Despite the fever, Nila couldn’t contain her excitement. She told her about Benoir coming to her for good. She repeated again and again that she was no mistress.
‘Come home some time, Danielle, see how happy I am.’
Danielle had no interest in coming to witness Nila’s joy.
‘At least come to see me because I am ill? It could be typhoid.’
‘There’s no typhoid in this country; it must be something else. What’s the point of coming now, when you are sick? Get well and I’ll come one day to chat with you.’
Nila came to her senses. This wasn’t India where people dropped in on you when you were sick. Get well, get lively, overflow with life and I’ll come and drink some off you. And if you fall sick and die, I’ll come to your funeral in a black dress, drink to you and dance a little. That’s it.
Nila finished talking to her and opened the envelope that Sunil had left. She read Anirban’s letter first: ‘I suppose you can guess what I am feeling when Kishan told me everything. I am sure you are doing whatever you fancy in that foreign land, but one day you will come to your senses and then it’ll be too late. Many of your compatriots have shared your fate. So please change your ways when there is still time. If you do not want to resolve things with Kishan, come back home immediately. There is still time to mend your ways, come back to India and live a life that won’t have so many people point fingers at you.’ Nikhil’s letter was quite the same.
At seven Benoir called to tell her that he had gone to Rue de Rennes from his office. He was taking Pascale and Jacqueline out to dinner. He’d reach them back home, tell Jacqueline some stories, put her to bed and then come back.
Benoir returned home with a happy face. He had a happy little puppy with him, that looked like the stray puppies of Calcutta. There were two dogs in that house and he had brought the one that was more attached to him. The dog saw Nila, barked and jumped up on the bed. She raised her hand and said, ‘Take it off the bed; it’s messing up my bed.’ Benoir came running, ‘What are you doing.’ He hugged Wanda close, held up one of her paws towards Nila and said, ‘Shake my lover’s hand, Wanda.’ Nila welcomed the third member of her home.
Wanda was not a puppy. She was just small in size. These dogs were more expensive than the bigger dogs. Benoir undressed and came to bed like every other night, as he described in detail what were Wanda’s favourite foods, when she went out, what she liked doing and when she woke up. He kissed her and said, ‘Jacqueline didn’t want to let me go. I have told her about you. She wants to meet you.’
Benoir kissed her again, smiled and said, ‘Do you know what else she has said?’
‘What?’
‘She said she wants a brother.’ Benoir’s eyes were brimming with feeling, ‘Won’t you give her one?’
He placed Nila’s hand on his erect penis and said, ‘Let’s sow the seeds of dreams today.’
Nila was about to ask, ‘Whose dreams? Yours? Mine? Or Jacqueline’s?’ But she didn’t because she was scared he’d say, ‘Shame on you; you are so narrow-minded. You are jealous of a six year old?’
But she touched the erect penis and didn’t feel a wave of awareness. Her nipples didn’t rise to her lover’s touch or his kisses. Benoir said, ‘Get well and then we’ll do it.’
Nila was afraid to leave Benoir unsatisfied. If her body was the only attraction for him, then she wanted him to enjoy her and still love her. Nila held out her body for his gratification. Benoir sowed the seeds of Jacqueline’s dreams in it. Wanda jumped up on the bed and watched her master propagate.
He hid his face in her breasts and said, ‘Sorry, I came early.’
‘No, that’s okay.’
‘You are not upset?’
‘Why?’
‘Because you didn’t come?’
Nila smiled sweetly, ‘It’s just one day, it doesn’t matter.’
Benoir sat with a guilty look on his face until late in the night because Nila didn’t have an orgasm and he explained over and over, ‘Actually I’ve had a stressful week at work; probably that’s the reason, or because I have gone without it for a long time.’
The last statement brought relief to Nila. At least, she thought, he didn’t make love to Pascale after putting Jacqueline to bed. She was also taken aback to see a man so conscious of his partner’s sexual gratification. In India she had never heard of such an awareness. When she had sex for the first time with Sushanta, her lover, he had never asked her if she had felt the same exciting thrill that he had. Most people in India believed sex was mainly for the man and all that the woman would get out of it was children.
After three days of fever, Benoir took her to the doctor. He prescribed medicines for her and when Nila came home with the medicines, she saw the bottle was etched with trees and plants. Benoir explained that these were herbal medicines. These days no one, except fools, had any chemicals. People usually went for herbal treatment. Nila’s head started throbbing, not with the fever but with this revelation. In Calcutta she had seen the illiterate, uneducated people have these medicines, those who went to quacks, got cheated and died painfully. Nila, the champion of logic and reason in the Western world, was amazed to see that here people were looking elsewhere for succour; the eyes of the educated upper classes were turned towards the dark, irrational. She threw away those bottles when Benoir wasn’t looking. Nila’s fever subsided on its own in seven days.
Once she was better, Nila turned her attention to her new home. She cooked all day long, showered, dressed and waited for Benoir, her eyes and mind stuck on the clock. Then Benoir called to tell her that Pascale had invited him and he was going to her place for dinner—Nila shouldn’t wait for him.
‘But I have cooked many things for you.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me earlier! Now I have promised Pascale and I’ll have to go.’
Nila had to agree. After all, Pascale was his wife and she had more rights to Benoir’s time than Nila.
Nila drifted around the house, alone. Benoir had arranged the computer table to his liking with a few files and two framed photographs of Pascale and Jacqueline. Nila picked up Pascale’s photo and looked at it closely. She didn’t find her plain from any angle at all: red hair, shapely pink lips, sharp nose, high cheekbones, green eyes—Nila saw no reason for Benoir not to love this beautiful woman.
All day long Wanda had screamed the house down. Her master came home late, picked her up and crooned to her, ‘Oh sweetheart, oh my pet.’
Nila wasn’t asleep, but she pretended to sleep.
‘Oh, you are sleeping. Okay, I won’t disturb you.’
Nila acted like she’d just woken up and said, ‘Oh, it’s you! Have you just come back?’
‘It’s been quite a while. I didn’t wake you because you were sleeping.’
Nila glanced at the clock and yawned, ‘It’s pretty late; I couldn’t wait any longer . . .’
Benoir’s voice was fresh, ‘There were many bills at the house and I took care of them.’
Nila spoke sleepily, ‘You could have just stayed over.’
Benoir spoke as he took his shoes off, ‘I thought as much. But it was Pascale who said, go on, Nila must be waiting for you.’
Nila wasn’t sleepy now, ‘Why does she send you away to another woman? Does she love you or not?’
‘Of course she does.’
‘Then, doesn’t it bother her that you are living with me? I wouldn’t have been able to say, go to your other lover. How can she do it?’
‘She is a very good girl, Nila.’ Benoir was firm, ‘I haven’t seen a better woman in the whole world.’
‘Then why have you left her?’
‘You know why, don’t you? It’s for you.’
‘And what is your wish? Where do you want to live and with whom?’
‘I am doing just what I want to do.’ Benoir sat on the chair. He looked into Nila’s eyes. He sat in the dark and the light from the small bedside lamp was on Nila.
Nila said, ‘I f
eel you are still unsure about what you want.’
‘I have told you many times what I want. I have said I cannot live without you.’ Benoir’s tone was gentle.
‘Why won’t you live? Will you stop eating, sleeping, drinking or working? What in your life will come to a stop?’
‘Perhaps I’ll do everything, but it wouldn’t be the same. I’ll be like the living dead. Don’t you believe me? Don’t you know how much I love you, how much love it takes to leave a happy family and come away? I have never had a fight with Pascale. I told her all about you and she has accepted it; I didn’t hide anything from her. She is my best friend, Nila. She loves me very much and because she loves me, she doesn’t stop me from doing what I want to do. Have you seen a greater sacrifice for a loved one? Only Pascale can do it. I love her and respect her. I have left the people I love the most, my Pascale and my Jacqueline, all for you and that doesn’t make you happy?’
Nila held up a book in front of her eyes. Benoir’s voice was harsh, ‘Keep that book away, I can’t see your eyes.’
‘Why do you have to see my eyes?’
‘I am talking to you. Answer me. Aren’t you happy that I have left my wife and daughter and come to you? Tell me.’
Nila kept the book in front of her face and said, ‘Why do you say you have left them? You haven’t. She is still your wife. You talk on the phone everyday and you go to her often. This is not leaving. The ring symbolizing your love is still on your finger, her photo is on your desk.’
Benoir got up, sat in front of Nila, snatched away the book with his left hand and said, ‘Tell me what you want! Do you want me to go back there?’
‘If you want to go, sure. I won’t stop you. I didn’t ask you to come here. You came on your own. When you were in that house, our relationship wasn’t bad. Where’s the difference?’
Benoir heaved a sigh and said, ‘If it was another man in my place, he’d have said there’s work pressure, a meeting or a working dinner and so he was late. I don’t hide anything and tell you the truth. This is how you reward it? I can’t understand why you are so narrow-minded, Nila.’
Nila spoke calmly, ‘My mind isn’t narrow, it’s quite broad and that’s why I’m telling you to go and stay with Pascale. Live happily with her, the way you always did. You haven’t left her. You’ll never leave her and you know why? Because you love her.’
Benoir pressed his elbows down on his knees and lowered his head onto his hands.
Nila placed a hand on his shoulder and said, ‘I know you tell the truth. And I feel for Pascale. If you were my husband and you left me for another woman, I can imagine how much pain I would be in. Don’t make her suffer any more. Don’t give yourself so much pain. I will suffer a little when you go but I am used to it. My mother was also used to suffering.’
Benoir got up and switched on the bright lights. Nila’s heart thumped loudly; any moment now he would start packing his suitcase. Any moment now her only succour would walk out, leaving her alone. Benoir sat on the bed, facing Nila and said, ‘Tell me honestly, do you really mean these things? Do you really want me to go away?’
Nila didn’t answer.
Benoir smiled. ‘I know you don’t mean them. You can’t. You love me and you don’t want to lose me.’
A lump of misery came and lodged itself in her throat. Nila bit her lips and tried to swallow it. Benoir hugged her close and swayed, right and left, saying je t’aime, je t’aime, je t’aime.
Nila knew what it was to be alone. If Benoir left she’d trip over her own shadow in that house. No one would hug her, hold her or say je t’aime. Her lover was surrendering himself to her; she, at least, didn’t have the strength or the courage to push him away.
Benoir said, ‘The day I threw your book and left, I thought our relationship was over. I even said sorry to Pascale. But every time I imagined my life without you, I felt stifled. You are my life Nila. That’s when I knew. I knew that we were created for one another. I had wanted to kill myself. I even toyed with a knife. Then Pascale took me to a doctor.’
‘What kind of doctor?’
‘Psychiatrist.’
Nila was aghast. She untangled herself gently from his embrace, looked into his lowered eyes and asked, ‘The doctor advised you to come here with Baudelaire’s books and one rose?’
Benoir smiled bitterly. ‘Do you think I didn’t want to come here, that I came here because the doctor told me to?’
Nila was afraid, perhaps one day the doctor would say to Benoir, ‘Go and live happily with Pascale,’ and that’s exactly what he would do.
Benoir asked, ‘What’s the matter? Do you think I am not stable enough?’
Nila laughed. ‘Not at all. I think I am crazy and I need to see a doctor very soon.’
‘Why, what’s wrong with you?’
Nila said, ‘I feel short of breath quite often.’
Benoir woke Nila slowly and whispered in her ears, ‘Do you want to go some place with me?’
‘Where?’
‘Tell me if you want to go first.’
‘At this time of the night?’
‘Yes. If you agree, I’ll take you there right away.’
‘All right. Now tell me where.’
‘To the seventh heaven.’
Benoir took her to the seventh heaven; she flew like a feather. Nila thought no one would ever be able to give her the pleasure that Benoir gave her.
She imagined her future in Benoir’s harem and felt contented.
Their tour of the seventh heaven ended and so did the night. Nila’s tired body had hardly drowned itself in sleep when Benoir’s alarm clock dragged them up. Wanda jumped up on Nila and she shot off the bed. With the horrid smell of the dog in her nose and the radio yelling away in her ears, Nila flew to the fourteenth heaven in an instant. She made coffee for Benoir and set the bread, butter and jam on the table. He just sipped the coffee and rushed off.
‘What’s the hurry?’
‘I have to take the metro.’
‘Why? Where is the car?’
‘Oh, I didn’t tell you. I gave the car to Pascale; she’ll use it.’ Benoir’s tone was calm and collected.
Nila set the water on the boil for her tea and asked, ‘What will you use?’
‘The metro and buses for the time being.’
‘And later?’
‘Actually, Nila, I prefer the metro and buses. You know how difficult it is with a car in Paris; parking is hell and you get a ticket for every little thing.’
Nila nodded. She knew where the problem was. She clicked her tongue and said, ‘So Pascale will have a bad time with the car.’
‘She needs it more than I do. She has to drop Jacqueline to school and pick her up again.’
‘Oh.’
Benoir threw her a sarcastic glance, ‘I guess you are not happy to hear this?’
‘You have told me and I have heard. That is all. There’s nothing to be happy or unhappy about.’
Benoir pulled on a T-shirt over his blue jeans. He seldom wore ties or shirts. He said he’d wear the shirts Nila gave him when they went out somewhere. The ties lay unused. The eau de cologne too. He wore Aramis because that was the name of one of the three musketeers.
He doused himself in perfume and stood before Nila and said, ‘Listen carefully: I have told you before that although I have left Pascale, I have to bear her expenses. She was not able to give Jacqueline enough time because of her work and so I had asked her to quit her job in Strassburg. So she did. I have to pay for the expenses of that establishment. Pascale and Jacqueline are entirely my responsibility; is that clear?’
It was.
She wanted to say, ‘I don’t work either. Who is responsible for me?’
But she reined in the words yet again.
After Benoir left, Nila went into the study and picked up J.M. Coetzee’s Disgrace. The title of the book drew her; she hadn’t read anything by the same author. As she read, her glance slipped to Pascale’s photo again and again.
She fixed her gaze on the book, on every letter in it and finished nearly half the book when she realized her mind was on Pascale and not on the book. She went to the balcony and took some deep breaths. She wasn’t living with Benoir alone, she was living with his whole family; it was too crowded.
Benoir called, ‘Have you fed Wanda?’
‘No.’
‘Why?’
‘It slipped my mind.’
‘What do you have on your mind these days! Anyway, feed her the way I have told you . . . she’s a small dog and . . .’
‘And what? I am jealous of her too?’
‘No. I thought she must be suffering.’
Nila hung up and poured out three kinds of food from three cans into the bowls in front of Wanda and filled the water cup with water.
She went to the balcony again and breathed deeply.
A little later Benoir called again and asked, ‘Did you feed her?’
‘No.’ Nila’s tone was cold.
Benoir sounded worked up, ‘Why?’
‘I didn’t because I have eaten up all her food.’ Nila sounded cool and normal.
‘What are you saying?’
‘I am telling you the truth. I come from a poor country and I’m not used to giving such good food to pets; we don’t get to eat such things ourselves. I couldn’t help myself; I ate it up.’
Click.
Along with the telephone’s click there was the sound of breaking glass. Nila went to check what it was about and she found Wanda standing on the desk, wagging her tail and Pascale’s photo frame lay in pieces on the ground. Nila didn’t pick it up. She left it like that and walked out. She bumped into the police, taking out a corpse from the flat next door. It was Madame Suzanne Duget’s. Nila and Madame Duget used to wish each other bonjour whenever they met on the stairs. One day Suzanne had taken the conversation further and asked her if it bothered her that she listened to music until late in the night. Nila had said it didn’t bother her at all. Madame Duget told her that it was impossible to while away her time if she didn’t have music to see her through. Nila spoke to the police and found out that Suzanne had lain there, dead, for a few days. The concierge got a bad smell when she came to clean the corridor and called the police. They broke the lock and found Suzanne’s decomposed, swollen corpse. Nila looked at Suzanne’s deformed face and shuddered. She leaned against the walls with her eyes closed for a long time before running out into the George Brassein Park, beside the lake and lying face down on the grass.
French Lover Page 27