Ranjana woke up, as though in fright, as she turned on to her side, her head buzzing with the loud snores of Nimesh piercing her eardrums like the whirring of a lathe coming from a nearby workshop.
Stretching forth her sleepy limbs and stifling a yawn, she sat up on the bed, her arms lithely wrapped around her soft pillow that she took on her lap.
She looked at the wall clock and exclaimed, “Oh my goodness!” She was at a loss for things to do at this before-dawn wake-up and after a moment’s reflection she wriggled away from the bed, careful not to make any sound that might wake Nimesh up.
She never had any problem in getting up at the crack of dawn on weekdays despite delicious lethargy and inertia gripping her body and mind. But on Sundays she compulsively flew to the realms of fantasy and imagination and stayed in bed as long as she could afford.
She was not sure whether this obsessive habit was symptomatic of any psychological malaise. To
her the bed is a sublime place to unwind for a woman with no one by her side. There is no need to be alert about whether you are lying with skimpy clothes or nothing on, no need to braid your hair, no need to brush your teeth to smell fresh, no need to protect yourself against body odour caused by sweating and stand fresh as a rose to attract your man and get hugged and kissed. No need to do many other trivial things. You’re free as a bird outside the cage of marital life.
As her eyes roamed around before landing on his body — a round, plump shape with heavy lidded eyes and somewhat pock-marked cheeks — her own face slowly twitched into a little frown.
“Oh, hell — why is he so reluctant to consult a doctor?” Nimesh would attach no importance to her repeated pleas, “Consult a doctor — how funny! The cure, they’d say, lies in operation. Why should I cough up a huge amount of my hard-earned money just to let you, or for that matter anyone else, sleep peacefully?”
No ambiguity in his words, “Either learn to ignore my snores and sleep with me or make your bed elsewhere”. When it came to his own convictions, she found him as stubborn as a bull engaged in fighting with another and she had no option but to bear with it.
Yes, she’d to bear with this accidental husband, twenty years her senior — a man from Bihar who would push a roll of khaini into his mouth every alternate hour. She’d to bear with the stuffy one-room ground floor apartment of an old building where they stayed — a place where everyone lived in everyone else’s pockets, cheap rent being the main attraction.
She’d to bear with a lot more . . . before and after that charade, that big chicanery — the shotgun wedding. She’d shown the extent of patience and fortitude she was capable of. Even in the face of disownment by her own parents — once her role models!
***
Ranjana emerged from her room, unable to stay inside, her heart aching. She knew she’d to keep calm but couldn’t help sighing for the days gone by. Only child of Dr Arup Mahapatra and Dr Manasi Bose Mahapatra, she was too eager to follow in her parents’ footsteps to think of anything else beyond her schedule of tuitions, dance, music, karate and drawing lessons all through the week. After school she unwound herself playing tennis with a few girls of her age in the most high profile tennis court in Asansol.
When she was in class eight, she’d a quarrel with Misti, her best friend. The two were eating their lunch in an empty class room during the recess.
“You think parents are gods. Tee-hee!” said Misti, a precocious girl who had already started demonstrating her adult interests.
“Have any doubt about it?” Ranjana couldn’t understand what was giving her the giggle.
“Definitely.”
“Do you think they’re devils?” Ranjana eyed her distrustfully, not sure if she was cracking jokes or being serious.
“Neither gods nor devils but men and women. And we’re products of their physical union. They make love and babies are born to them. Isn’t it fun?” whispered Misti, pulling Ranjana’s head nearer to her chest and placing her lips onto her ear. Her breath was hot, her eyes were half closed, as though she were watching two human beings in a love making posture.
“Rubbish!” she freed herself from her friend’s hug, unable to hide her disgust, her chin upward, her head tilted back.
“No, dear, it’s true. You are no exception to it,” she asserted, her face turning crimson.
“My parents are different. They can never do such dirty thing.” She felt a flare of anger inside her as she protested.
“Dirty! How were you born then?” she burst into a fit of laughter.
“My father says every baby is a gift of God. I’m a gift like that.” There was complete innocence and honesty in her large black eyes. Misti, however, tried her best to suppress a chuckle.
Just them the bell rang and they had to run to be in class in time. To Ranjana it was like a revelation of sorts. Despite the onset of pubescence and its concomitant physical development, she was not that much mature as to understand man-woman relationships fully. And then one night the whole thing became clear — as clear as crystal — to her.
Her nanny being absent that day, she slept with her mom by her side while her dad slept on a cushioned bed in the floor.
At midnight, her sleep was interrupted. As she opened her sleep-induced eyes, she couldn’t find her mom in bed. Scared, she rubbed her eyes as her gaze lazily fell on the floor.
“What are they doing over there in that position?” her latent prurience got the better of her nocturnal jitter.
She listened to the rhythmic thud and synchronous groan and viewed their bodies moving fiercely, their clothes thrown away. She was breathless and still for a while, and as she viewed the whole act being performed before her gaze, sly and secret, she remembered what Misti had confided to her. Her heart started galloping like a race course horse and her blood pulsed through her veins like a tidal wave sweeping off her naivety, her childishness. She turned an adult too soon.
She began to revel if any of her classmates admired her dreamy eyes and elfin face. Even when boys drooled over her on her way to and back from tuition classes, she relished in their innuendos. She didn’t also mind their leer at her bare, bright shoulders and firm, shapely bosom.
By the time she was in her tenth class, she didn’t know she’d become an object of voyeuristic pleasures in her own backyard. He was having the hots for her ever since he observed her blooming into a girl from a child but found no opportunity to befriend her.
He was Nimesh, the family driver and now her husband, who was provided with accommodation in the outhouse of their bungalow. He’d started looking upon her as his “property” and if he saw any street Romeo come on to her, he would threaten the guy with dire consequences.
“Khuki, take care. Lechers are after you.” said he one morning, his lewd gaze raking over her ample bosom. “You are as attractive as Helen.”
“Thank you, uncle,” apparently immune to his indecent glare, she hurried away.
One evening he returned to the outhouse after dropping her parents at Pritika — a posh guest house with a large conference hall — where they’d remain till 9 pm to attend a meeting. He learnt Ranjana’s nanny was also down with malaria. So it was “now or never” for him.
Just then Ranjana was returning from her tuition class. Like a prowling lion that emerges from a bush at the sight of a long-awaited prey, he appeared before her.
“Just a minute Khuki. How do you like this smart phone?” He took out a brand new phone and placed it before her curious gaze.
“How can I judge at a glance? Moreover, I don’t have any idea either.”
“Then come to my room for a while. I’ll show you the things which you’ve never seen.” He took her hand and began to drag her towards his room.
“Uncle, uncle, not now. Tomorrow I’ll see.” Ranjana tried to resist.
“Your dad and mom won’t allow you to see these things.”
Once inside, Nimesh opened a pornographic website and handed the phone to her.
“You see all these stuff as long as you wish. I’ll be back soon.” Apparently, he moved away from her but he was watching her secretly like a seasoned seducer.
She sat on his dirty bed, transfixed, feasting on a couple completely naked and then being engaged in the “act” in an elaborate ritual. Then another couple, then another…videos after videos…
Minutes passed before Nimesh stood before like a smiling magician, “Let’s do the same thing and make a video to watch it later.” At his bidding she stripped off and surrendered to him like a person hypnotised.
There she lay for almost two hours, ravished, not once but thrice, her eyes closed, a weird feeling of excitement overwhelming her.
When the two hours of tangible ecstasy dissipated to a sudden realisation that she was not in her own room, she got up, put on her skirt and shirt and hurried out almost like a hurricane, but without feeling the slightest guilt, regret or sorrow. She didn’t even blame Nimesh for all that had happened, as though she, and not he, were waiting to experience it.
It was not just one-evening stand. They were after it consensually and seized every opportunity that came in their way for a year or so without the knowledge of her nanny or parents, though finally they couldn’t avoid the inevitable pitfalls. Ranjana developed morning sickness just before her HS final and Joint Entrance Examination. With a certain amount of trepidation she sat the two exams.
Before it was too late, they eloped, married secretly and she opted for termination much to his indignation. In the darkest of times came the setback. She failed to crack the JEE.
The dust settled but she began to feel that despite being diverted from her goal by a kind of nymphomania, ambition still burned within her like fire hidden under ashes. To prevent the hidden flames from flickering further and dying, she thought psychological counselling would help her get rid of the unhealthy obsession.
And it did. She could now channelise all her energies along a single direction. It was, at times, a grim struggle for her to live with a man like Nimesh to whom her body was more important than anything else but she didn’t abandon herself to despair but went through all the blood, sweat and tears to chase her dream.
At Katwa, the place where they had set up home, Nimesh’s earnings were more than enough to support a two-member family. But he’d to drive long, so long that he’d even no time to drink.
A blessing in disguise for Ranjana! He wouldn’t return home drunk and his prolonged outdoor duty would give her enough time for reflection, introspection and preparation.
Ranjana looked at the pre-dawn sky that wore a veil of mystery with most street lights having gone out and neighbourhood dogs still barking at their infiltrating brethren.
With a tremendous effort the moon, however, peeped out of the clouds and shone brightly.
Just then her mobile beeped. As she opened the message box, she cried out, tears of joy running down her cheeks like flash flood.
The teardrops on her cheeks glistened in the moonlight. She had topped the list of successful JEE candidates.