Sangita obliged at once to find herself knocked sideways by what followed. His tongue was relentless as he plundered every inch of her mouth with meticulous care.
She buried her face in his broad chest as they came up for air. She couldn't remember who she was, let alone where she was. She felt a sense of homecoming in Gautam's arms and she realised that she would be happy never to leave them.
She felt his body shudder against hers as he tried to bring his passion under control. She made a sound of protest as he put some distance between them.
“I know how you feel, sweetheart,” he dragged a thumb across her pouting, lower lip, reddened by his attentions. “Believe me, I feel the same. But there's only so much restraint I can exercise,” he said regretfully.
Sangita caught his meaning and instead of the blush he expected, her face paled significantly. She moved away to sag against the divan and bury her face in her hands.
Loving wasn't just kisses. More was expected of her. Sangita shuddered in revulsion. No way! She'd never allow a man to make use of her body. Never ever!
But Gautam's kisses? She delighted in them. Yeah, only the kisses. But would he remain satisfied with just that? Not a passionate man like Gautam.
“What's it, love?” He squatted on the carpet in front of the low divan and took her trembling hands in his.
Unshed tears shimmered in Sangita's eyes as she felt a sense of loss. She shook her head without uttering anything.
“Sangita.” Gautam tried to pull her into his arms. She wouldn't let him. “Damn it, Sangita,” he blew his top, “what now?”
She looked up at Gautam's eyes blazing with anger. Somehow, she didn't feel frightened. “You tell me,” she answered calmly. “Now that we're home, what's it you wanted to see me about?”
Gautam found it difficult to curb his temper and passion. How did she manage to be so cool after the passionate kisses they had shared? He had no idea that the memories of her late husband had chilled her ardour.
“Marry me.” Gautam dropped the bombshell, surprising himself. He hadn't planned on popping the question so soon. But now it was out, he realised that was exactly what he wanted to do—to make her his immediately. The woman he never wanted to part with and a son he already adored—the readymade family was what he needed right now.
“Are you crazy?” It had taken Sangita a few moments to ask the question as she had difficulty in finding the breath that had left her body in a 'whoosh'.
“Yeah,” he agreed calmly. “Yeah, I s'pose I am. About you. I wanna marry you and take care of you and Sandeep for the rest of my life.”
The picture he drew was one of bliss. She couldn't have asked for a better father for her son. And as a husband, he would be just fantastic. But Sangita had her inhibitions. She had been called 'frigid' too many times for her to accept that she might not be that in this particular guy's arms.
She couldn't do that to him. He was a passionate man and she would make him an awful wife. And what was she thinking? Gautam's wife? Had she gone crazy too? Her parents would never agree. Why, her mother would either kill her or die of embarrassment. What would the world say? A widow remarriage! Well, it was the twenty-first century, one side of her mind argued. But the neighbourhood she lived in and the family she came from had still not stepped out of the nineteenth.
Sangita shook her head hesitantly at first and then more firmly. No way would this marriage work. She'd never live down the hurt of being a disappointment to Gautam in bed. They'd end up hating each other and where would that leave Sandeep? Her slender frame shook as she came to the inevitable conclusion.
“No.” Her answer was flat, not showing any of the emotions boiling within her.
“What?” Gautam couldn't believe his ears. He had expected a lot of argument from her and was prepared to break them all down. But this flat monosyllable he couldn't swallow.
“May I know why?” Sangita heard his voice become cold through the dull ache in her head.
“Gautam.” His temper cooled down the moment he heard his name on her lips. She had a soothing way of uttering it that brought him joy.
“Yeah, darling?”
Sangita looked at him pathetically. “It would never work, Gautam. To begin with, there are my parents, then...”
“To hell with everyone,” the American accent was back again, strong. “What about you? Do you wanna marry me?”
She looked at him, hunger in her eyes. What she wouldn't give to be his wife? But, she shut her eyes in pain. She could imagine his disgust when he found out how useless she was in bed. Her resolve became firm.
“No.”
Again that flat, single syllable, with no emotion! A man had his pride. She didn't really expect him to go on his knees with a begging bowl, did she? Gautam stared at Sangita's expressionless face, her eyes closed. His brilliant eyes were dulled with pain. A long sigh wracked his body before he tried once again. “Is that your final answer?”
She nodded her head, not trusting her voice.
“Sangita,” she opened her eyes to look at Gautam's pale face. “Today was my last day at physiotherapy...”
“But you have one more week to go,” interrupted Sangita desperately.
He was gratified to see the look of loss in her eyes. He felt hope rising in him again.
“Dr. Sukumar pronounced me fit yesterday. I went in today just to try out a few more strenuous exercises to find out how fit I am.”
So that's why he had wanted to meet her. He wouldn't be visiting the hospital from the next day. She wouldn't get to see him again. The thought almost stopped her from breathing. She wanted to curl up into a ball at the corner of Gautam's divan and just die.
She looked at him, her eyes shimmering as a tear slid slowly down one pale cheek.
“So, that's it.” She put her hand out. “It's time for goodbye. It was wonderful knowing you.” Her voice broke on the last sentence as she buried her face in her hands and wept.
“Sangita,” her name was wrenched from Gautam as he rose to sit beside her on the divan, pulling her into his arms. He couldn't bear to watch her cry. “Don't, sweetheart.” He pressed her head against his shoulder, his hand rubbing her head rhythmically. “Please don't cry, you're breakin' my heart.” Gautam pressed his lips to her temple, trying his best to calm her down.
Sangita pulled herself together before raising her head from his shoulder. Gautam covered her lips in a kiss as he couldn't help himself.
“Please marry me, darling. I promise to make you very happy.”
She touched his hard jawline, unable to stop herself. “But I can never make you happy,” came the bitter reply.
“Let me be the judge of that.”
Sangita let out a shuddering sigh as she put some distance between them. Wiping her face with the end of her sari, she repeated, “No, Gautam.”
“Are you sure, Sangita?” Gautam studied her shrewdly. “We might never meet again.”
“Why not?” Sangita visibly paled. “My place of work and your home are in the same area.”
“So why didn't we ever meet before? I don't plan to break my bones again,” he insisted, taking sadistic pleasure in hurting her.
“Won't you come to see me some time?”
“And do what? Moon over you from a distance? Just forget it, will you? I'm not a teenager to get my thrill from worshipping you from afar or get my kicks out of holding your hand in the lift...”
“Stop it, Gautam. You're embarrassing me.”
“So I'm an embarrassment now,” Gautam deliberately misunderstood her as his voice turned into a nasty snarl. “So be it.”
“Please Gautam, let's be friends,” she pleaded.
“I don't need a friend. I need you, for my wife,” there was abject misery in his voice.
“You don't understand...”
“You're right,” Gautam interrupted bitterly, “I don' understan'! I can' understan' why a woman's ready to kiss me senseless one minute and reject my marriage proposal
the next. I just can' understan',” he repeated.
“Gautam!” Sangita tried to stop him from saying more.
“There's no meaning to this conversation. Please take me home, to my place.”
He stared at Sangita's face as the colour receded to leave it a pale oval. “Your answer's final?”
She nodded.
“I hope you don't live to regret it.” His voice, however, suggested the exact opposite. His features were rigid as he took a stern control over his surging emotions.
Sangita got up and followed him out of his room.
Ramanna's query of “Coffee?” froze on his lips as he caught the thunderous expression on the younger man's face.
Butterscotch rushed to greet the two of them as they stepped out into the sunlight. Sangita went on her knees to bury her face in the dog's neck as fresh tears gushed out of her eyes.
“Goodbye, Butterscotch.”
“That's enough,” Gautam's voice was savage. “You don't want the mutt to love you too much, do you? Not under the circumstances.”
Sangita got up with a jerk. “Please, Gautam, stop it.
“Stop what?” he lashed out at her. “Stop needing you? Stop wanting you? Just what do you want me to stop?” He banged a clenched fist against the bonnet of the car. The pain managed to bring about a semblance of calm. “Get in,” he ordered as he got into the driver's seat and revved the engine.
He waited for his grandparents' Maruti Zen to enter the gates before roaring out of them in a cloud of exhaust, much to their surprise.
“Please drop me at the Sunday market,” said Sangita in a subdued voice.
Gautam didn't respond as he turned the car in the direction she requested.
Sangita reached home, emotionally exhausted. She was glad to find Sandeep and Ramya busy watching cartoons. She couldn't have faced her son's chirpy questions just then.
12
It was the next Sunday, exactly one week after their bitter parting. Sangita stood on her terrace trying in vain to capture the mood of serenity that she usually felt during her Sunday morning ritual.
The sun was shining brighter than ever in the blue sky while the flowers of the flame-of-the-forest bloomed a fiery red. Tiny sparrows flitted across the cloudless sky, swearing to a freedom that was a distant dream for Sangita. She was a prisoner of her own thoughts that went round and round in tight circles over only one subject, Gautam.
Wherever she started, whichever way she turned, her introspection landed her at one point—Gautam. He seemed to have taken over her life—body, mind and soul.
A huge sigh broke out from the depth of Sangita's being. How she missed him! He hadn't contacted her since the day she turned down his proposal.
However much Sangita's logical mind understood his reasons, she couldn't help feeling hurt by his total rejection of her. He'd have made such a wonderful friend.
She felt as if a limb had been amputated maiming her for life. An irreparable loss!
Would he be feeling the same way, she wondered. Being a man, probably not, argued one part of her mind. But Gautam's different, insisted the other half.
Sangita was torn. The inaction was killing her, especially on Sunday. Work had kept her busy the whole week. But she had been on a short fuse, especially when Sandeep kept on asking her about Gautam.
Her son had repeatedly nagged her, like a needle prodding a festering wound. What fascination did the man have for her son? Had Sandeep also fallen for his fatal charisma as she had? Sangita shuddered at the thought. Her mind flitted around, looking for a way out. She considered the different options as she counted on the fingers of her right hand. Marrying Gautam was out of the question though that would have been the easiest. Being friends—Sangita grimaced as she recalled his reaction to the idea—was a no-no as things stood between them.
Should she explain to him about her marriage to Giridhar and make him understand why she couldn't marry him? That would be for the best. But did she have the mental strength to bare her soul to him, recollecting the pain and humiliation of her life with Giridhar? Maybe she could convince him that she was totally unsuited for a happy, married life. She was sure he'd agree to a friendship between them once he understood the reason for her refusing his proposal. She'd never have to live with this hell of not seeing him or speaking to him.
Now that she reached the decision, she wondered how she was going to execute it. She would need—at the least—a couple of hours with Gautam. The time was about nine in the morning. Sangita thought quickly while going down the staircase to her bedroom. Now that she had reached a conclusion, she wanted to act on it immediately.
She called Rithika and created an alibi. The other woman was only too glad to back her up. Sangita took her handbag and ran down to the ground floor, a lilt in her step. Not for a moment did she think that Gautam might not be home or may refuse to meet her.
“Manni,” she caught Rekha's attention and dragged her into the kitchen. Rekha was surprised to see the sparkle in the younger woman's gaze. She was aware of the marriage proposal and Sangita's rejection of it. She felt sorry that her sister-in-law had said 'no', but could well understand the other girl's reasoning.
“I'm going out to meet Gautam.” Sangita's voice was firm. “It might take a couple of hours. I've spoken to Rithika as I'm supposed to be visiting her. Please...”
“You don't need to explain further, dear. Go on,” Rekha gave her green signal with alacrity. She knew that if anybody could help Sangita have a better life, it was Gautam Sinclair. “I hope you're going to accept his proposal,” she added.
“Manni!” Sangita was shocked. “Of course not! You know why,” she said.
Rekha looked at her enquiringly as if to ask her why she was going to meet him in that case.
Sangita looked down at the floor. “I thought I'll explain to him about Giridhar and then maybe he won't ignore me anymore. I hope we can be friends,” she said, her voice unsure.
Rekha flashed a relieved smile at her sister-in-law. From what Rekha had heard about Gautam's character, he would never let go of Sangita once he got to know what she had undergone during her marriage to Giridhar.
“Excellent,” Rekha approved Sangita's decision. “I wish you luck!”
“Thank you, Manni,” said Sangita before she stepped out of the house through the back door.
Her heart beat hard, almost suffocating her as the auto-rickshaw reached the gates of Shraddanjali. Sangita paid the driver and walked through the gate. The exuberance with which Butterscotch greeted her seemed like a wonderful omen.
She went on her knees to hug the huge Labrador who licked her enthusiastically. Laughter bubbled from her throat, catching the attention of the man standing at the first-floor window, astonished at the unexpected sight.
“Yes, darling Butterscotch, I missed you too,” she said as she caressed his golden fur lovingly. She got up as the door opened and looked shyly at Gautam's grandmother. Sangita felt tongue-tied. She walked forward, encouraged by the welcoming look on Vimala's face.
“Hello, Vimala Maami, how do you do?”
“I'm fine, my dear. Come on in. It would make me happy if you call me Patti,” she said significantly as she guided the younger woman into the hall.
Sangita's face turned a fiery red on hearing Vimala's words. Ganapathi, who was sitting on the recliner, switched off the television as he saw the unexpected visitor.
Were they glad to see Sangita! Gautam had been impossible to deal with over the past week. All his love for his grandparents hadn't persuaded him to have his food on time. And he was a man who loved to eat. They'd been sorry to see him wasting away but quite unable to do anything about it. Even Ganapathi's persistent teasing which usually irritated or alternately amused Gautam had failed to bring him out of his apathy.
It was four days since he had been to college, the job he loved and had taken up out of choice despite the low pay. After all, he had given up a high-flying career as one of the directors of Sinclair A
ssociates, a company owned by his father Alistair, with its head office in Washington DC.
The old couple eyed Sangita gently. They could see the wear and tear on her pinched features too. “Will you have some lemonade or maybe coffee, dear?” asked Vimala.
“No, thank you. I...” Sangita hesitated. Her innate shyness wouldn't allow her to ask for Gautam outright.
“Why don't you go upstairs, Sangita?” encouraged Ganapathi with a kind smile. “You know Gautam's room. I'm sure he'd be thrilled to meet you.”
Sangita gave him a small nod before excusing herself and stepping on to the marble staircase.
Gautam turned away from the sight of Sangita hugging Butterscotch, his body wracked in pain. God! He was surely going crazy, seeing Sangita whichever way he turned. He could well comprehend why some people were desperate enough to commit suicide after a relationship failed. A lesser man would have probably done just that.
After a minute he turned again to look out of the window to see Butterscotch standing alone. He had been hallucinating! A bitter smile curled his lips. Some hope! His trembling hand sought the cigarette packet as he pulled one to light it. He dragged on it deeply, hoping it will calm him.
Gautam thought he heard a light knock on his door. He wasn't sure. He shrugged his wide shoulders within a blue T-shirt that hung lank on his frame as he had lost a lot of weight. He couldn't give a damn. He must have imagined it. Both his grandparents and Ramanna knew better than to disturb him. He had made it very clear that he wanted to be left alone in his misery. Only his threat that he'd leave for the United States had got his adoring grandparents off his back. At that moment, he didn't really care if he hurt them. He was sure that they of all people would understand that he would rather lick his wounds in private.
The knock was there again, louder.
Gautam spat out a profanity as he wrenched open the door and barked, “I thought I'd made it clear that I wanna be left alone...” The sentence trailed in mid-air as his shocked gaze met Sangita's.
She was shaken at the sight of Gautam's gaunt figure, a cigarette burning away in his right hand.
The Madras Affair Page 13