by Reet Singh
A tremulous smile appeared out of nowhere. She nudged him in the ribs and her crooked smile grew wider. 'You have no idea what I just said, do you?'
'Not really,' Aalok confessed, glad to see her dark mood lift, and curious about the letters she'd referred to. There were quite a number of them, if the envelopes that lay strewn about were any indication.
'I ... this ...' Mohini pointed to the cardboard box, '...this is all that I brought back from Delhi, from our flat, but I never opened it.' Aalok nodded. She had certainly mentioned something about a box when she'd first told him about Govind, except that he hadn't paid much heed to it because other things had taken precedence.
'I was terrified about what it would contain,' Mohini shook her head, her eyes wide and the light in them a little wild. 'What you said back there ...' and her lips twisted into a rueful moue. 'What you said about facing my fears - well here they are,' she waved the papers at him.
'They're letters that Govind wrote to his unborn daughter. I can't believe ...' Her face crumpled even as she tenderly smoothed out the stark white stationery. 'I should have opened the box much earlier....'
She slumped and his heart stilled for a second, but then, much to his relief, she straightened and looked at him.
'I've been an idiot, haven't I? Thanks for pointing it out. I should have done this years ago.' She picked up the box, smoothed the letters into it, and began to gather the envelopes. Aalok helped her with the ones closest to him.
When she'd got the box sorted out, she tied it up again with the ribbon and held it close to her bosom for a moment, her eyes misty and far away.
Uncomfortable for more than one reason, Aalok had just about made up his mind to leave and seek the sanity of the East wing, when Mohini yawned and stretched - simultaneously - and her knuckles caught him on the chin.
He winced, more out of surprise than anything else, and Mohini groaned. 'Oh! I'm so sorry. Here, let me...' She twisted around, grabbed his face in her hands and took a deep, long look at his chin, her fingers running up and down his stubble.
The unruly tendrils of hair that framed her face tickled his nose but, instead of moving his face aside, he inhaled and got a nice whiff of something herbal - with a touch of coconut - and ...
Weirdo! He held his breath, annoyed with himself, and waited for Mohini to finish her inspection. She took her time about it causing his lungs to protest.
'You'll live,' she said finally, and tapped his chin before turning back around. Stifling another yawn, she put her head down on a bent knee and said, 'You must be tired so I won’t keep you long. It’s just that I ... I'm all confused and ... I can't think any more ...'
‘I can imagine,’ Aalok said. For years she'd had a theory about her husband only to have it debunked in spectacular style. The man, may his soul rest in peace, had written letters to his baby girl before she'd even been born! Beat that!
His own pater familias had never had a civil word to say to his daughters. Most of the conversations had been one-sided and full of bitterness. Other times, when words had failed him, he had used his fists. Aalok's blood began its slow boil again but Mohini spoke just then, and it was good - her voice distracted him from his inner demons.
'I ... I don't want to be alone with my thoughts.' Mohini said. Aalok understood. God knows, he didn't want to be alone with his thoughts either.
'I mean ...,' she continued, 'I'm very relieved, at least a part of me is, but there is still so much that I don't know ... '
Aalok nodded, allowing her words to wash over him and glad that she needed no verbal response from him. He breathed in and out, counting each inhalation and exhalation to help calm his mind, while Mohini did the reverse – she flitted from theory to theory in her attempt to figure out who her late husband had really been.
Aalok waited, and sure enough, Mohini confused herself so thoroughly that she eventually threw up her hands and groaned, 'I give up. Nothing makes sense. I'll never know who Govind really was, will I?'
Her abject tone was both annoying and endearing. Aalok didn’t want to leave her question hanging, rhetorical though it was. 'Mohini,’ he said. ‘Look at me.’
She stopped carping and turned towards him. ‘What?’
Aalok grabbed the hand that was fidgeting with her plait. ‘Stay still and listen,’ he said. ‘You’re looking for Govind in all the wrong places.’
When she opened her mouth to interrupt, he used a firm finger under her chin to shut her up. ‘He’s not in your head, Mohini. You’re trying to rationalize him but that’s never going to work because you don’t have enough information. On the other hand, you have experienced him, haven’t you? That’s who he is. That’s his truth. Let it go at that.’
Mohini was sitting so close that he could smell the Jasmine in the talcum she favored. She didn't look at him, or react in any other way except to become quiet and still - like she'd retreated into herself - and he worried that she'd taken offense.
How little he knew of her!
He couldn't read her silences. Although – and the thought came out of nowhere - he could read her body just fine. He could interpret her sighs and moans when he strummed nerve endings under her satin skin, and ... but it was the most idiotic moment to be thinking carnal thoughts. Terribly inappropriate of him.
To make amends, he tugged at Mohini’s plait. ‘Understand this, Mohini - your Govind is the man in these letters.' He jabbed at the cardboard box. ‘Don’t look for him anywhere else.’
Mohini did not acknowledge his sagacious advice, so when she did move, he braced himself for a blistering attack. He could never put himself in her place and, therefore, had no business telling her how to deal with her problems.
He should let her find her own peace without presuming to give advice. He held his breath and was astonished when Mohini, far from lashing out, turned to him and lightly placed a hand on his arm. 'How did you get to be so clever?'
Aalok made to refute her words, but she shushed him with a finger to his lips. He held his breath, and her finger flew off. She didn’t move her gaze away, though, and her lips twisted into a wry smile.
'You’re right,’ she said. ‘Govind – the one I knew - is all over these letters.'
She sighed. 'I am this close to accepting that there's only one Govind and that's the one I married. He's poured himself out to Ria - things she'd want to know about her dad. His dreams and aspirations for her. And he's written about us.'
She paused. 'I've only scanned them as yet - there are so many ... I don't even know when he wrote them. It'll take me weeks.' She shook her head, still looking at Aalok, and the gaze sharpened.
'You’re clever. Sharp. Tell me about your family, Aalok. About your sisters and your parents. Tell me - I want to understand.'
She'd changed tack again. His jaw clamped shut at her startling request, but the steely glint in her eyes told him he had nowhere to hide.
**
Mohini woke with a start, her mouth dry. Traces of a dream lingered - not a scary one from the little she recalled, yet her heart thumped and anxiety coursed through her. Sweat beaded her temples as she struggled to remember - something had happened in her dream, but what?
She drew in a ragged breath, her memory foggy, her brain sleep-dazed, and then, suddenly, it started coming back in bits and pieces. She'd been dreaming of Aalok.
Not of Govind, her beloved, late husband, but of a man she'd met only very recently. Even in her subconscious mind she had known how wrong that was.
She couldn't sleep after that. Stretching to ease the kinks in her body, she found that she wasn’t in her bed as she'd expected. Also, there was a weight on her belly that shouldn't have been there.
Freezing in the middle of the elaborate stretch, she turned her head very carefully to the right and discovered Aalok. He lay fast asleep, quite unaware that his arm was crushing her spleen.
Whoa! When and how did that happen? Had they just nodded off during their complicated conversation last night?
She remembered that she had at some point lain down to straighten her back. But falling asleep? She'd had no plans to do that.
He'd been telling her about his sisters - Mini, Midi, and Maxi, as he liked to call them. It had been quite lovely to hear him speak of them, although he'd started off frostily, resistant to sharing anything with her, but ultimately succumbing to her determined questions.
This was embarrassing - she wasn't an infant, for goodness' sake, to nod off mid-sentence. And yet, here she was, on the rug, next to a gently snoring giant of a man. No wonder she'd dreamed of him in fairly vivid technicolor!
Mohini sighed. It had definitely been an erotic dream. Very erotic. Lots of bare skin. The details were coming back to her and her face burned. Aalok's arm, hitherto only a dead weight, now began to torment her senses. Flutters danced in ever widening circles up and down her skin. The heat spread and peaked despite her desperate pleas to her body to calm down.
Breathe. Breathe in and out. Over and over. Breathe as slowly and as fully as you can.
Twenty deep breaths later, Mohini admitted defeat. Her body continued to throb in anticipation, while the oblivious hunk continued to remain oblivious.
He looked delicious in repose. The stubble, the full lips, the tousled hair, that obstinate jaw - was it even polite what she was doing - lusting after a sleeping man?
Mohini moaned soundlessly. Her eyelids drooped as she imagined him waking up and kissing her senseless with that impossibly wicked mouth. She had every expectation that the heat of her arousal would singe him awake, considering that he lay not two inches away.
It did. At least, that’s what it looked like, for when she opened her eyes, Aalok was awake. She'd had no warning. Her face burned when their eyes met.
For several seconds neither of them did a thing. Not a word was uttered and yet so much was going on – it defied logic. He seemed to look into her soul. What could he see?
His eyebrows drew together ever so slightly and he focused on her with a single-mindedness that sent goosebumps down her heated body. She couldn’t look away.
Finally, after an agonizing, breathless wait, his pupils dilated, and she saw flames in the depths. He reached for her, rolling her up and over to straddle his body, while her desperate fingers scrabbled to rid him of his clothes.
Sixteen
Something was poking into his right eye. Aalok scrunched his eyelids tightly together and, worried that the persistent force would dislodge an eyeball, opened the other eye with great caution.
He nearly jumped out of his skin - a cherubic toddler sat cross-legged by his side on the rug in Mohini's bedroom. The child was assiduously trying to pry his eyelids apart.
'Wakey-wakey?' she asked.
He most certainly was.
He nodded and she giggled, and then clapped with considerable enthusiasm.
Aalok was not only wide awake, he was also hugely worried. If he wasn't mistaken, he was naked under the sheets. Residual sleep still clouded his brain, but it was fairly clear to him that he'd just been caught with his pants down by the daughter of the woman he'd spent the night with. He hadn't bothered pulling on his clothes after Mohini had so obligingly undressed him. He could now regret the negligence at leisure.
What time was it? How was Ria here already?
This was definitely Ria - large, bright, expressive eyes, impudent face, and riotous curls that fell halfway down her back - they were a dead giveaway. She was a tiny version of Mohini and every bit as charming.
Aalok blanched as a fearful thought crossed his mind. If Ria was here, how far away could her grandmother be? Surely Mohini’s mother and daughter were to have come later in the day? Aalok squinted at the clock that adorned a far wall - it was only eight in the morning.
Good lord! Had they set off at midnight? Why would anybody do that? Especially with a little girl in tow? How very inconvenient for him.
He groaned and the tot's expression brightened. She was watching him with great anticipation as if expecting him to do something interesting.
This was unreal. What a thing to happen - to be in imminent danger of being discovered by Mohini's mother in a delicate situation! Aalok squirmed, feeling very like a mouse in an eagle's shadow. Meanwhile, Ria, unaware of his predicament, and probably disappointed at his inability to provide any kind of meaningful entertainment, pouted at him.
'Play?' she suggested, nudging a box of wooden blocks towards him. He must have looked as cornered and confused as he felt, because she smiled sweetly and added, 'please?'
'Sure,' he stuttered, sitting up carefully so that the sheet didn't slip off him at any point.
Hopefully, if he played his blocks right, the little sprite would be distracted enough for him to be able to dress himself under cover of the sheet. Fortunately, his discarded clothes were within easy reach - woefully crumpled, but blessedly accessible. He'd feel less vulnerable once he was decent.
Aalok, laying out the wooden blocks under Ria's watchful gaze, shook his head in disbelief. He was completely out of his depth. He'd never been in such a precarious situation before. Oh no, wait! He had! When Mr and Mrs trigger-happy had, independently and in quick succession, pointed their guns at him - that had been bad. Quite bad. But this was worse, somehow.
He frowned. That time, he'd had only himself to worry about. This time it was Mohini he was concerned about. He didn't think she'd enjoy explaining to her mother why there was a naked man in her bedroom.
Ria, blissfully unaware of the undercurrents, kept up an endless chatter as she explained what each block was about. She wasn't too happy with the towers Aalok constructed and she took pains to explain to him why her way was best, occasionally even reproving him in the firmest tones.
Like mother like daughter! Despite his discomfort at the delicate situation he was in, Aalok was fascinated by the tiny creature. She was at least three years younger than his niece, Anahita, but he had a hunch he'd enjoy her company a lot, regardless.
He was feeling much more together now that he had slipped on the T-shirt without causing any disturbance to their game. It was while he was wriggling into his shorts that she paused to look at him with piercing curiosity. He froze.
'Are you scratchy?' she asked, after a moment of quiet observation.
'Yes,' he managed to croak, wondering if he'd rot in hell for lying to a child.
'Okay.' Ria jumped to her feet and scampered off in the direction of one of the adjoining rooms. Hurriedly pulling his shorts up, Aalok threw off the sheet in relief and waited in an agony of indecision. He wanted to be gone from there, but couldn't bear to disappoint Ria by leaving before the little girl returned.
He didn't have long to wait. Ria skipped back waving a tin of prickly heat powder at him. Kneeling by his side, she asked in grave, hushed tones, 'Where is it scratchy?'
He held out his hand for the tin but she shook her head. 'Mujhe aata hai. Show me the scratchy.'
Clearly, the child took her role as healer very seriously. Aalok thought for a bit before pointing to the inner side of an elbow and, though she looked frankly skeptical, Ria went to work on it. She sprinkled more powder on the rug and on his T-shirt than she managed to get onto his skin, but she spread whatever there was with great concentration and with the gentlest of touches.
Aalok, watching the mop of curls bob up and down as she worked, felt something clutch in his chest. She looked up just then, her expression smug at a job well done. 'Aur?'
'Bas,' he said. 'No more scratch-scratch,' but she looked with such yearning at his other arm that he held it out to her. She grinned and went to squat on the other side of him. She had just about started to make another big mess with the powder when the curtains parted rather violently and Mohini stepped in.
Both of them, man and child, looked up at the sudden commotion. Aalok recovered first. He smiled in welcome but his partner-in-crime, Ria, immediately went on the defensive. 'Uncle was scratchy,' she explained, as though hoping to forestall a scolding at the powdery
chaos that she'd created.
'I'm sure he was,' Mohini responded with a marked lack of warmth. Her voice sounded odd, as though she had a cold. 'I see that the two of you have met.' She hadn't smiled back at him. Nor had she made eye contact yet.
So it was back to that, was it? Back to pretending last night hadn't happened?
She was beyond absurd. What was she afraid of? That he'd ask her to make an honest man of him? He snorted - and the abrasive sound got Mohini's attention.
'What?' she snapped.
'What do you think?' he growled.
'Excuse me,' she said, ignoring his counter question and indicating stiffly that, by refusing to budge, he was obstructing her efforts to clean the rug.