by Anubha Mehta
“How can I leave you, you wild, bewitching Maya!” he hissed.
His lips were hot. Between each burning caress, as I gasped for air, he synchronized his next kiss, more urgent than before.
I knew that these kisses would not be enough. His square shoulders caved in as he gently wrapped his muscular arms around me. I stopped protesting. I couldn’t restrain him anymore, or myself. My anger had turned into something else. A small murmur escaped my lips. I felt his heart racing. Or was it mine? I couldn’t tell us apart. His body scent of musk, sand, and sweat was gripping. A fresh rush of warm blood filled my cheeks. He slid his hand down my blouse and kissed me again. My body ached for him and he did not let go.
Holding hands, we walked straight into the tart beckoning waves. Veer was holding me firmly on the unsteady sand. I stumbled. And before I could fall he scooped me up smoothly in his arms. I pulled his shirt upwards and his hard chest brushed against my breasts, arousing me more. The deep water couldn’t cool our sizzling. So he lifted my legs around his body and pierced me. We were one. We swayed under the elements: the sky, waves, earth, and wind. We became the elements, laughing till the rising waves had cooled us down.
The menacing splinter of desire had made its way deep into our hearts. If this was love, then yes, we were in love, completely and irrevocably. At that moment, I had no doubt.
***
It was a lazy morning. I took my time rising from the crumpled sheets. My mind recalled the wicked temptations of last night. This was a new discovery for me.
I extended my hand to Veer’s pillow, but he was not there. The balcony smiled over the lush green garden and the seamless crystal turquoise beyond. The waves were consoled, but the sun was still roasting the shimmering sand below, and the palm leaves were swaying in the mounting, warm breeze.
It was definitely past morning. Just as I dissolved into the enormous goose cushion of the cane settee, Veer entered with a bouquet of red roses. I felt like the luckiest girl in the whole world. My fears and anxieties had been suppressed by a brand-new confidence that we would make it. I wanted to tell him how much I loved him, but he did not give me a chance. His lips were on mine in an instant.
But this time there was something different. His kiss was insistent, urgent, unsure. It was rough, and as the seconds flew it became almost domineering, suffocating. I gasped for breath and pushed him back. “Veer! Stop!”
He sat down on the chair opposite me. The same withdrawn face of our wedding night was back, the same coldness. The rollercoaster of emotions that I was riding was slicing the sky and about to plunge hard on the ground. I was falling. “What is the matter, Veer?”
He didn’t answer.
“Okay then, I’m going for a walk.”
I wanted to leave him to deal with his thoughts. I had no wish to get into a row with him. I had picked up my hat and slipped on my sneakers when I heard his voice whip across the room.
“Don’t go.”
“What?”
“Don’t go anywhere.”
“I just want some fresh air, Veer. I will be back soon.”
“No, Maya.”
“What’s wrong, Veer?’” He walked up to me, took my arm and pressed his fingers into my wrist. I could see the redness of his eyes. My arm tingled with numbness.
“Veer, stop. You are hurting me.”
“Promise me, you will not walk out on me.”
I didn’t know what to say. His behaviour was bizarre. His eyes were pleading like that of a child longing for his favourite toy. “Veer, have you gone mad?” This had to be another of his pranks. I shrugged my arm loose from his grip and sat down on the floor to face him.
“Maya, just promise.”
“Of course, I will leave you! As soon as I can!” I teased.
“Maya!”
No, this was not one of his pranks. I knew now.
“Say it!”
“Okay, okay, I won’t,” I blurted and ran out to the balcony with tears streaming down my face.
It took me a few minutes to turn around and look at him again. He was fiddling with the TV remote. He had the look of a child who had just won a tantrum, laughing at something on the screen.
Was this the “mood” that Kitty and Minnie had alluded to?
Everything seemed to be back to normal now. Except my euphoria was over.
7.
“SIR, YOU ARE JUST IN TIME for afternoon tea, Madam is expecting you in the parlour,” was Bahadur’s way of welcoming us back.
Veer’s mother looked up from her pink bone china cup. “All well?” she asked Veer, as we both greeted her with a peck on each cheek. She gestured to the spread of cucumber sandwiches, lemon tarts, and scones served with cream and jam. Sitting next to her was a slightly chubby girl looking out of the stained-glass window.
“Esha! What are you doing here?” Veer exclaimed excitedly. “Maya, come and meet Kitty Auntie’s daughter, a brilliant scholar at the Delhi School of Art, and my favourite cousin sister!”
“Oh, you only say that now when there are no other cousins around,” Esha teased back. Then her face lit up as she saw me. It was a rare moment to get such a warm reaction from one of Veer’s family members, and I was grateful for it. Esha looked much younger than her age, with a high ponytail and round spectacles. She was wearing ankle boots with silver studs over baggy pants and a sweatshirt. It was such a refreshing change in this house where everything always seemed so formal. I remembered seeing Esha in the group of other cousins on our wedding night.
“Hey, Maya, you look cool!”
I hugged her.
“So, what’s up, kiddo?” Veer asked.
Esha’s eyes glowed with excitement. “Come, Maya and Veer, I want to show you your wedding present.” She pulled Veer by his hand toward the open window.
“Noooo, you don’t have to give us anything Esha. It’s not…” Veer stopped mid-sentence. His back stiffened and I knew that something extraordinary had captivated him. I followed him and froze too.
There, spread out on the hedge, was an outrageously spectacular blue-green tail. His turquoise plumage shimmered in the departing evening rays. “Oh my God! It’s a peacock!” I cried.
And trailing in his shadow was his peahen, blissfully camouflaged in his magnificence. As if ready for his performance, the emperor hopped from the short shrub branch onto the ground, the light playing on his vibrant hues: indigo, emerald, gold, scarlet. He opened his fan and strolled out onto the sprawling lawns with his devoted peahen swooning behind him. We quivered in the grandeur of this spectacle.
It was too good to be true. My longing for peacocks had flown from the weaves of my wedding gown to fill our new life with colourful verve. It was as if the coming of the peacocks was symbolic of my welcome into this new life, as if the peacock and I were one.
Esha was by our side now. “Just remember the joie de vivre of your life together every time you see these birds.”
“And when we see them, we shall always think of you, Esha. Thank you!” I added, as she bade us farewell.
We watched fascinated as the peacocks made their home near the lily pond.
And, for the next few months, Veer was at peace, strutting around like the peacock as long as I hovered around like his peahen, joining him in his little pleasures of feeding the morning birds or playing games with him at night.
Every morning, Bahadur filled a stainless-steel bucket full of fresh seeds and worms for Veer to feed the birds with. And every afternoon, Sheila visited me to make sure that I had everything that I needed. Then she checked with Bahadur whether her instructions about little things like changing the evening sheets, or preparing my jasmine bath, were being carried out properly and on time. And while Veer was at work, I spent long summer afternoons discovering different sections of this huge, cold, and strikingly beautiful mansion, Veer’s house and m
y new home. Every alcove and corner revealed past lives lived in opulence. But most of all I liked sitting under the towering grandfather peepal tree just outside our veranda with a new stack of dusty books borrowed from the East wing library.
Our living area was spacious, indulgent, and quiet. On moonlit nights, we sat on the edge of the shimmering lily pond. Occasionally, a night owl hooted among the tall branches as if conducting an orchestra of chirping crickets. And at night, on good nights, Veer and I goofed around, pretending to be different cartoon characters from our childhood TV shows, Garfield and Jon, Tarzan and Jane, Charlie Brown and Snoopy, Tom and Jerry, Cinderella and Prince Charming, Don Quixote. We ran barefoot on the grass like children till we collapsed out of sheer exhaustion. And on those nights, we made soft, unhurried love. Those nights were magical. Veer’s parents were mostly busy with their post-wedding social engagements—“tying up loose ends,” as his mother said. And I was grateful for those loose ends.
All the while, I had not stepped outside the gates of the mansion, mainly to keep Veer calm. I spoke to my parents occasionally, reassuring them that I was happy. The peacock colours reminded me of all the promises that life held before me and how indebted I was for those promises. Everything had fallen into an unintentional routine. Until yesterday, when Veer came home from work.
That evening, there was something different about him. He did not talk, and I did not probe. I knew he would tell me when he was ready.
It was after dinner when we were sipping tea on the edge of the lily pond that he looked up. The moon had just risen, and the garden lights from the veranda barely reached his troubled face. “Papa has announced that he would like to retire. This means that I will be attending orientation to pick up more projects from his portfolio … and this means more time at the office and more travelling.”
I exhaled with relief. I thought it was something worse, something like the old Veer coming back.
“Is that all?” I asked.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, that is not a bad thing that you have an opportunity to grow at work.”
He was quiet. I hated his silences. Sometimes he simply withdrew. And this was one of those times.
“Veer!” I nudged. He was looking at the crescent moon peeking from behind a low cloud.
“Maya, one day….” He was quiet again.
“Yes, Veer?”
“One day I will do what has been close to my heart.”
I was surprised to hear this. Veer had mentioned that his family business was built around import and export of food commodities and consumer goods. Never before had I caught even a hint that following in his father’s footsteps was not what Veer wanted to do.
“And what is close to your heart, Veer?” I got up to sit on the arm of his lawn chair. He started stroking my hand.
“One day I will live from the land, grow my own garden, feed everyone with the food I grow, and die in that garden.”
Where was this coming from? I had no idea that Veer was attached to the earth, enough for it to satisfy him, or that he had a green thumb. Then I remembered how much time he spent in our garden planting and talking to Ram, our gardener.
“Oh really?” I teased. “And am I a part of your grand plan? ”
“Well, while I till our little piece of heaven, you can cook for the whole village.” He pulled me onto his lap and started tickling my belly. We burst out laughing.
“You know that I cannot cook at all! And for the whole village! They will banish us for feeding them badly cooked food!”
“Then I will cook and yes, I will cook for the whole village, Maya, not one person less. For the whole village.”
“So we would be living in a village?”
“Yes. We would. Far away. Someday.” He was far away.
When he returned, I said, “Until then, my dear, you will have to like what you do.”
“You mean what my father likes me to do.”
“What is wrong with that, Veer?”
“For starters, I am not creating anything, I am earning empty money. I feel so alienated from what I do. And then it takes me away from you.”
“I am not going anywhere,” I tried to reassure him. “I will be here when you come back from work.”
“You just don’t want to spend time with me, do you?”
My heart skipped a beat. The insecure Veer was returning.
“When did I say that?”
“Just now.”
“Hey, that’s not fair, Veer. Have I left these walls since the day we have been married?”
“You sound resentful, Maya.”
And then there was silence. This silence was different. Dense, suffocating. Even the owl and the crickets were not helping. I knew somehow there was more to come. The coldness had crept back into the tips of my fingers and toes.
The evening passed. Then just before bed he spoke again. “Maya, I have been asked to fill in for Papa on a business trip. I have to leave the day after tomorrow. I will be gone for a few weeks.”
He spoke without taking a breath, as if getting it off his chest. I sat up next to him and slipped my hand in his. I knew leaving me caused him anxiety. I tried to make light of it.
“You don’t have to worry about me. I will be fine, and I will be waiting. Shall I help you pack in the morning?” He did not answer, so I continued, “Do you want me to come to the airport?”
“No.”
For some reason, that night, I felt relief. Without admitting it, I was looking forward to Veer going on this trip. I was wrong to feel that way; I did not want to feel that way. But I did. I had come to realize that Veer’s presence was too large, too domineering, and sometimes stifling. Sheila had hinted that there were only a few things that I had to restrict myself to in this mansion: keeping myself busy without stepping out of the gates, and waiting for Veer. I knew I could not carry on forever like this. It was a no-win situation. I had no friends in this new home, and the only friend I had kept me locked up.
Yet, I could not leave him. Nor did I want to anger him. Why, I did not know yet. And I suspected, subconsciously and grudgingly, that Veer knew my deepest darkest thoughts. How could he not?
8.
DESPITE MY THOUGHTS of the previous night, each passing stroke of the grandfather clock in the foyer, made me sad. I would miss Veer, without doubt. No more feeding the peacocks in the morning or playing in the evening in the garden with him pretending to be Don Quixote, the blundering Spanish knight rescuing his princess.
I didn’t want to be alone in this large, dark mansion either. Veer’s parents were out most of the time, and, when they were not, they neither called nor cared to check on me.
And I didn’t want to tell Veer, but I had been feeling sick for the past fortnight. A sudden nausea and giddiness enveloped me without warning and then passed as unexpectedly as it had arrived. During these spells, I ran to the washroom and then lay down. If Veer got even a hint of this, he would find his excuse not to go.
The perceptive Sheila had been hovering around like a mother hen. I suspected that she was a mind reader.
The day had slipped by so fast that before we realized, it was dusk, and time for Veer to go. He gave me a long hug and said, “I want to see the same Maya as the one I leave behind, right here when I come back. Promise?”
I wanted to ask him why I would change, and where would I go, but instead I said, “Yes, I promise Veer.”
After one last heart-breaking look from his car window, Veer was gone.
With heavy feet, I dragged myself to the lily pond next to the peacocks. As expected, Sheila came by to ask if I would like some tea. She saw my melancholy look and offered me a mango milk shake instead. Nothing was stirring me. So, she said, “Maya-Beti, why don’t you go for a walk to the east gardens? The flowers are in full bloom this time of the year, and Ram th
e gardener can really benefit from some advice on what to plant for the upcoming season.” It was simply a suggestion, and, of course, subtly made, but something about the way Sheila said it piqued my curiosity.
“Sheila, why is Ram only planting on the east side? What lies on the west side?” In all my days after marriage, I had only explored the various sections of the east wing. I had neither been introduced to the west wing, nor had I seen any passages leading to that section of the house. Suddenly, this answer was important to me.
Sheila did not answer. A shadow passed over her face and she seemed momentarily deep in thought. And then, with an awkward jerk, she turned her back on me and started hobbling on toward the house. She had totally ignored my question. Without pausing, and with her back still to me, she called out, “If you decide to go for your walk then don’t stay out alone too long: soon it will dark and tonight dinner is being served early for the big Madam in the dining hall.”
I didn’t mind Sheila’s rebuff; I knew that was not her intention. But, more importantly, I wondered what she was hiding.
I decided to forgo my walk and go inside instead to look for answers.
From our garden, I climbed up the stairs to the balcony, hoping to slip in unnoticed from the pantry’s back door. But I was too late. Sheila was right. Dinner was being served early tonight. Veer’s parents were already on their first course of lentil soup and chicken salad. Veer’s mother shot me a disinterested glance and rang the bell for one more plate to be placed. Then she asked casually, “Has Veer left?”
I nodded while trying to concentrate on the hot soup. Then I made an effort to be sociable with the safest topic of conversation. “The weather is changing so fast this year, already there seems to be a nip in the air, especially for the peacocks….”
Veer’s father listened, but halfway through my sentence, Veer’s mother interrupted to speak to him directly, “Do you remember which day is Mrs. Sharma’s anniversary dinner? It is their fiftieth, you know.” I gulped my soup with my pride and tried not to feel rebuffed.