rented — and stayed home.

+++++

"Now... Sharmi... behave yourself while I am away," Ajit whispered in my ears at the train station.

"Did you tell that to your wife too?" I responded sharply — in an undertone.

"What are you two whispering about?" Debi asked.

"Tell her, Ajit..." I smiled.

"Tell me what?"

"He wants us to behave,"

"Yeah?" Debi looked at Ajit and then at me with a very coquettish grin, "What did you say?"

"I said to tell you," I hugged her from the side and said.

"I see that you are not going to," Ajit winked at us, and then added "At least I don't have to worry about anybody else getting into my bed."

"You are being rather presumptuous, aren't you Ajit?" I said with some defiance in my voice.

"Who do you have in mind?" he asked, "Sanju" and then followed it up by a quick "Oooops... sorry."

"Debi!" I was genuinely shocked, "You... you told him?"

"Ajit!" Debi was embarrassed, "you are useless, Ajit!"

"Don't worry, it is safe with me," Ajit grinned devilishly.

      I was not sure how to react.  I was a little embarrassed but that was about the whole extent of it.  I was shocked that Debi told him, but I wasn't mad.  Within a few moments it made every logical sense that Debi would share this with Ajit.  Fleetingly, I could visualize them in a passionate embrace on their bed... he inside her and she murmuring the torrid details about me and Sanju, while he slid in and out in a slow rhythm... listening to her.  I must say, the scene, as I imagined it, made me humid.

"Who said I was worrying..." I found myself saying as I tightened my embrace of Debi, "But you never know... really... Ajit." I felt some satisfaction in giving some of his own medicine back.

Well... nor did I!

+++++

End Part 20 (To be Contd.  .  .)