by Debashis Dey
Let’s ride across the hills,
and the plains and the meadows;
let’s ride through the forest,
between the light and shadows...
He looked at her and smiled. It was the same innocent and simple smile; the only baggage he had carried all along. From the day he first met her, from the fields, the meadows, the river, to this room with the fire. He gestured to her and she sat down. She listened to the music and her mind floated away. She could visualize the trees, the flowers, the green grass, birds, and the distant valley. She didn’t know how long she floated in the trance but keeping track of time was not important. She looked at him. He sat quietly gazing at the fire. Once again she couldn’t read anything except for the silent warmth he radiated. She looked around and saw the shadows dancing at a distance as if the predator was encircling the prey and could pounce at any moment. Then she realized it was just an illusion. She felt a strong urge to speak to him, to say anything to break the spell that threatened to overtake her. He looked at her, and as if he read her mind, he smiled and gestured for her to remain silent.
Once again she was taken aback. How could he understand her so well? She wondered what was going on in his mind. Here she was sitting next to him, a girl in her youth, attractive if not stunning, but definitely desirable, a girl with whom he had shared his dreams. But he remained calm like the mountains lost behind a wall of solitude, which she could not penetrate. Or was it that he said yes to the arrangement out of compulsion. And maybe she was just a placeholder in his dreams as she thought she was. She got worked up with her thoughts and finally concluded it was all her imagination and maybe there was no wall to penetrate. The only truth that engulfed her was his tenderness. And for the first time she realized that sex was not all that was important in love. They barely touched each other but it was as if they had made love. Once again she listened to the music and floated away.
Riding along the shoreline,
next to the sea deep blue—
with waves greeting us,
and spraying mist on you…
I shall take the reins
while you hold on to me,
we shall not slow down—
to the unknown—we would flee...
A mild wind blew into the room, the flames leaped a little and the shadows danced, kissed, and made love. She took his hand and covered it with her palms. She did it on impulse. She didn’t know if she did it to express affection or love or gratitude or simply to complement his warmth. Both sat until the last log burned, both sat in the inflammable ambience, in a world they themselves created, a world free of words, a world where silence painted love in vivid colors.
That night she saw a dream. In the dream, she rode a horse next to a sea with Pravin on the reins. They crossed the sea and entered a forest. After a while, she listened to the sound of a flute that came floating from the deep. They went closer and she saw Diwakar sitting below a tree smiling at them with a flute in his hand. He waved at them as they passed him.
In the days that followed, this became a standard ritual. At night, they both entered their small world, isolated and secluded, and both got intoxicated in each other’s company. They barely spoke or touched each other. Nisha left all her thoughts and worries behind and simply reveled in the time she spent with him next to the fire.
Sometimes they sat near the fire, sometimes near the window, and sometimes she simply watched him from the bed.
The mountains watched the spring that came dancing down to meet the river. It was close but took a parallel path and both ran down the slopes in unison complementing each other in their pace, swiftness and roll.
The snow melted, the sun remained longer, a few grasses peeked out of the soil with their young green blades, warm air blew across the peaks, a few birds returned. Parvati looked outside and a thin smile crossed her lips. Summer was near. She called Diwa and Nisha and asked them to check out the fields.
Diwa went to the village house first and checked everything. He came back and it was afternoon when they both left. On the way to the farm, they met village folk. Everyone knew about the marriage and blessed them. Both smiled and walked side by side across the river. The river was still narrow and the white sand on the exposed banks sparkled with the sun. The fields on both sides were still dark and wet with hints of green scattered here and there. The mountains stood tall as if waking up from a long slumber. The distant peaks faded away into a mysterious blue. They went around the field from one corner to the other.
Then Diwakar said, “Let’s go to the stream.”
Nisha nodded and both went to the stream and sat on a boulder. Diwakar took out his mobile and clicked on his favorite song. The stream ran below and the far side that did not receive the sunlight was still frozen. The glaciers were melting and the stream ran full-bodied, creating music and splashing on the rocks that came its way. The water was clear and they could see the round pebbles lying on its bed. A bulbul called out for his partner. In a flash, Nisha remembered the last time they had been there together. She remembered his dream, the snowfall, the swift kiss on her cheek, and how they held hands like children. And now, even as they sat next to the stream, she felt like she had every night as she sat next to the fire with him.
The rocks guarded the sun but a shaft of light escaped through a crack and fell on Nisha’s face. Both got lost in a different world of trees, flowers, birds, and bees. Only the song floated around them.
And when the sun comes down,
we will need some rest
sit below an age-old tree,
birds chirping in their nest...
The cool evening wind,
the last sunrays on your face—
your timeless innocent smile,
and your heavenly grace…
Nisha moved closer to him. Diwakar looked at her for a while and then brought his mouth close to her ear.
“May I kiss you?” he whispered.
“Why do you ask? You never asked me before.” She smiled and looked at him.
Diwakar moved back and looked down at the stream. True, he thought, I did not ask her last time. But that was different.
Nisha nudged him, as if waiting for an answer.
“Your happiness is important to me,” he said without looking at her.
Nisha listened and thought for a while. Nobody ever bothered about a woman’s happiness; it was the other way around. She looked at him and knew he was sincere. She thought for a while and said, “I am always happy with you. But I don’t know if you are happy. I just want to see you happy too. Tell me what you want from me that will make you happy.” She did not know what else to say and thought maybe now he would speak his mind.
“Just give me your pains. You can keep the pleasures.”
Nisha looked at him. His words touched the very core of her heart, her being. “Why do you say that?”
“Because that’s what will make me happy. I want to share your pains, your sorrows. I want to see you happy always.”
“If you want to see me happy, never ask again.”
“What?”
“What you asked in the beginning.”
Diwakar moved closer and kissed her cheek; he moved the few strands of hair and then kissed her ears, her earlobes. She felt goosebumps all over. He took her in his arms and kissed her forehead, her eyes, and then her lips, gently tasting her. She held on to him tightly and kept her eyes closed. She felt aroused and desired him intensely. They sat like that for a while and then he released her from his embrace.
“Now, I am happy,” she said and smiled at him. She was not sure if it was the truth or if he believed her, but that did not matter. For a moment, she really felt happy and blissful in his arms.
It was evening and both sat in the twilight. Nisha sat with her eyes closed, savoring the moment. She kept her mind closed and her thoughts away. She rested her head on his shoulder and held his hand while playing with his fingers. The song continued playing on the mobile.
>
When darkness spreads all over,
stars appear on the sky
You move closer to me,
shivering and yet so shy…
I shall get some woods,
while you start humming a tune,
and light up a fire small
watching the rising moon…
“Let’s go and sit next to the fire.” She rose up and pulled him. “Then I want to listen to your dream.”
“Which one?”
“The one you never completed. The one where I dance around the fire and you play the flute. I want to know what happens after the fire dies out.”
“Nothing, we both sleep,” Diwakar said with a smile.
“Now you are lying. I have also seen the dream.”
“Really? Then tell me what happens next.”
“I will tell you tonight,” she said and smiled mysteriously as if she had the key to some secret book.
It was getting dark and both stepped quickly on the way back. The wind was cold.
Far above, the mountains watched the river bend toward the spring and the streams surging closer to each other.
At home, Parvati noticed a change in Nisha. She had been watching her all along. She saw a hint of the lost glitter in her eyes. She smiled to herself and prayed to Devta for his blessings.
It was cold that night and Diwakar carried in a few more logs than usual. He lit the fire and kept the lid of the bukhari open. He rubbed his palms on the flames to soak up the heat. He played his song and kept the mobile next to the bukhari.
Nisha came in and found the room warm. She glanced at him once and went to the window while listening to the song.
The night will wake up soon
with a silvery moonlight spread
trees dark and tall,
hidden in a mystic shade…
You will smile at me,
and then get up to dance,
moving around the fire,
as if in a primitive trance...
She went to the bed and picked up a blanket. She placed it on the other side of the bukhari and gestured for him to sit there while she sat on the sheepskin opposite him. She felt hot and removed her jacket and topi and let her hair down. She wore a red kameez and a white salwar. The bukhari lid was open and the flames leaped out every now and then. In the light of the flame, Diwakar saw her and kept looking. He was lost in another world, in his dream. She was sitting out there, but in his mind, he saw her dancing. With the flames. Around the fire.
Time went back a million years—
distant drums filling the space,
the flames will join you...
putting colors on your face...
The trees will watch in wonder,
as you dance around,
stars will blink in awe...
even the moon will arch down...
“But I don’t know how to dance,” she said, smiling at him.
The spell broke and he returned his thoughts to the room. He saw her once again in the light of the fire. He desired her strongly. Both felt hot from the heat of the fire and he noticed beads of sweat on her face. He smiled and she came and sat next to him. Close. Almost touching. He could smell her hair, her sweat. The song played on…
And when the dance is done,
you will sit next to me,
I will be looking at you...
dark eyes filled with glee...
You will stretch on the grass,
below the mystic skies...
moonshine painting your dreams
while I kiss your eyes...
She listened. She knew the song was the inspiration of his dreams. She moved away slightly and sat facing him. The room was dark but he could see her clearly. She unhooked and removed her kameez. Diwakar watched her. Her face glowed in the orange light. Her long black hair flowed on both sides of her face partly covering her breasts. He could see them, not too large, not too small. Perfect. Her eyes remained fixed on the fire. He moved forward and closed the lid of the bukhari, trapping the flames inside. But the flames inside him burned intensely, tormenting him.
She stretched next to him on her back, removed the rest of her dress, and pulled him next to her. He lay down on his side, facing her with his head raised with one arm. She raised her head and brought her mouth close to his ears and whispered, “Now, don’t ask anything.” Then she closed her eyes, as if waiting for him to kiss them.
He kissed her eyes. Then the tip her nose. The lobe of her ears. He tasted her sweat, drank it from her cheeks, from her dimples, her neck. He touched her breasts, moist and warm, cradled them softly in his palm, and then kissed them gently, circling the nipples with his tongue. He pressed his cheeks against them, feeling her heart thumping below her ribs. He came back and kissed her lips, putting his tongue inside. She shivered and tried to keep still. He kept kissing her while his hand explored the hills, the meadows, the valleys, the ravine, and the gorge. And then he came back and rested his hand on the plateau that nested the small hollow of her navel, making small circles with his finger. He moved down and kissed her toes. Her ankle. Her calf. Soft, sweet, and short kisses. He kissed her knees, the soft inside of her thighs, the valley of pleasure, pausing there a bit, tasting her wetness. She shivered and stirred, feeling deeply aroused. And then he moved up. He was on top of her, crouching on his elbows. She pulled him close and guided him inside her. She felt her own wetness against him as he went deep inside her.
He slid his hands beneath her armpits and placed them below her head and raised her up. He kissed her, and at the same time, kept on with the motion plunging inside her, reaching the very depths of pleasure. It was as if the mountains inspired the rhythm with which their bodies responded. He was a natural lover. He was intense but not forceful, strong yet gentle, passionate and loving. As if she was a river and he sailed on it. He kept watching her every now and then and planted soft kisses. He was thrusting faster and faster, the rhythm increased, reached a crescendo and then he came inside her. She felt him shudder on top of her, she felt him move inside her, and then she felt him coming inside her and she came also. It was as if a tremor hit her. She felt a mind-numbing joy, and for a moment, she blanked out into a world of bliss. It felt like heaven, like the mountains, the valley, the river, the green meadows, the birds, the sky, the moon, and the stars. Only a few minutes had passed but it seemed like an eternity.
She enjoyed every moment of it and as he slid next to her, she kept a hold of him while he put his arm around her. The song ended but the tune still floated in the room. She listened to him breathing deeply and felt his heart thumping against her breast, slowly calming down. She kissed him.
She allowed her mind to ponder. She felt enriched, enriched by the knowledge and realization that there existed two women inside her, while one wanted to be pure and devoted to the only love of her life, to be a slave to her ideology, conforming to her values, the other wanted to indulge and get intoxicated in the forbidden pleasure that lured her. And she realized that she had to maintain a balance between the two. She could never allow both of them to meet except in due reverence; otherwise, she knew that there would be disaster as one would destroy the other. She also realized she herself had the key to her freedom, to her pleasure, and she could decide when to let which woman out.
The mountains watched as the spring met the river and the river guided it on its journey toward the ocean of perpetual bliss.
Chapter 20
In the weeks that followed, the ice melted and the fields were ready for sowing. Huge glaciers that formed on the peaks also melted. They fell on the meadows, near the waterfall and wherever they could make way across the slopes. Sometimes they came down with boulders, sometimes uprooting trees. Sometimes they made loud rumbling noises, scaring the cows and the dogs. The snow made the soil rich and fertile. The family shifted to the village. Parvati waited for the Bishu puja, as only after the puja could they sow the seeds. During the puja, each family made wheat breads, which the Gur o
ffered to the Devta for his blessings for a good harvest. The valley once again came back to life. Young greens appeared on the branches of oaks and poplars. The apple orchards showed signs of a fresh bloom. The grass grew tall on the side of the roads, riverbanks, and hills. Small yellow marigolds raised their colorful heads. The river regained its blue-green torrents; it grew in size and slowly expanded in its bed, expanding toward the banks, submerging the exposed rocks and boulders on its way. The wagtails, barbets, and finches returned and filled the ravine with chatter. The pines stood in all their majesty, glistening in the summer sun. The schools opened. The students got new books. The roads were repaired. A gate was put up to mark the entrance to the village. Shankar the Yak Bull groaned and roamed around with vigor, chasing every cow that came his way.
Parvati got busy and discussed a recital by Lamaji. She planned a green flag for the upcoming harvest. They could not afford another poor harvest, as already the stocks were running low. She planned to get two blankets woven from the wool she made and also to knit two pairs of socks for Nisha and Ria. She decided to ask Shevak to put in tiles in the toilet; to ask Chotu to buy her a new pressure cooker and a few rat traps; to ask Diwa to replace the fencing in the backyard; to get a new pair of shoes with a soft sole, like the ones she saw on Jayshree’s feet; to offer puja at the temple, for a grandson and a groom for Ria. She decided to visit the farmland soon, though Diwa and Nisha said it was not necessary. It was difficult for her to get out of the habit. There was nothing much to do at home except for cooking. She spent time reciting hymns and visiting the temple, neighbors, and relatives.