No Escape from Love

by Reet Singh

  When did Aalok get back? Was that his car or did they have another unexpected visitor?

  Ria, curled up next to her with her own picture book, bolted upright when a car door slammed. 'Is that Nana?' she asked, her eyes popping.

  Mohini's heart wrenched - the poor mite was happy enough living here alone with her, but she was growing up now and she needed more people to call her own. She was never happier than when people visited, but it was not very often that they did.

  It couldn't be Nana - he wasn't expected, although Mohini wouldn't put it past him to turn up unannounced - her family had started doing that a lot of late.

  'Let's go take a look, Ria. No, not barefoot. Where are your slippers?'

  It wasn't Nana, but Aalok, they discovered, and he was in the process of depositing his bags into the trunk of his SUV.

  A little breathless, Mohini crossed both arms across her chest. 'You're back,' she said, and then realized how stupid that was. It was obvious that he was back, but he was also leaving.

  'You're leaving?'

  Gosh! How much dumber could she sound?

  'It's best I get back.'

  'Oh! Yes, of course.'

  'Nooo!' Ria wailed. 'Don't go. I haven't played yet.'

  'Baby!' Mohini grabbed at her, hoping to placate the little girl, but Ria escaped and flung herself at Aalok. He scooped her up and tickled her tummy, making her giggle and it was a sight to see the tear-streaked face light up.

  Mohini, the lump in her throat growing by the minute, watched as her daughter threw her baby soft arms around Aalok's neck and buried her face in his shoulder.

  'I have to go, little one.' Aalok kissed the top of Ria's head. He tried to set the child down but Ria held on for dear life.

  'Ria,' Mohini urged. ‘Come to Mama.’ She reached for her daughter but Ria wouldn’t let go of Aalok.

  Mohini felt her temper rise at her daughter’s obduracy, but she bit her lip and took a deep breath. She could feel Aalok’s gaze on her face and she schooled her features into placidity.

  ‘How about if I tell you a story before I leave?’ Aalok asked Ria. ‘We can sit in my truck, if you’d like that.’

  ‘Yes,’ Ria squealed, letting go of Aalok’s neck and clapping her little hands together.

  As they were settling into the front seats of the SUV, Mohini peeped in and muttered, ‘I’ll be indoors. Just honk when you’re done. I’ll come and get her.’

  Walking back to the main house, Mohini felt an ache in the region of her heart, and her eyes grew moist. Her daughter was going to become a nervous wreck if she didn't do something about it. Not right away, but soon. For now all she needed was for Aalok to leave. Only then would she get her life back.

  Mohini’s feet were clumsy and her steps dragged as she walked. Once inside her room, she collapsed onto her bed and pulled the covers over her head.

  Five minutes to still her churning mind - that was all the time she probably had before Aalok called for her.

  §§§

  In the end, it was a good ten minutes before Aalok brought Ria in himself. The little girl was fast asleep and Mohini jumped up to clear away the books that cluttered her daughter’s half of the bed. Laying her down gently, Aalok walked out again without waiting for Mohini’s whispered thank you.

  After removing the little slippers, Mohini covered her daughter’s sleeping form with a thick sheet and then hurried out after Aalok.

  The sky was darkening when they got to the SUV. Something made her say 'Wouldn't it be better if you left early tomorrow? It'll be maddening driving at night with everyone's headlights flashing into your eyes.'

  'No,' he said, 'It's best I go now.'

  His flat tone, and the tiniest emphasis on the 'now', made her bristle. 'Sure,' she snapped. 'Godspeed.'

  He turned, then, and putting the keys back into his trouser pocket, took a step towards her. His expression was anything but friendly. 'What's biting you? Am I supposed to guess what this is about? Do you want me to stay?'

  Mohini sputtered, 'Of course not! No! I don't want you to stay - there, is that clear enough?'

  'It's crystal clear,' Aalok snarled, 'that your head is all messed up.'

  'On the contrary,’ she said, ‘my head has never been clearer.’ Her hands fisted by her sides and her mouth tightened. ‘What are you so mad about?'

  Aalok marched further up and loomed in his inimitable style. Mohini's eyes widened and he stepped back at once, raking a hand through his hair.

  'You’re dishonest,’ he grated. ‘And that’s not fair. It’s not fair to the others in your life. And it’s not good for you.'

  Mohini shook her head and her lips twisted. ‘You’re insane. I never lie.’

  ‘You lie to yourself. All the time.’ He enunciated the last three words slowly, sounding more exasperated than angry now, but he was still being obtuse.

  ‘I don’t accept your assessment of me,’ she said through gritted teeth, ‘You don’t know me at all. Even if you are right, why should it make you so mad? I’m nothing to you. You’re nothing to me. Ships that pass in the night and all that.’

  ‘There you go,’ Aalok sneered. ‘You’ve just proven that my assessment is spot on. At least I don’t pretend.’ He threw up his hands. ‘I’m attracted to you and I make no bones about it. I don’t pull you close and then push you away.’

  Mohini was stunned into silence for a bit. She gathered her wits about her with some difficulty and finally asked, ‘How does it matter whether I admit it or not? It’s just attraction, lust - I don’t plan to do anything about it. Do you?’

  'I’m willing to think about it, at least, unlike you,' Aalok snapped. ‘This thing between us isn’t necessarily a bad thing.’

  ‘There’s nothing between us, Aalok,’ Mohini said. She remembered Ria and her mouth trembled. ‘Nothing.’

  Aalok shook his head and looked up at the stars as though someone up there was listening. 'This is what she does. This is what I'm talking about. She hides. Her body says one thing and her mouth another.'

  'You’re crazy,' Mohini gasped. 'My body hasn't said a word.'

  'Not this time, it hasn't,' he ground out. 'but perhaps I should ask again. Your body's more truthful than you are.'

  'Rubbish,' she snapped, but it was too late.

  Aalok moved before she could guess what his intentions were. He swept her into his arms and his lips claimed hers with a searing intensity. She resisted, naturally, because he was wrong and she needed to prove it to him, but her silly legs turned to jelly and she had to wrap her own arms around his neck to stay upright.

  Then, her lips parted, quite by accident, and he took advantage, his tongue tangling with hers and turning her blood to molten lava. The moan that escaped from deep inside her was no help at all - nor was the thundering of his heartbeat against her breast.

  Her resolve was no match for the heat of his arousal and when he turned and propped her on the hood of his truck, she wrapped her legs around him. He coaxed her closer still and the hunger that consumed her tormented another moan out of her throat.

  He stopped very suddenly, cruelly putting distance between them, but hanging on to her until she's slid to the ground and was steady on her feet. He let her go, then, and stepped even farther away.

  The sensual fog lifted, and she threw her hands up in the air. 'I don't know what you just tried to prove. I don't deny that I'm attracted to you. It's the sex - you're good in that department. So what?'

  'So,' he said, his voice low and thick, 'stop hiding. You're a lovely, passionate woman, you deserve better than to be skulking in a village pretending you have everything that you need.'

  Mohini opened her mouth to respond, but he wasn't done. 'The excuses you offer?' He gave a harsh bark of laughter. 'They're flawed. Untenable. Or at the very least, they're easily negotiable. Your daughter, your work ...'

  'Please don't bring my daughter into this,' Mohini interrupted. She felt cold. Fragile.

  Wrapping her arms ar
ound herself, she shook off the unease but couldn't stop the frost that dripped off her tongue. 'You're a fine one to talk. Why don't you pep-talk yourself first, and then we'll see?'

  Aalok quirked a scornful eyebrow at her and it made her lash out at him. 'What are you hiding from?' she sneered. 'Where do you run off to every now and then when things get unpleasant. What is that all about?'

  He didn't answer, just stood there, all wooden and secretive but Mohini was having none of it. She didn't notice the whiteness of his knuckles as he clenched his hands tight. Or the bleakness in the hooded eyes.

  She wasn't looking directly at him otherwise she might have stopped ranting. 'Why don't you fix yourself before you begin to analyze me? Get your own act in order, Mister, and then we'll talk.'

  She finally made eye contact and thought he looked stricken. She felt horrible, but two seconds later his eyes flamed and his mouth tightened into a grim line, and soon he was his usual implacable self. Almost.

  Though the tension in the handsome face relaxed somewhat, there was a pallor about him despite his rigid posture, and it stabbed at Mohini's heart. She'd been cruel to mock him about his problems.

  She took a quick step towards him, an arm outstretched, but he turned on his heel, stormed to his truck and slammed the door shut.

  Reversing violently, Aalok sped past a distressed Mohini, stopping once to open the main gate and then another time to shut it behind him with clanging finality.

  'Well!'

  Mohini exhaled after a minute or two, glad to find that she hadn't broken into pieces with the impact of the forceful departure. She was, in fact, perfectly able to walk up to the gate and lock it for the night.

  'Run away,' she said to no one in particular. 'You're a fine one to talk.'

  Eighteen

  The phone vibrated about an hour after Aalok's decampment and Mohini flew out of the dressing room. She was in the process of changing for bed, while Ria was still fast asleep. She didn't expect it to be Aalok - of course she didn't - but she couldn't contain the urgency with which she grabbed the instrument off her bed. Cursing as it fell from her clumsy fingers, she lunged for it again and was able to answer before it could disconnect.

  'Hullo?' she managed, embarrassed that her voice sounded breathless.

  'Who the hell is this?' a very cross female voice asked.

  Deflated, Mohini huffed, 'You called me, Madam. You should tell me who you are and not the other way around.' Not wanting to waken Ria, she kept her voice low.

  'I did not ring you up, idiot. I called Aalok Ahuja. So you better tell me who the hell ...'

  Mohini cut the call. The conversation was going nowhere although it had helped to establish one thing - the man had forgotten to take his blasted SIM with him. Scrabbling in her desperation to switch off the phone before the rude woman called back, she yanked off the back cover and removed the second SIM.

  Clutching the micro card tightly in a closed palm, Mohini's spirit sank. The fact that Aalok now had neither phone nor SIM made the distance between them grow exponentially. Why did that thought hurt so much?

  He'd accused her of being dishonest. He was wrong. Sending him away had little to do with dishonesty – and lots to do with expedience. They’d had great sex – she’d said as much to his face. That was as honest as it got.

  Mohini, curled up in bed next to her precious daughter, shut her eyes and tried to sleep. Thinking hurt her brain and so she wasn't going to think any more. Not about him, not about anything. Not tonight, at any rate. Tonight she was inexplicably bruised and very, very tired. And scared, too, for some reason.

  §§§

  It was a whole month before Mohini admitted to herself that it hadn't been about the sex. If it had, she wouldn't still be haunted by memories of smiling brown eyes, and a wicked, teasing man. She got a lump in the throat every time she passed by the garden swing, or worked at the kitchen tap. Was that about sex? She didn't think so.

  She found herself putting Ria's blocks away, bringing out a brand new puzzle so that her daughter wouldn't wonder where the blocks had gone - they nestled in Mohini's cupboard, amongst her clothes, though she never touched them once she put them there.

  It was a whole month before Mohini ventured into the East annexe. The place was neat as a pin, no signs of the previous occupant - no signs at all of the large man who'd left an imprint on her soul.

  Something broke that day - and pain tore into her through the cracks. She sank to her knees, moaning as if some one dear had died. She'd curled up on his bed later, hugging his pillow to her heart, and had stared at nothing for hours, dry-eyed, her breathing all uneven and shuddery.

  Raji, Shamsher Singh's long-suffering wife, found her there when she came looking to see why her mistress hadn't turned up for work. The woman hadn't understood, because, obviously, you didn't fall desperately in love with someone in just two days of knowing them. As far as Mohini was concerned, though, apparently you did.

  She didn't feel like sharing, so she kept the knowledge to herself, managing to get through day after day after painfully, slow day.

  She began grooming some of her ladies for managerial roles. Raji, who was good at keeping track of supplies, was happy to oversee purchases. Young Chinder, the only graduate in the group, would keep accounts.

  Like a lovesick teenager, Mohini would occasionally hold his SIM tightly in her fist, and would call his number just to hear the electronic voice say, 'This number is either out of range or switched off. Please call again later.' And she would. Again and again, until the day the voice said, 'Please check the number you have dialed. This number does not exist.'

  Terror flooded her body. She dragged her suitcases out from their resting places and began packing.

  §§§

  'About that book, Mr Ahuja,' the publisher said, sounding just this side of impatient. 'I need you to sign the contract so we can move forward.'

  'Yeah, sure,' Aalok muttered. 'Sure. I'll mail it to you. In a few days.' He hung up.

  The publisher was obviously not happy with the delay. She'd loved the book idea when Aalok's agent had shared it with her and she had sent over the contract soon after. They were tentatively titling it 'Romancing the Hinterland'.

  Aalok had a problem with their choice of title. He didn't like them calling it the hinterland. Tejopur wasn't the boondocks, for goodness sake, although it had taken him a while to warm to the place; most especially, though, he found the word 'romancing' very unfortunate.

  He got that the publishers wanted the book to sell, hence the sentimental title - for them, the bottom line mattered ultimately. He also understood how the title was inspired by his artistic interpretation of the lovely veiled ladies of Tejopur - Raji and her gang, and even Bindro, who had pouted when she thought she had missed all the fun, so he'd asked her to pose too. He understood all that. It was just that the word grated on his nerves.

  The title was one of the reasons why, after the initial few days of frenetic to-and-fro correspondence with the publishing house, he had shoved the printouts into a drawer, and now he couldn't bear to look at them again. The pictures were beautiful - outstanding even - his best work, if his agent, was to be believed.

  Aalok had been fine when he’d got back from Tejopur, beyond a simmering anger that he didn't understand. He had tried to rationalize it out of his system on the long drive home. What Mohini did with her life was entirely her business - why he had wanted to interfere, he couldn't say. What he wanted from Mohini, he couldn't say.

  Did he want anything at all from her?

  Aalok sighed. Even now, a month after his return, he couldn't say.

  Downing the contents of his glass, he poured himself another large one. Staring into the dark golden liquid, he swirled it occasionally as though hoping it would give up its secrets to him. Fat chance. He took a swallow, his mind going over the last month.

  He'd sold the studio on the second day after he'd returned even though his agent had protested. While Aalok was
away, once the cops were done with collecting evidence, Sikander had had the studio meticulously cleaned and so he'd thought getting rid of it was an extremely emotional, and a very imprudent move. The man had calmed down, though, when Aalok showed him the Tejopur photographs.

  The Tejopur photographs.

  Something about them bothered him no end. He rose from the couch, sluggish from too much alcohol and too little sleep. Walking over to his desk, he paused in the act of pulling open the drawer. It was late evening and he needed to eat before the alcohol incapacitated him. He had an appointment with somebody in the morning. He couldn't remember who with. Minor detail. Sikander would bring him up to speed before the meeting.