The Madras Affair

by Sundari Venkatraman

  “A heartwarming tale of a woman who rises from the ashes of a torturous marriage to recreate her life and reclaim her self-respect. A heroine to cheer for, a hero to die for, and a story that races along to a delicious conclusion...Kudos to Sundari Venkatraman for her success in blending social relevance with a riveting tale of love and hope.”

  —Usha Narayanan

  SUNDARI VENKATRAMAN

  Published in 2015 by Kurious Kind Media Private Limited

  www.readomania.com

  email:support@readomania.com

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  © Copyright Sundari Venkatraman

  Sundari Venkatraman asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this book.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, or actual events or locations, is purely coincidence.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted (including but not limited to photocopying, scanning, cyclostating) or stored (including but not limited to computers, external memory devices, e-readers, websites etc) in any kind of retrieval system without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  ISBN: 978-81-929975-7-5

  Typeset in Palatino Linotype By Solution Graphics

  Printed in Delhi

  India has traditionally been the land of storytellers and a lot of us have an inherent skill of creating good plots, good stories and good narrations. With a little encouragement and support, many more authors will be widely read and attain a place in the sun.

  This is the essence of Readomania—an initiative that nurtures emerging stars of the literary world.

  It would not be an exaggeration to say that Readomania is the talent hunt in fiction. It goes a step beyond by not just identifying the talent but also nurturing it and showcasing it to the world. In the process, we have created a powerhouse of content online.

  Readomania is a publishing platform, with online and offline presence, for good writing; a place to share stories and poems; a place to explore your creative talent. The web platform is a unique place for people who love reading and writing. As authors, one can register, or login through social media sites and upload their work, which then gets reviewed. The review process includes copy and developmental editing, improving the plot, narration or word choices. If authors are promising but need aids in language enhancement or storytelling capabilities, we work with them to improve their work. This hand-holding and personalised attention is what makes us unique. We stand out in the crowd because we will walk the talk to make an author's work readable. Finally the work is published on the site. Once published, people can read it for free, share it on social media, email it, rate it, vote for it and even leave their feedback. This helps the author get critical feedback to improve their writing as well as encouragement to write more. We publish the best of the authors in our anthologies, projects and finally graduate them to the status of solo authors.

  The site also has a lot in store for the reader. Since the content is edited and curated, readers get quality reads on a platter. The variety on Readomania is impressively vast; we have romance, emotions, thrills, travel, humour and drama. You will find stories that touch your heart, stories that inspire you, stories that make you laugh and stories that make you cry.

  Accessing Readomania makes for a perfect break of fifteen minutes from your daily grind. Read a story and unwind.

  Take a break, read something nice, write something beautiful. Visit us at www.readomania.com and enjoy a whole new world of literature.

  This one is for Pooja & Mukesh Gursingh

  About the Author

  Growing up on a heavy dose of fairy tales and comic books, Sundari fell in love with the 'lived happily ever after' syndrome. It was always about good triumphing over evil and a happy end.

  Soon, into her teens, Sundari graduated to Mills & Boon romances. And that got her thinking—how about such breezy romances in Indian settings? Her imagination took flight and she always lived in a rosy cocoon of romance over the years.

  Then came the writing—a true bolt out of the blue! While her spoken English had always been excellent—thanks to her Grandpa—she couldn't write to save her life.

  All this changed suddenly one fine day in the year 2000. Sundari had just quit her job as a school admin and didn't know what to do with her life. She was saturated with simply reading books. That's when she returned home one evening after her walk, took some sheets of paper and began writing. It was like watching a movie that was running in her head—all those years of visualising a perfect Indian romance had to be put into words. The dormant romantic storyteller in her finally found its calling and The Malhotra Bride was born.

  In the meanwhile, she landed a job as copy editor with Mumbai Mirror. After working there for two years, she moved to the Network 18 Group and worked with two of their websites over the next six years, as content editor.

  Despite her work schedule, she continued to write novels and short stories and had them published in her blogs. She also blogs voraciously, writing on many different topics—travel, book reviews, film reviews, restaurant reviews, spirituality, alternative health and more.

  Her first book Double Jeopardy—a romance novella was very well received by readers of romance. In 2014, Sundari published The Malhotra Bride (2nd Edition); Meghna; The Runaway Bridegroom; Flaming Sun Collection 1: Happily Ever Afters From India (Box Set) and Matches Made In Heaven (a collection of romantic short stories).

  Sundari Venkatraman can be contacted through her website www.sundarivenkatraman.com and through www.facebook.com/AuthorSundariVenkatraman

  Acknowledgements

  To my husband Venkat

  Thank you for putting up with my strange timings, my emotional ups and downs during my writing journey. Thank you for egging me on whenever I wanted to give up.

  To my sisters—Suja, Jayu, Sabi & Lak

  You are my support system. Thank you for all the encouragement. Especially Jayu and Lak—thank you for reading every little para of every version that I have written.

  To my children—Vinitha & Vignesh

  Thank you for encouraging me at every step of my writing journey, for being the best.

  To Rubina Ramesh

  Without you, my books would still be on my blog. Thank you Rubina! It's because of you that I am a published author today.

  To Devika Fernando, Inderpreet Kaur Uppal, Nikita Jhanglani & Sumeetha Manikandan

  Thank you for your valuable inputs after beta reading The Madras Affair.

  To Nilima Mohite

  Thank you for keeping me grounded during the wait for The Madras Affair to take shape. and for keeping me busy while you created my website.

  To Readomania

  Thank you for bringing my writing to a whole new level. Thank you Readomania for making my dream come true.

  To Indrani Ganguly, Editor of The Madras Affair

  Thank you for patiently reading my book so many times and doing a perfect job of editing it.

  To Dipankar Mukherjee

  Thank you for your patience and your vision. The Madras Affair has taken its final shape today thanks to you.

  To the Almighty

  Thank you for wanting to experience writing through me!

  1

  The TTK Auditorium in Chennai exploded with thunderous applause as Sangita Sinclair took the podium. Mike in hand, she patiently waited for the audience to settle down. The head of Penn Urimai—an NGO for battered and downtrodden women, especially housewives—Sangita had come a long way over the past decade.

  The claps came to an end, finally. Sangita smiled as she caught sight
of the four people in the front row, sitting towards her left. They were the last to stop applauding, her close-knit family. There was her husband, Gautam, his blue eyes glowing with pride. Sandeep, her first born, was a strapping young man of nineteen. His dark eyes were focused on his mother, while his hand held his father's in a tight grip. Gina and Sam were thirteen and ten respectively, just beginning to understand the impact of their mother's work. They were very excited being part of the award function.

  “Good evening my friends!” A pin could have been heard dropping as Sangita began her speech that lasted for exactly twelve minutes. The passion in her voice struck a chord with those present, more than the words she uttered. To say that her short speech inspired many in the audience was an understatement.

  A spontaneous, standing ovation greeted her as she finished speaking. Sangita accepted the large bouquet and medallion presented to her, her eyes bright with the sheen of unshed tears, her heart overflowing with gratitude towards the man who had made it all possible, the man who was her husband.

  She walked down from the stage, her eyes on Gautam as he nodded his head in appreciation. Sangita went and sat next to him, surrounded by her three children.

  The programme continued for another fifteen minutes before everyone rose for the National Anthem. A number of people wanted to meet Sangita. With a smile here and a nod there, she kept the talk brief, mindful of her waiting family.

  A young lady approached her and shook her hand, “Hello Sangita Ma'am, I'm Aarti from a website called Women's Freedom. It would be an honour to interview you. I hope you'll be able to make time for it.”

  Sangita nodded at Aarti before saying softly, “Sure.” She handed the younger woman a visiting card. “Call me tomorrow.”

  “Err...ma'am, will it be alright if I send you my questions by email?” asked Aarti, checking the card to see if it mentioned an email ID.

  Sangita nodded again and said, “Of course,” before taking her leave.

  The five of them left the auditorium; Gautam's arm secure around Sangita's shoulders. While an innate shyness stopped Sangita from indulging in a public display of affection, it never stopped her husband from behaving exactly the way he pleased. He loved his wife and never hesitated to show it at every opportunity.

  “You're simply superb, my love,” he whispered in her ear, sending goose pimples down her body. Sangita gave him a searing look that spoke volumes. Gautam's body tightened in response as he hugged her closer, giving her a brief kiss in the car park.

  They got into the car to go to the Golden Dragon at Taj Coromandel, their favourite restaurant, for a noisy, family dinner. There was so much to catch up with Sandeep, who lived in Pennsylvania nowadays, a student at the state university. Gina and Sam couldn't get enough of their elder brother's attention.

  It was quite late when they reached Shraddanjali, their bungalow in Besant Nagar.

  Later that night, Sangita shut her laptop and turned around to see her husband still working on his. Her eyes glowed with love for him. Even after knowing him for fifteen years, she felt her heart melt every time he looked at her. Gautam seemed to sense her gaze and turned around to look at her, a smile on his face, the dimple on his right cheek prominent. “Are you done?” he asked, stretching his arms over his head.

  “Hmm,” she said, walking up to him. She put her arms around his waist and rested her head on his chest. “And you?”

  “With you holding me like this, you really think I wanna work?” he asked, pressing his lips to the top of her head, his arms going around her.

  Sangita giggled like a little girl, snuggling closer. “Love me,” she whispered, pressing her lips to his chest, pulling at the buttons on his T-shirt. Gautam didn't need a second invitation. He lifted her in his arms and walked towards the bed.

  The next day, Sangita opened her email to find a questionnaire from Aarti. She downloaded the document and perused it. Her eyes stopped at the third question. Aarti had asked, “I have noticed that NGOs that are successful are usually driven by passionate people. And that level of dedication occurs from their life experiences. Is there any particular incident from your life that inspired you to set up your NGO for downtrodden women? Especially those that don't get help from the law?”

  She had a valid question there, thought Sangita. Her passion for Penn Urimai indeed stemmed from her own experiences. She got up to make herself a cup of coffee, not wanting to disturb the cook as he was preparing lunch. Walking out into the garden, Sangita sat on the grass to relish her coffee, enjoying the light warmth of the early morning sunrays in the cool weather. Her thoughts went back to her life before Gautam...

  2

  1995...

  Sangita crooned softly to the sleeping baby in the cradle. Her face glowed with motherly love in the soft radiance from the night lamp.

  Three-month-old Sandeep was fast asleep with his left thumb stuck firmly into the rosebud of his mouth, totally unaware of the turmoil in his mother's heart. He whimpered in protest as Sangita tried to remove his little thumb. He wriggled his small body into a more comfortable position, tucked his thumb resolutely into his mouth once again and went back to sleep. She smiled at her son's cherubic face. “Determined little brat,” she scolded him softly.

  Sandeep had become the pivot of her very existence since even before he was born. She loved him with all the affection she was capable of. Tears dampened her chocolate-brown eyes when she thought of Sandeep's father, her husband Giridhar. She wiped a hand violently over her eyes, trying in vain to stop the flow that was soon becoming a flood.

  What had she ever done to deserve such a husband? She wondered. Why had he married her when it was obvious that he didn't care for her at all? Sangita moved away from the cradle, not wanting her desperate sobs to disturb the sleeping infant.

  Sometimes she wondered whether she had married a human being at all. An animal, that's what Giridhar was. But she was sure that even animals treated their own kind with more compassion.

  Her wedding night came back to haunt her. Giridhar had ravaged her on that night which is such an important event in a young woman's life, especially one who had saved her virginity for her husband.

  Sangita shook her head impatiently as she stared out of the balcony of their second-floor apartment. A small sliver of a moon was shining weakly down on the earth, while the stars winked at her. She wondered if they found her dilemma amusing. They were too far away to comprehend her pain. She smiled bitterly up at them, “Go on and wink all you want. Even I might find the situation funny if I were up there among you,” she whispered.

  Yes, Sangita conversed with the sun, the moon, the stars and her diary. The only human being whom she spoke with animatedly couldn't reply to her words. Not yet.

  While her husband had raped her body, her parents had ravished her very spirit. They were unable to understand that Giridhar was doing his best to break down her will, though without much success. Not having any close friends, Sangita had turned to her parents for support only to have the door shut on her face.

  She had run back to them the morning after her horrible wedding night, only to be handed over to her evil husband as if she were an object rather than a flesh-and-blood person. “A woman's place is with her husband, Sangita. She has no respect if she stays away from him. Living with her parents or brother is fine only until she's married. But after that her place is with her spouse,” lectured her mother.

  'Even if he abused her body on their wedding night?' Sangita's mind screamed. She never voiced her question. What was the use?

  She put up with her husband's sexual advances while thanking the unknown Rosy who kept them to the bare minimum by her own demands on him. Pregnancy had been a refuge from his revolting touch when she lied to him that the doctor had advised her against sexual intercourse. The fool had swallowed the lie, not being interested enough to accompany her for any of the check-ups.

  Sangita had been extremely grateful to God that she didn't have to suffer his touch
during her pregnancy. However, that didn't stop Giridhar from lashing her with his tongue. The tantrums he threw increased day by day, more because the insults bounced off her like water off a duck's back.

  But it was not long before Giridhar again ravaged her body and soul.

  Sangita had been sitting on the cot that she now considered her own while Giridhar slept either in the other room or at Rosy's flat a few buildings away. Baby Sandeep was on her lap suckling at her breast. She had been caressing his dark curls while he gurgled, his chocolate-brown eyes shining up at her.

  “Sweetheart, you're so handsome,” she crooned to the baby.

  Sandeep removed his mouth from her teat to give her a toothless grin.

  Giridhar walked in on this loving, domestic scene and rage boiled in his body. He had returned home some time back. When Sangita did not respond to his calls many times, he had followed the gurgling noises into the bedroom.

  The sight that met his bloodshot eyes tightened his loins. He didn't have a great opinion about Sangita's beauty. She was but an available convenience.

  But...Giridhar stared at her bared breast. It was rounder and fuller than before, the golden-brown aureole shining from Sandeep's nursing.

  He was livid. This was what she'd been denying him, her husband. A menacing growl broke out from him as he walked forward, his gaze pinned on her bare breast, animal lust in his eyes.

  A fine tremor shook through Sangita's slender body when she noticed her husband at the bedroom door. Totally involved with the baby, she couldn't make out what had caught his gaze. The moment she realised that he was staring at her bare breast, she jumped out of the cot to turn away, covering her body with her sari. She placed Sandeep in the cradle in a hurry and stood there shaking, hoping that her husband leave the room. She rocked the cradle gently, hoping that his father's presence wouldn't disturb the baby.