The River (standard:romance, 28256 words)
Author: Shamoil Ahmad	Added: Jun 10 2010	Views/Reads: 3077/3040	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
A woman hurt by male ego seeks her liberation....

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

there were innumerable buildings and beyond them the familiar river,.. 
a small part of which was visible from where she was seated in the 
balcony. 

There were a few date trees on this side of the riverbank. They were so
close that whenever heavy wind blew, the trees would swing close to one 
another making a formation of arch, 

She looked from the balcony. Not many vehicles were seen on the road.
She dragged her chair close to the railing, rested her head on the 
knees and fixed her gaze on the river. The zestfully flowing water of 
the river seemed to sparkle under the starry night and, like some 
mischievous eyes, tried to convey some kind of a message. For long she 
remained in this state, savoring every bit of it. The traffic on the 
road had come to a trickle and most of the activities had subsided with 
people retreating to the interiors of their house. Soon the entire area 
became desolate and life appeared to have come to a halt. She too 
withdrew and went to bed. She lied down, covered her face with pillow, 
and remained in that state for quite some time. She closed her eyes and 
felt silence was gradually descending and enlarging itself...with her 
eyes closed and silence engulfing her, she felt drawn towards something 
mysterious and unfathomable. She was trying to concentrate her mind to 
a point and in trying to do that, she had involuntarily folded her 
legs, pulled them closer to her chest, and crammed herself like a 
folded bag. It seemed to her that she was hearing the sound of a 
machine operating at some distance. Gradually that sound melted into 
deep silence...she squeezed herself further...and tried to concentrate 
her mind with greater vigor.  She was slowly descending. Into the 
silence, she felt the silence was like a rock: impregnable and 
immobile. She could touch it, and feel it with her hand...and she 
opened her eyes as if with a start only to discover that she had been 
exposed to the presence of a massive ice bed with someone making a mild 
knock on it. She sat up and for once looked out of the window, ...the 
river was flowing majestically as ever, under the sparkle of 
stars...the dates were continued to merrily dance in the same arch like 
manner and an image seemed to have emerged from there...a shadowed the 
visage...of those jostling eyebrows...the active and energetic 
something... 

“Will you take some chicken...?” “Just...one piece...?” “No...err
...thanks...” “One piece...please...” “Oh...Oh...no please....what is 
you doing?” “You are a UGC scholar...!” “Nothing great about 
that...just whiling away my time...” “Subject...?” “Para psychology...” 
“What...Para psychology?” “I am researching on death...” “On death...?” 
“Yes...” “What on death...?” “Well, I am researching on what a dying 
man could possibly be experiencing at the time.’’ 

“And what is that experience?” “I haven’t come to any conclusion yet...”
“Still something must have...” “Well, this much is sure that some 
people pass through what is called out of body experiences...” “Could 
not understand...” She heard the horn of a car at some distance. She 
spread herself on the bed and lied down supine. She opened her eyes for 
once, fixed her gaze on the ceiling of the roof and faintly smiled.... 
“Grand Apartment is located on the crossing of Frazer Road.” 

She shut her eyes and pulled the pillow onto her chest; pressed it
mildly against her breast and lied flat on the back. The sound of 
machine had abated and not heard any more. A pall of quietude had 
covered the entire horizon...and she was slowly melting into sleep. 

Next day when she rose, she was in a happy frame of mind. She felt she
was being happy for no apparent reason. She smiled at this realization 
and hummed her way into the bathroom. 

While returning from the university that day, she went to the British
Library and collected some books. She thought of buying some magazines 
and moved towards the main road crossing; but suddenly, she realized 
she was moving towards Frazer Road. She was surprised to find herself 
there. She could have bought the magazines right at the crossing 
itself. As she looked up, Grand Apartment was right in front of her. 
She could not help smiling at her instinctive though unintended desire 
of seeing the apartment... and just as she thought of it, she found him 
standing in front of her. She was stultified to see him thus. “You 
here...!” He blurted out. “Yes...” this was what she could speak in her 
bewilderment. “We met at that wedding ceremony?” She nodded her head in 
agreement. “You reside at Digha Colony, don’t you?” “Yes...” “Where are 
you coming from, now?” “Had been to the university.”  She thought he 
would now enquire about the subject of her research. But he did not. 
She then smiled and asked if he lived around this area. “Here it 
goes...” He pointed towards the apartment she had already seen. It was 
so close. “Which floor?” She enquired. “3rd Floor....301 to be precise” 
“I find it difficult to breathe in an apartment...” “Why...?” 

“It confines you...it’s always enjoyable if there is some sunshine, some
greenery around...” “What brought you to this side...?” He looked at 
his wristwatch as he asked this. “Just to buy a few magazines...” A 
speeding car suddenly screeched past her giving her a severe jolt. She 
covered her ears with both hands. He was quiet. “Oh, how noisy it is 
here...how do you live here?” “There is no noise in the apartment...I 
enjoy it...” “Don’t you feel suffocation...?” “I have become used to 
it...” “There doesn’t seem to be any restaurant here where we could 
enjoy a cup of coffee.” “Restaurant is right here...” He looked at his 
watch as he indicated towards a restaurant nearby. “Why are you looking 
at your watch so frequently...” She smiled. “I am on my way to 
office...” “Office?” “Yes...” “Please go if you are getting late...” 
Her voice had suddenly become a little harsh. “You can take your 
magazines from that adjoining counter there...” he waved towards a shop 
as he began to move. “Thanks...” She was clearly irritated . “And the 
restaurant is across the road there...” “Thank you very much indeed...” 
Her exasperation was complete as she watched him go leaving her there. 
But soon she began to curse herself. Where was the need for her to open 
up so much in the very first meeting? How did she expect a blockheaded 
man to...she should not have mentioned restaurant to him in the first 
place...perhaps, she thought for a rationale that those living in 
apartments were like this only... 

Out of sheer disgust, she did not even buy the magazines she had
intended to and made a hasty retreat from there. She kept scolding 
herself for having broached the idea of having coffee...in a 
restaurant. Why did she do that? Was she then nursing a desire of 
spending some time with him over a cup of coffee...?  Why such a 
bizarre desire...? And how could one become so free and demanding in 
the very first meeting...? How childish of her to have...? She vowed to 
be careful in future meetings. She was not normal even after reaching 
home...future meetings? Was she looking forward to them? Her mood was 
far from normal. She threw herself on the bed without changing her 
dress, hid her face in her arms...and remained in this state for some 
quite a while...then rose from there and went over to the balcony where 
she remained seated for a while, near the railing, 

The anglers were throwing their nets in the river. Wind was blowing and
the flowing river waves were shining in the sunlight. She kept watching 
this spectacle for some time and then returned to the bed. She 
discovered she was sad and tired, and that she needed rest. A pall of 
gloom appeared to have engulfed her and it kept expanding on the 
slightest touches. She felt this gloom was broadening its tentacles 
much to her discomfort...she could not forget the way he indicated 
towards the bookstall first and then towards the restaurant...how 
unbecoming of him to have... She sat up resolutely, cast her glance 
around and picked up the novel of Hermann Hess she had half-read and 
had left on the table. She took the novel in her hand and turned to the 
page where she had left a marker. But she could not read on. Her mind 
was restive and eyes wandered to the window. She went up and looked 
down and felt the presence of bougainvillea inviting her below. She 
looked further down towards the lawn and found papa tending and 
planting fresh flower saplings. She at once threw her book on the table 
and raced downwards to join papa. Quietly and carefully tiptoeing 
through the velvety lawn, she went up to him. In one of the pots she 
found a large number of buds of small chrysanthemum [guldaudi] ready to 
flower. She picked them up one by one. Close by her feet, there were 
some bamboo splinters lying. Papa asked her to tie up some of the 
creepers to bamboo splinters so that they could firm up and accrete. 
She sat down by his side and began to  assist him in his endeavor and 
soon they had completed the task of tying all those creepers to the 
splinters.  They were covered on top with polythene bags. She became so 
much engrossed in this work that she could not notice the onset of 
dusk. When garden chairs were laid on the lawn, she walked up to the 
water tap, washed her hands, sprinkled some water on her face and sat 
down near papa. She always found it highly rewarding to sit with her 
papa on such evenings on this velvety lawn. It was a joy she never 
wanted to miss. This was the only time when she could get to talk to 
him in full measure, especially on art and literature. She was keen to 
discuss J. Krishnamurthy with him, but the sudden arrival of a car near 
the gate put paid to her desire. It surprised her no ends to see him 
emerging from the car. He gently shut the door of the car and with the 
gentle nod of his head offered his salutation to papa. Papa responded 
benignly with a smile and beckoned him in. 

He looked smart and dashing in his maroon shirt and dark grey pant. His
shoes also went well with his dress. She could not help thinking that 
this man had a great dress sense and owned a great look. She at once 
recalled that on that very fateful day at the Frazer Road he had put on 
a white safari suit and a pair of dark shoes that went so well with 
him. 

As beckoned to by papa, he occupied a chair in the centre and as he did,
that he threw a glance at her. It was a fleeting glance, almost 
stealthily done. She thought he was desirous of interacting with her. 
She almost nonchalantly pushed her slippers away from her feet and 
touched softly the velvety grass under the feet.   She allowed her eyes 
to drift away towards the money plant that had been set on a long 
bamboo splinter. 

“How is everything....?” asked papa. “With your blessings...everything
is fine...” “Will you like to have coffee?” “I don’t take coffee.” 
“Tea...?” “No, thanks...” “Something cold...?” “Please don’t take the 
trouble...” “Where’s the question of trouble...?” “Don’t you take tea 
at all...?” “Yes, I do...” “When...?” “Once in the evening after 
returning from office...” She felt like asking whether he took milk in 
the morning...but did not and stayed put with a smile. “But you must be 
taking something in the evening...like tea, coffee...drinks... snacks 
or even breakfast...” “I take tea only once...that too after returning 
from office...I have taken tea before coming over here...” “Take it 
once more...” papa said with a disarming smile. “It’s not my habit...” 

It was all silent for a while. He kept shaking one of his feet violently
while she kept running her feet gingerly over the velvety grass.  A 
squirrel came from nowhere and raced atop an Asoka tree. 

“Your garden is beautiful...” He remarked after surveying it. “It is all
papas’ work...” She could not keep her from speaking this time. 
“Chrysanthemums are bountiful and massive.” “There is one deficiency 
though...” “And what’s that?” “Not one in blue color” He did not say 
anything. “Do you know why...?” She enjoyed pestering him. “No, I 
don’t....please tell me...” “Because,” she said with a mischievous 
sparkle in her eyes,” chrysanthemums in blue color are not found 
anywhere.” Papa smiled; as did he, somewhat sheepishly though. “But you 
can find sunflowers in blue color as well...” she said, smiling once 
again. It appeared to him that she was opening up. “Where...?” This 
time he also smiled whole-heartedly. “In Japanese crockery...” 
“What...?” 

“Blue chrysanthemums are found engraved on Japanese crockery. It’s quite
possible that it once existed...” Papa explained this in some detail. 
Silence returned once again for a while. “I’ll now go...” he declared, 
suddenly looking at his wrist watch. This man has no topic for 
discussion. She was filled with a sense of revulsion. She turned to 
papa and asked whether he found that book. “Which book...?” “That 
Krishnamurthy book...” Papa shook his head in negative. “Please allow 
me to take leave...” he rose from the chair. “Stay for a while 
please...” papa requested. “I have given time to someone...” “You are 
very punctual about time...” she said with a smile. “Aren’t you?” “No, 
I am not...restrictions of any kind tend to desensitize you...it ties 
you down and you become conditioned by and by...” “I’ll go now...” he 
finally said namaskar to papa as he took leave. “Great pleasure 
meeting....please comes again.” He strode past the gate in no time. She 
thought he would look back at her, which he did indeed. To this, she 
responded with a smile that remained restricted to her lips hardly 
discernible to anyone else. “What’s your reading about him...?” She 
turned to papa as she spoke. “Good and simple.” “To me he looks a very 
conditioned man...” “Man is never fully free from his 
within...something will always keep him tied down to it...” 

Nonchalantly, she looked towards the gate where the tiny leaves and
flowers of bougainvillea were vacillating even as the wind was blowing 
gently. She felt once again descending into some kind of inexplicable 
despondency...she pushed her head on the back of the chair and shut her 
eyes. Through her closed eyes she was observing the spreading darkness 
around her...the rustling sound of wind that enthralled her in the past 
suddenly seemed to have lost that verve for her. She felt as though the 
wind was beating against the impenetrable and stony wall and she was 
planted in a tomb of rock where  she was waiting for none to come...and 
there was no rain... no sunshine outside this tomb... 

She opened her eyes and glumly looked around and noticing that evening
had finally descended, she rose from the chair. 

He was not seen again for a long time. 

Once while passing through Frazer Road, she cursorily looked at the
apartment. It had then occurred to her that she was unconsciously or 
subconsciously waiting for him...especially when she was alone in the 
lawn, she unfailingly thought about him...she always felt that she 
needed to speak out to him...if only he happened to be around. 

One day she was all alone in the sprawling drawing room. Papa had gone
somewhere and she was feeling bored and lonely. She did not even enjoy 
reading anything. With great difficulty, she had obtained some books of 
Loutse, but she could not go beyond a few pages. She felt like walking 
down to the river bank and sit quietly there for hours. However, she 
had to drop the idea as the area was not safe, and it was not advisable 
to go there alone. 

Then she heard the horn of a car. She looked up towards the gate and was
greatly surprised to see him getting down from car...his arrival at 
this hour seemed unexpected and unusual. 

She moved out of the drawing room. He greeted her with a smile. She too
smiled back in response. “Is papa not in...?” He enquired. “No...” She 
thought he would now ask as to where he had gone and when was he 
expected. He did not. 

When they occupied their seat in the lawn, she thought he must have been
thinking about her, just as she had been thinking about him lately. 
However, she wondered what could he have been thinking about her. She 
had so far not been able to fully comprehend him...the kind of man he 
was...what were his interests, though she seemed sure of the fact that 
he was not interested in books and that he was a man of principle and  
punctilious about certain things like punctuality and discipline.. 
Before leaving, he would invariably look at his wristwatch. 

He was constantly watching towards a rubber plant in a pot kept in the
lawn. She decided she was not going to be the one to break the silence 
and initiate dialogue...and if he asked something, she would reply in 
monosyllables...but when tea was brought, she broke her resolve. “You 
won’t take tea, I presume.” “No, not at this hour...” “Then...?” 
“Snacks will do...” “But why don’t you take tea at this hour...?” “Just 
a matter of habit...” “Don’t you think these restrictions are 
inhibitive...and they do not let you live a normal life...?” “Why...?” 
“Now take a look at this scenario...the weather is so enticing...one 
can feel the cooling effects of wind...growing clouds...rustling sound 
emanating from leaves...and the two of us sitting and talking in the 
midst of greenery...don’t you think a cup of tea could double the 
impact of it all...?” He smiled and stayed put. 

“Therefore,” she continued, “whenever you come to us at this
hour...please agree to have tea with us...” “Alright,” he replied,” 
I’ll stop taking tea at any other hour...” “Why?” “As is my habit, I 
can take only one cup of tea in a day...” “I cannot follow this kind of 
regimentation...” “You are a great talker...” “Yes, I am a talkative 
person alright...but not at all places and at all times...for instance, 
I cannot close myself inside a room and talk out an evening....instead, 
I like to give my evenings to the green lawn....for talking, it is the 
closed room and midnight...” “Midnight for talking...?” “Just imagine 
someone calling your name out in a strange city....or just imagine the 
thrill of meeting a friend after years....won’t you feel like talking 
to him over innumerable cups of tea and remaining closeted with him in 
a room...talking and talking for hours together...that will be the real 
joy...” He just laughed at her enthusiasm. “Did you never experience 
this kind of joy?” “No...never....” “What keeps you going then...?” “I 
go for jogging in the morning...I cook my breakfast and lunch before 
going to office.” “Haven’t you got a cook...?” “I have a servant who 
does everything except cooking...” “What are the things you cook?” 
“Everything....chapati...rice...biriyani...chicken...” “Don’t you think 
it is better to marry than to take so much risk?” “I think...I’ll do 
that now....”he looked at her with a smile as he said this, giving her 
a blush. “You stay alone with papa...?” She nodded her head in 
agreement. “And how about other members...?” “I am alone...mummy died 
when I was very young...and papa did not marry again.” He was silent. 
“Papa is also a good friend of mine...time passes so easily with 
him...he is a well read man...we talk a great deal...literature, art, 
music, philosophy...history...and host of other things...there is no 
dearth of subjects with him...” “I’ll take leave now...”he said looking 
at his watch. “Tarry a little longer...papa will come anytime now...” 
“Where has he gone?” “To Good Books to see new arrivals...” He looked 
around for some time. “You have a beautiful garden...” “Come on...I’ll 
take you around...” 

The velvety lawn was long and well spread out...and flanks were
decorated with tiny plants that were regularly trimmed to keep them 
from overgrowing, duly punctuated with narcissus plants and some 
elegant creepers straightened up on bamboo splinters. Moving along the 
finely grown lines of snowballs, she stopped near the double-shaded 
plants of rose. With a winsome smile, she drew his attention to a 
full-grown majestic rose that stood out there. 

“Look at this high-breed tree...and that’s the famous ...rose of all
roses...” He surveyed the garden very minutely. If it was the queued up 
dahlia on this side drawing his attention, the lined up small 
chrysanthemums on the other side was an invitation he found difficult 
to ignore. 

“You should take part in exhibitions...” He could not help being
impressed. “To bring about novelty, I try out various colors and create 
other colors by merging and cross-breeding them....the sameness 
distracts me...novelty never wears thin...” and then she harangued him 
on the quality and variety of rose...why it was necessary to feed them 
on the sun and for how long...which flowers needed to be exposed to the 
sunlight and which were to be shaded...why it was necessary to...why 
both sunlight and nocturnal dew were indispensable for some and....” 
“Where did you learn it all...?” “From papa of course...gardening is 
his pastime...” She chirped all along as she took him round. “I haven’t 
yet shown you the variety of rose...here! This is Christen dire...this 
Virgo piece...First prize...Paradise...Eiffel tower....Century 
two...Lady X... Double delight...and this is Mister Lincoln...” 
“Great!” Suddenly, the wind grew wild and cold. She looked at the sky; 
at the darkening clouds emerging in the western side of the sky....and 
lo... it began to drizzle. She could not contain her glee and jumped 
with joy. “Oh, what a transformation in weather...” the glow was 
clearly visible on her face and she seemed keen to share this joy 
with.... “I’ll rather go now...” he said, breaking her reverie, so to 
say. “Why...?” “This drizzle is a warning for rain...”he said looking 
at the darkening clouds, frightfully. “Don’t you enjoy getting drenched 
in rain...?” The drizzle had already converted into big raindrops. He 
hurried back to a shaded area while she kept chirping as she also 
scampered back to shade. “You are very much scared of rain...” “Could 
catch cold...” “If you are so careful in your life...life itself 
becomes drudgery...” He did not react. 

“I usually take refuge under that tree,” she said waving towards a tree
in the farthest corner of the garden, “whenever I am caught in rain 
here...” There were a few drops of water on her face and some raindrops 
had wetted her around her nape and shoulders. 

It was raining in torrents now. The sound of rain against the wildly
blowing wind grew majestic and the massive tree of goldmohar 
(pulmonary) was swinging as if to a tune. 

She stole a look at him. He was wiping his face with his handkerchief.
From portico they moved in to the drawing room. “Should you like to 
have coffee...?” She asked. “No thanks,” he replied tersely. “If you 
give company, I too could enjoy a cup of coffee...” she smiled as she 
said this. “You may have it...” ‘I won’t ask him anything anymore...,’ 
she got irritated and looked out of the window. This man is incapable 
of enjoying nature, she thought disdainfully and suddenly she realized 
the very presence of this man was inhibiting her. He was eating into 
her sense of freedom, he was driving her into some kind of a cell, and 
that she was forced to watch the spectacle of rain falling from behind 
the bars of the cell.  Soon the rain stopped and he rose to depart. 
“I’ll go now...” He declared his intent to go. “Please do...” She could 
not contain her annoyance and said so rather dismissively. He looked at 
her a little surprisingly and waving her good bye swiftly moved towards 
the gate. 

After his departure, she felt anger was being pumped into her...a
blockheaded man...keeps on looking at watch...everything is decided 
before hand...how long to remain here...how long to do this...how long 
to do that...has no topic to talk....cannot enjoy nature. She suddenly 
felt annoyed with her own self...why was she attaching so much 
importance to him...? Why after all...? Was it necessary to have a male 
as friend? Why was she seeking his proximity? Why seek to associate 
with a man who keeps riveting within a fixed circle...always dreading 
to move out of the demarcated area...? Why seek company of a man who 
has no love for books...who cannot enjoy rain...? 

She rose by giving a jerk to her body, raced to her room and lied down
on the bed...staring at the ceiling of the roof...hid her face into her 
arms and felt as though she was immensely tired, as if she had 
travelled a long distance on foot. She  was sad...she was 
forlorn...walking for ages in a land where nothing was familiar... like 
a never ending journey that led to nowhere. 

It seemed she was vacillating out of sheer dread when she felt the
presence of something comforting on her head. On opening her eyes, she 
found it was the doting hand of papa. She sat up at once. 

“Feeling lonely...?” Papa’s query and the comforting hands on her head
forced a few drops of tears in her eyes. She quietly wiped them with 
her fingers lest papa should see them. 

The rain had begun to fall again. Papa sat down there and began to talk
about the climatic changes. While still on the topic of climate, he 
informed that there has been some change in the solar system...in fact, 
he said, the movement of the earth has been slowed down by a second and 
this has impacted the climate as well. 

In the meantime, she went downstairs and brought some fruits from
fridge, and offered them to papa. Putting a few slices of orange into 
his mouth, he expressed his views on the works of Gurzief, his life and 
his philosophy of life...then tenderly shoved her locks behind her ears 
and mildly stroked her cheeks, and said,— 

“Read books...books are the best friends...”  After papa was gone she
had taken her position at the balcony. The rain was falling in torrents 
and there did not seem any immediate possibility of its abatement. 
Water falling from the roof top on to the railing was also sprinkling 
on to the balcony and wetting her apron, . She wiped the water on 
railing with her hand and planted her chin on it so that she was able 
to feel the puddle. Her eyes settled on the electric pole and the 
high-tension wire connected to these poles. Individual droplets of 
water running down from one end of the wire to the other, making a 
garland of pearls in the process before converting into a big droplet 
at the end of the journey, and falling off on the surface below. . She 
remembered how in her schooling days she would chase a friend of hers 
and upon catching up with her, both of them would drop down on the 
ground... 

Wind was becoming wilder now and the rainwater was splashing inwards.
She was getting thoroughly drenched, but instead of trying to escape 
from the onslaught of rain, she continued to remain seated there. She 
had shut her eyes and was, it seemed, trying to read the meaning of the 
sound created by the rain. Drip-drop sound of water falling from the 
trees was merged with and evaporated into the more pronounced noise of 
fiery wind blowing across. 

What if there were no trees around...what kind of a sound will it make
in the absence of trees, she wondered loudly . She thought raindrops 
falling directly on the roofs would not create the same music that is 
created by the raindrops falling on leaves, filtering through, before 
dropping on the roof tops. They created music, not just sound of 
noise...slowly and steadily the intensity was rising...the swishing 
sound of the heavily blowing wind was acquiring mysterious proportions 
for her and she saw a visage of herself standing at the end of a long 
and narrow tunnel, some non-descript birds encircling over her 
head....and a hooded figure from afar beckoning her to come... 

She opened her eyes, turned sideways and sadly looked in the direction
of the massive tree of goldmohar. On the top branch of the tree, she 
saw a crane sitting with her beak buried under her wings,, and the 
money plant coiled around the eucalyptus shaking violently. 

One day while she was returning from the library, she met him at the
crossing. He raised his hand in salutation and she responded with a 
smile. She liked the way he wished her. He was on the other side of the 
road and was watching her intently from there. She thought he must have 
been keen to meet her one of these days...perhaps the way she was keen 
to...she took a long furtive look at him....he was dressed all white 
and the black half shoes he wore suited him well. 

She moved forward to cross over to the other side of the road, but she
was blinded and mortified by the sudden appearance of a speeding 
car...and if it were not for him, she would have been dashed down.  
From the other side of the road he suddenly made a swift leap and in no 
time  gripped her firmly dragging her away from the speeding car. She 
dashed against his chest; and the car that had first screeched to a 
halt, sped off.  It all happened in a moment, with the twinkling of an 
eye. It was all so very sudden that she did not seem to remember 
anything, and when she recovered from the shock of it all, she found 
herself firmly deposited into his arms, feeling the touch of his broad 
chest on her visage. The taste of salt flowing out of sweat was felt on 
her lips and a strange and inexplicable odor permeated through her 
nostrils...strange and mysterious like the smell emanating from a 
bonfire...she realized it clearly that the stench of that strange smell 
also contained an admixture of sweat and perspiration. The scene 
obviously attracted many passersby who stopped to watch the spectacle 
of that narrow and providential escape. 

“Is that the way to drive a car...?” “Very rash driving...” “It was a
great escape for you...” 

On recovering from it all, she took the stock of situation, extricated
herself from his grasp, organized herself and thanked him sheepishly. 
They then moved to the other side of the road. “While crossing road, 
you need to be extra careful...look both ways before you take a step 
forward...” She was silent. “I was then watching that car...” She 
continued to be silent. In fact, she had not fully recovered from the 
shock of that incident yet. She was still piecing them together...It 
all began to re-enact before her eyes...how he made that leap and 
dragged her into the safety of his arms...his broad chest...the sweat 
and perspiration pervading his person...and that grip. She was still 
feeling a tinge of pain where he had gripped her so firmly to drag her 
away from what must have looked like sure death . She did not mind the 
pain; in fact, she relished it...and with a smile on her lips, she 
caressed the spot where his grip had inflicted the pain, and for once 
looked squarely at him ...and as she looked at him, she realized it was 
not an ordinary look she had bestowed upon him. It had come from 
within. She felt that at that particular point of time she had 
descended into the depth where only the destined and initiated ones 
could descend with a specific purpose of seeking to unite for ever...It 
seemed to her that it was this kind of purposeless walk with him that 
she had always longed for. She could go on walking like this with 
him...purposelessly, fearlessly....untrammeled and unconcerned. 

“How did you happen to come to this side?” He asked. “Had gone to the
library...” “It was a miraculous escape for you...” “Such things are 
instinctive...” “Why...?” “The way you leaped into air...” He was 
silent. “This is not a matter of training....this skill is not acquired 
or created...” “I saw you in extreme danger...” “Thanks for your 
help...” “What’s your programme now?” “I’ll go home.” “Drop in to my 
apartment sometime...” “Will come some day with papa... “Sure...please 
do...” “Okay...and thank you once again...” “Bye...” “Bye...” 

When she reached home, papa was not there. She went to her room and lied
down on the bed. The entire scene began to re-enact itself....she shut 
her eyes...she felt he was delving into her being...lighting up her 
inner self and she seemed to be relishing the heat he was imparting to 
her. She remained like this for some time, as in a state of 
intoxication, and then with a sudden twist to her body, she sat up on 
the bed and looked out of the window....towards the river. The river 
too seemed to be in a state of ecstasy with waves rising and 
falling...there was a big rush and noise on the side of L.T.C ghat. The 
chirping birds were descrying in the sky. The palm trees were swinging. 
Gradual onset of dusk was casting its spell on the river as the water 
was turning dark. 

She got up, went to the window, softly held its bars, and shut her
eyes....how manly of him....how manly of him to have.... 

For some days she remained lost in her world of books...and one day when
papa told her that he had been to his apartment, she was surprised no 
ends. Then they had a detailed talk about him. Papa informed her that 
he was of noble descent and that he was counted as a scholar amongst 
engineers. 

It surprised her a lot that papa should be talking to her thusly. And
why this detailed discussion about him...then when she looked deep into 
his eyes, she became sad. She realized she had the same relation with 
her papa now that a boatman had with his passengers whom he had to 
ferry across...she could read in his eyes the urge to discharge his 
responsibility as father whose job was to find her a mooring. It made 
her sad to think of the possibility of such an eventuality. 

Papa also informed her that he had invited them to lunch on Sunday and
that he had promised to do the cooking himself. 

“Was it necessary to...?” “He is keen that we go there...” “But why did
you take the initiative...?” “It was a chance meeting at the 
crossing...I had to go with him...” Papa smiled. She was silent. She 
looked in the direction of the river. There was no visible movement on 
the placid waters of the river. The wind seemed to have gone static. 
The crow sitting on the telephone pole flew out once and flew back in 
soon to the same spot. The top branch of a banyan tree was moving 
slowly. 

Came Sunday and they went to the apartment. It was on the third floor. A
robbery had taken place in the apartment in the recent past. The 
occupants were, therefore, more alert and circumspect about the 
visitors. Names were duly entered in the register maintained for the 
purpose; and each visitor was subjected to this necessity. The guard 
accompanied them to the designated flat after making necessary entries 
in the register. 

He received them with a benign smile. It was a well maintained flat,
properly decorated and well organized suggesting the occupant must be a 
methodical man. She looked around with curiosity. She was surprised to 
find a bachelor’s flat so well maintained...all things at their 
rightful and designated places. This was unusual. Papa too was highly 
appreciative of this fact. This was not generally seen...then there 
were talks of here and there...when did he buy this flat and for how 
much...what was the area...how much did he have to pay towards 
maintenance ...and such mundane things... 

He then took them around for a better view of the flat. Drawing room was
L-shaped and its one end was utilized as dining space. There were two 
bedrooms joined by a passage. Door of the master’s bedroom opened to a 
balcony. The bedroom was clean. On the bed was spread out an azure blue 
printed bedcover that looked immensely beautiful. On one side of the 
bed there was a small book shelf where books were kept, neatly 
arranged. There was another small shelf where shoes of different 
quality and hue were kept in pairs, all of them neatly arranged, and 
each of them well polished. There was a massive poster of Bruce Lee on 
the wall. She could not help laughing to see the poster. 

“So you are interested in martial arts...?” “Bruce Lee was a wonderful
person...” “What were his qualities that impressed you so much...?” “He 
could fight with so many at a time.” “Is this a quality...? You call 
fighting a quality...?” She asked mischievously. Papa burst into a 
laughter and said, ”man’s tragedy is—he has bred fewer flowers and 
invented more weapons...” She took out a book from the shelf: How to 
Win People. It again elicited mischievous laughter from her. “Can 
anyone win over a person by reading books...?” “At least one can learn 
good things...” he smiled, wryly. “But man is basically bad...” “He can 
attempt to become good...” “I don’t agree...being good and becoming 
good are two different things...man is born good...he cannot become 
good...attempting to become good makes him a hypocrite...” “You are a 
good talker...” 

“If code of ethics could really bring about a qualitative improvement in
man, our society would not have been this bad...there would not have 
been these many riots...” she said, shoving back the book in the shelf. 
“You disturbed the sequence...this was not the designated place of this 
book...” he said as he took out the book from where she had shoved it 
and placed it by the side of another book that had red cover on it. 
“You attach great importance to sequence...” “Why...don’t you...?” 
“Dogmas...rule...principles...tend to tie you down to a tether post...” 
“Your words are incomprehensible to me...” he said and laughed. Papa 
also laughed to his heart’s content. From there they moved to the 
balcony that was sufficiently wide and covered with grill on all the 
three sides. “The very concept of balcony is destroyed by these 
grills...” she tried to peep below through grill with little success. 
“Why...?” “Looks like a prison....balcony means you should be able sit 
to with your chin planted on the railing and take the view of the world 
below....” From balcony, they shifted to the drawing-room and sat down; 
whereupon he asked— “Should I bring coffee?” “But you don’t take 
coffee?” “I have it for my guests...” He rose to go to kitchen. She 
asked— “Should I help?” “No, thank you...” “You are very self 
dependent...aren’t you...?” “No choice...” After a while, coffee was 
presented. Papa took a sip, and said,” it is well prepared...” “Thank 
you...” “Do you yourself cook your food....?” “Yes.” “Where did you 
learn it...?” “In Iraq...” “In Iraq...?” It was her turn to be 
surprised. “My company had sent me to Iraq on deputation for a year...I 
didn’t like the food served in the mess...thought of doing some 
self-cooking...a colleague of mine was also there, but with his 
family...I learnt cooking from them...” “Good habit...it saves you time 
and you also get quality food...” “It’s now become a habit with 
me...and I easily pass my time...I have a servant who does cleaning 
etc.” “What are you offering us for lunch...?” “I have prepared chicken 
biriyani...” “Oh, that’s my favorite dish...” 

“Food is ready...let me prepare salad, then it can be served...” “Should
I help....?” “Oh, no...why should you take the trouble...?” “No 
question of trouble...” She rose from the sofa to join him. Papa picked 
up a newspaper from the tripod and began to go through it. 

Kitchen too, like the flat, was well organized. Kitchen base had while
tiles that looked so sleek and elegant. Utensils were arranged in one 
of the cabinets and all containers and tins were kept in sequence. Gas 
cylinder was so well covered inside a cabinet that even its pipe was 
not visible. She looked impressed as she saw it all, and said with a 
smile— “The standard of a house is known by two things: kitchen and 
bathroom...drawing-rooms are taken care of by everyone...but bathroom 
exposes them...” “Meaning thereby that some people wear impeccable 
suit, but their under garments are dirty...” “Exactly...” “Meaning 
thereby, once again, that if you have to get the measure of a man, look 
at his inner garments...” and both of them burst into a peal of 
laughter. When she picked up a knife for peeling onion, he pointed out 
that the knife she had picked up was not meant for peeling/cutting 
onion.... “...then...?” “You take this one...” he bent forward, took 
out a knife from a cabinet and handed over to her. In his act of 
bending forward, he made a contact with her shoulder. “I have a 
different knife for fruits...I don’t like onion smell on fruits...” 
“One should learn manners from you...” “Thank you.” 

She began to unpeel onion. She found him standing very close to her
suddenly. She was feeling the warmth of his breath on her person. Once 
when he bent down to pick up a plate, his hand touched her bosom. She 
could clearly feel the touch of his fingers. She went crimson for a 
while. It seemed he was doing it all deliberately and once when he bent 
further down to do something, it appeared to her that he was trying to 
kiss her... 

He continued to stand close to her. She was constantly feeling the
warmth of his breath on her nape...she felt perspiration on her 
forehead....she became a little nervous and before he could make any 
further movement, she said— “Please give me salt...” He moved to the 
other side for picking up salt container. In the meantime, she moved a 
little farther from where she stood earlier. He placed the salt near 
her plate. After salad was ready, she went to the wash basin. She 
washed her hands, wiped them with a towel kept for the purpose and went 
back to the sofa. Food was served on the table soon thereafter. He 
called them out from there itself. Papa got up and she followed. 

The menu had a long list. Chicken biriyani...korma...shami kabab....alu
papad, raita, salad and pudding to cap it. “Goodness gracious....how 
could you do it all by yourself...?” Papa and she sat in the same line 
side by side and he was seated on the other side of the table, right 
opposite her. Papa took a morsel in and immediately recorded his 
appreciation— “Huummm...it’s so tasty...so well cooked...fantastic...” 
“Oh, you are unnecessarily heaping praises...” “You deserve to be 
praised....” “Do you knit sweaters as well...?” She had a mischief up 
her sleeves. “No, why do you ask that...?” Papa smiled, comprehending 
the purport of his daughter’s question. “How does sweater relate to 
food...?” Papa queried on his behalf. “I asked this because he has an 
expertise in all those things that are considered to be in the domain 
of a housewife...besides cooking food so efficiently, he has maintained 
the flat in such a manner that could put a housewife to 
shame...everything at its designated place...” “That’s because I have 
no choice....as I had said, I can’t eat outside food...and finding a 
quality cook is not easy...that leaves me with no choice but to cook my 
own food...as for my expertise...don’t they say practice makes a man 
perfect...what’s harm in attaining culinary perfection...?” She began 
to laugh at this lengthy and effective explanation. “Take some more 
salad,” he said extending towards Papa the plate of salad. “It’s 
enough...” papa tried to block the foray of salad into his plate, but 
he managed to put some into it. During the entire session of lunch, 
talks veered around more mundane things like where he was from and made 
informal queries about his siblings, where they were, what they did and 
things like that. She remained quiet during this session. He had 
informed papa that he was from Bhikhanpur. Papa had startled at the 
very mention of Bhikhanpur and then had talked about an old time friend 
whom he claimed to have known. 

They did not stay there long after the lunch was taken. He saw them off
at the gate below. Before boarding the car, papa thanked him for the 
sumptuous lunch and he waved his hand with a broad smile looking at 
both of them turn by turn. She also smiled back as they finally went 
out of the ken of his eyes. 

Papa looked content and satisfied. She noticed a kind of peace on his
face as they drove on. This saddened her a little.....felt tired as she 
looked out of the window of the car and watched listlessly at the 
buildings that were vanishing out of her sight. She pushed her head 
back on the seat and shut her eyes. 

Even after reaching home, she had not been able to free herself from
that inexplicable sadness that had engulfed her. Listlessly, she 
changed her attire and rolled out on the bed keeping her eyes closed. 
The image of her father was floating before her eyes...she found him 
weak and sad The mist began to gradually spread out taking everything 
within its ambit...She felt she was in the midst of this mist...and 
then someone called her name out...She had turned back to see who it 
was...The features were sharp...eyebrows were well drawn and seemed to 
be jostling to reach out...she had felt the presence of his fingers on 
her hip and had turned back to see...he had tried to bend down to...she 
had politely pushed him back...She had really wondered as to where she 
was going...what was she up to...The familiar river bank appeared to 
have been lost in the thick cloud of that mystifying odor....she felt 
he was somewhere near her...she was feeling the warmth of his breath on 
her nape...as if he was trying to lip-brush her neck and the adjoining 
areas and she was trying to keep him at bay...and then he had taken her 
hand into his hand and had pulled her tenderly towards himself and then 
her apron had got stuck on to an old and infirm branch of tree.... 

She sat up and looked perplexed. It seemed to her that papa was in the
lawn, waiting for her. She went to the railing and peeped below if papa 
was actually there. He was there, pacing the lawn leisurely. He looked 
at her and with a smile indicated that he was coming up to her. She got 
the clue...papa was coming to talk to her. She took two chairs to the 
balcony and waited for his arrival. 

She was deeply disturbed at the very thought of leaving papa. She
shuddered at the prospects that her papa would face when she was 
gone...he would be all by himself...no one to look up to...he was so 
much dependent on her...and she on him....what would be the quality of 
her own life without him around...? How sorely will she miss him...how 
dearly he loved her...she hardly ever felt the absence of her 
mother...he always kept her close to his heart, exuding warmth and 
keeping that protective umbrella always over her head....how secure she 
was in his company...how well he looked after her...always attentive to 
her personal needs, no matter how insignificant or small the need 
be...what a doting and caring father...? She was never lonely in his 
company...he was never short on ideas...there was no dearth of topics 
with him...it was such a rewarding experience talking to him....how was 
she going to reconcile to all these losses...? She was filled with an 
intense pain...the very realization was a pain difficult to 
contain....she was going to have a companion, what about papa...he 
would be lonely once she was gone... 

Papa was standing before her...she tried to rise, but he put his hand on
her shoulder and made her sit down and he himself occupied the other 
chair in front of her. 

They remained silent for a while....this silence was  painful....she
took a quiet look at her father; and she was distressed to find him 
frail and forlorn....it appeared to her that papa was passing through a 
painful phase and she was sure after hearing him, she too would pass 
through the same ordeal of  distress. He opened his mouth to say 
something, but his voice got choked and he failed to utter a word 
clearly. It was after much effort that he managed to clear his throat 
and said— “My child...!” It pierced through her heart and she leapt 
into his arms, sobbing bitterly as he kept tenderly running his hand 
over her head...she was weeping uncontrollably... “No... don’t... my 
child...don’t you cry...” the more he pacified her the more she cried, 
and cried inconsolably. He kept fondling her, long enough and when 
after some time she raised her face to look at papa, he cupped her face 
into his hands, kissed her on  forehead and said.” I like this 
lad...and if you approve of him...” She once again flung into his arms 
and began to cry vehemently. “No, my child....don’t do that...after all 
you will remain in this city itself...” It was with great effort that 
she finally controlled herself. Papa had left leaving her there to 
cogitate over the whole thing. She did nothing of the kind. She just 
looked out towards the river. A new sign board had come up near the 
main entry point of the river bank. ‘Ganga Action Plan—Site for 
Electric Crematorium’ A new burning ghat, an electric crematorium for 
burning the dead was coming up, she thought...and looked at the river 
with sad eyes for long...fishermen were casting their nets into the 
river and a boat having crammed all passengers was readying to leave 
the shore. 

Two 

The marriage was finalized. Moment too came.. 

Shrunken and dressed fully in red, she had quietly perched herself on
the bed. She shrunk further upon hearing the sound of his footsteps, 
heralding his arrival on the scene...her heart had suddenly begun to 
thump... 

He came, bolted the door from within and sat down on the bed. He
remained silently thus seated for some time...then he took her hand 
into his own and gently pressed it...she smiled without letting him see 
and waited to see what he was going to do next...!  She liked the way 
he touched her. Gradually, he bent towards her...she felt the warmth of 
his breath on her face and she recoiled almost fearfully...and thought 
of pushing him away. But when he put his hand on her back shoulders and 
whispered something thinly into her ear, she felt as though he had 
emptied a vial of an intoxicant on her and she had begun to float. She 
was breathing heavily as he began to explore her person with his robust 
hands Now fondling and pressing her breast to which she had squeezed 
her entire body like a coil...now unfurling her legs with his intruding 
 hand...transporting her into a world of ecstasy not experienced 
before...While these movements of his hands were having a telling 
impact on her entire being, they were also producing jingling sound 
from her bangles and other adornments she had put on for the occasion. 
Oblivious of all these, he kept exploring her person, now plastering 
her breasts with his hairy and robust hands, now exploring the dark and 
the most secure part of her person tucked away by design between those 
formidable thighs. She continued to breathe heavily as he continued 
without any let up with his exploratory activities. She was keen to say 
something; but before she could do that he had planted his lips on her 
lips and steadily rolled her down and. But she thought of stopping him 
midway...What was he up to...? why was he so hell-bent on doing it all 
so very quickly...? Could he not tarry a little longer...could they not 
do some talking...This was not the time to cross all 
barriers...Explorations were okay...but he seemed keen to break the 
barrier itself...this was the nuptial night....and it was supposed to 
be spent differently...hugging and kissing was okay, but not beyond 
that in the first encounter itself...Did he not have anything to talk 
about...? He was not utilizing his speech faculty...at best, he was 
using only his hands and lips....He seemed to be in a great hurry to 
conquer and she was surprised at her own inability to resist him and 
whatever little resistance she could muster was gradually thinning out 
and she was letting herself to be.... 

The fire had begun to crackle within and even the wet logs were
beginning to catch on...She looked at him with her half opened 
eyes...there was going to be no stopping him...She looked at his 
hands...his hairy hands...his broad chest bending on her 
uninhibitedly...there was not going to be any resistance...it was not 
possible to do that now... and she was delving deep into the river,.... 
slowly and steadily...and then she discovered she was floating on those 
mighty waves carrying her forward...now sinking deep,... now rising up 
on the water surface...she felt as though those  waves would drown 
her...and the prospects of getting drowned were so attractive that she 
wanted to linger in the pool of waters...watching him thusly engaged on 
her top, she felt as though the two of them were not two beings but 
one; perennially conjoined together, never to be moved asunder. So 
invigorating was the act and so complete was the joy of doing it all 
that she felt she was in a different world altogether...and that it was 
her destiny to remain there... When  waves subsided and petered out at 
the shore, she looked at him from between their merged breath with 
those eyes of hers that still appeared to be under the spell of the 
vial he had emptied. He now lay on his back and cracked fingers. He was 
yawning when she looked at him; and asked— “Why don’t you speak 
something...?” He smiled and stayed put. “I still can’t forget 
that...?” “Forget what...?” “The way you saved me from that sure....” 
“Look very impressed with that...” She nodded her head in affirmation 
and added, “The way you did it was something....” He yawned again. 
“Feeling sleepy....?” “Yes....?” “Let’s talk...” He was silent. “Should 
I tell you one thing....?” “What....?” “A woman is always inherently 
insecure and she regards man as a symbol of security...this is just one 
thing that makes woman a weaker sex and man a better sex....the way you 
saved me, it showed your manliness...and it is this trait that produces 
thrill.” “It was my duty...” “I don’t agree...if I were hurt and you 
had taken me to a hospital...nursed me back to health...this too would 
have amounted to providing security...but this would have been your 
duty...it would have put you on the pedestal of a better human 
being....but this would not have entitled you to manliness...” He 
smiled. He wanted to turn back to sleep, whereupon she said— “Going to 
sleep...?” “What else to do...?” “This is our first night...not meant 
to be slept off...we need to talk it out...” “I have the habit of 
rising in the morning. I can’t keep awake late...” “Just imagine a 
damsel standing on a balcony waiting for her beloved...soldiers 
guarding below. Despite all these risks, her beloved makes it to the 
balcony and encompasses her into his arms...oh! Imagine the kind of 
thrill she will have...!” He began to laugh; changed his stance, shut 
his eyes in an apparent effort to sleep. She too clung on to his 
back...and then when she closed her eyes, the entire roadside episode 
of her trying to cross the road and the subsequent events began to 
re-enact before her eyes. She moved still closer to him and in order to 
re-live the incident, she shut her eyes for so long that sleep finally 
began to take her within its grasp. 

Immediately after the wedding, papa had arranged for two tickets to
Kathmandu. The idea of going to Kathmandu for honeymoon was hugely 
exciting for her. She had visited once in her childhood. Visions of 
valleys and the greenery of the place were still etched out in her 
memory. She thought she would visit them all over again and enjoy them 
to her heart’s content....but he was not going to stay there long. He 
had only a week to spare by way of available leave...therefore all that 
was left for moving around was a mere five days...nevertheless, she 
busied herself in packing things. Papa saw them off at the airport. 

Her seat was by the window side. She was lost in watching the spectacle
of cloud from behind the window pane. From the recesses of clouds she 
could descry the spread of hills below...at times she could also get to 
see some stray buildings and some distant settlements here and there. 
From across the valley below she could feel the presence of a thin line 
of bellowing smoke from the river and petering out after covering some 
distance. The sight of the river water turning crimson as the rays of 
the setting sun were beating down on it had kept her thoroughly engaged 
and ...then suddenly, she was forced to look down at her own person as 
though something inside her was creeping and was unsettling her. She 
was crestfallen when she saw what had actually happened. This was the 
last thing she was expecting...on a trip to Kathmandu for honeymoon and 
this...! She was not at all prepared for this...could it not have been 
postponed till after two days of her arrival back to...! 

He was seated by her side and was munching a chocolate the air hostess
had given him not long ago. 

Without uttering a word, she indicated towards the bag above and asked
him to get that for her. This surprised him a little and wanted to know 
the reason why she needed the back in the middle of a flight. Turning a 
little crimson, she just asked him to get the bag. There was nothing 
great at stake. Just get the bag, she indicated. He then rose and 
picked the bag from the cupboard and handed over to her. She opened the 
bag and ensured that the towel with a packet tucked therein was there 
intact. She then zipped the bag close and took a furtive look or two 
around before gingerly moving towards the toilet. 

After a while when she returned to her seat, she could see some
inquisitive eyes peering at her. She breathed a little easy after 
resuming her seat, but she was uncomfortable just the same and this was 
abundantly visible on her face. 

The announcement was soon made by the air hostess that Kathmandu was
round the corner. The aircraft was preparing to land and they should 
fasten their seat belts and sit upright on their seats. It irritated 
her no ends that she should be in this state. She allowed herself the 
comfort of a smile at the possibility of his getting irritated when he 
would come to know about it. 

They found a fleet of holiday camp buses as they emerged out of the
airport. One of the representatives of the camp received them. There 
were other tourists as well. When they took their position in the bus, 
the camp representative said,” welcome to Nepal” and presented a 
garland of rosary beads to each of them. Then she thought with 
exasperation that they had to return in three days and in these three 
days they had to.... 

It was nine o’clock by the time they reached their hotel. He asked the
attendant to serve food in the room itself. He did not want to go down 
to the restaurant below at this hour and she too was tired. 

The door of the room opened on a small terrace. She moved into the
terrace and surveyed the area taking a long look around. The moon was 
slowly  rising from behind the hills. The road leading to the royal 
palace turned circular at some distance. It was wide and clean; and 
right at the centre of the roundabout, there was a massive statue of 
rhinoceros flanked by fountains on all sides. Fleet of cars was seen 
racing on the street called durbar marg. She pulled a chair and sat 
down to watch the spectacle of cars racing past the illuminated 
streets. “Won’t you have dinner...?” He called from inside the room. 
“Please come here...” “What’s that...?” “Please come and take a 
look....how beautiful the city looks from here...!” He came and stood 
by her side for a while and looked around. “Look at the retreating 
lights of the fleeting cars...” But it seemed he was not interested in 
this spectacle at all. “What’s the programme tomorrow...?” “First of 
all we go to Pashupatinath temple...” “I shouldn’t go there...” 
“Why...?” She just laughed as she looked at him. “But why shouldn’t you 
go there...?” “Oh, I can’t...I mustn’t...” “But what’s inhibiting 
you....?” “Try to understand...” “What should I understand...?” “Oh, 
just understand...I shouldn’t go...” “Give me some hint...” “I am just 
bored...” He looked at her in sheer amazement. Seeing him so amazed, 
she burst into laughter. “You too will be bored if I tell you...” “But 
why...?” This time he too smiled, almost whole-heartedly for the first 
time. And for a change, she liked his smile. “Never mind...” “Tell 
me...” “No, I won’t...” And she blushed. When the dinner was brought, 
she came in and dragged the chair from terrace to the table where the 
waiter served food. While partaking of food, he had enquired of her as 
to how was the programme going to be fixed for those two days...! She 
was keen to spend a night at Dhulikhel to enjoy the scenic beauty of 
the place...papa had described the beauty of it and she wanted to have 
the first hand feel of it all. It was decided after some deliberation 
that the first destination would be Pashupatinath Mandir, to be 
followed by a whirlwind tour of Swayambhu and Patan...then in the 
evening to the Super Market for stray purchases; next day, it was 
decided, they will visit the Dakshin Kali Mandir and proceed to 
Dhulikhel from there. After spending the night at Dhulikhel, they will 
drive straight to the airport for journey back home.... After finishing 
dinner, she once again went back to the terrace. He stayed put in the 
room itself. The number of speeding cars on the durbar marg had dropped 
down to a trickle and the moon had now emerged in full bloom from 
behind the hills. Suddenly, he switched off the light in the room. 
“What happened....?” She enquired. “Want to sleep now...” “Please take 
a look at the glamorous beauty of darbar marg...” “It’s getting 
ten....” “So what....?” “You just come in...” She walked in. “We should 
sleep now....” “Let’s do some talking...” Saying this she clambered 
over him a little. “What to talk about...?” “Just anything...” and she 
began to comb his hair with her fingers. “It’s my habit to sleep at 
this hour...” “Is it any time to....?” He turned towards her. “What can 
I do....It is my habit to sleep exactly at ten....” “Alright 
then...sleep...” She said in exasperation and lied down flat on her 
back. He also turned sideways and slept. It suddenly dawned on her that 
he was taking less interest in her...perhaps because she was passing 
through this stage...this is selfishness....he is a very selfish 
man...she was filled with a sense of aversion and on her tiring feet 
she came to the terrace...and looked all around for once. The series of 
dark hills bathed in moon light looked strange to her. For a while, she 
remained seated on the terrace. Then she bolted the door; shut the 
window opening towards the moon and lied down on the bed...for once, 
she looked towards him...He was fast asleep...She changed her stance to 
the other side and closed her eyes in an attempt to sleep...but the 
sleep was miles away from her eyes...and then she realized that she was 
filled with a deep sense of blandness...as if drops of  water were 
seeping through onto a beautifully created piece of painting... 

She remained in this state of intense blandness for long....at long last
drowsiness began to cast its spell in her eyes, and she turned towards 
him, clung to his back and slept... 

It was water everywhere. Brahma and Vishnu had survived. Life had to be
re-established. Both of them got involved in an argument....who is 
superior...you or me...! No decision could be made...then a resplendent 
phallus appeared in the sky with a celestial proclamation that whoever 
was able to see its end would be superior....thousands of years passed. 
No one was able to see the end of it. Brahma thought of a ploy and made 
Kamdhenu his witness and also enlisted the support of Ketaki (screw 
pine), Jaya (the china rose) and Bandhuk ( a red flowering shrub) 
flowers as witness and said to Vishnu...I saw the end of the luminous 
phallus and the witnesses also seconded his claim...then the celestial 
proclamation returned and Brahma was exposed. That is the reason why 
Brahma is not worshipped everywhere. Those three flowers too are not 
offered to Lord Shiva. Kamdhenu’s mouth too was declared to have been 
defiled. Brahma gave up his claim to being God. Both of them accepted 
that the resplendent phallus alone was God. Then the five-headed Shiva 
acquiring the shape of resplendent phallus became incarnated as 
Pashupatinath. 

Thousands of years have gone by. With the increase of vice on the earth,
the luminous phallus vanished and Lord Pashupatinath acquired the shape 
of a deer and began to move about in the forest. When gods came to have 
a glimpse of Shiva, they could not locate the luminous phallus there. 
In their quest, they reached Guhyeshwari Kund (a hidden reservoir). 
There they saw the esoteric Kali as an exceedingly beautiful young girl 
playing. They understood it all. Gods sang panegyrics and asked for the 
whereabouts of Lord Shiva. Kali then found out the whereabouts of Shiva 
moving about in the form of a deer. Gods sowed seven seeds in the 
forest and celebrated the occasion in a big way which culminated into 
fructification of several kinds of herbs. Lord Shiva who was in the 
form of deer was pleased with their devotion and made his appearance. 
Gods hurriedly clutched at his horns. Lord disappeared into the sky. 
They were left with the broken pieces of horn in their hands. Gods sang 
praises of the Lord. Lord was pleased, made an appearance and said— 
“I’ll always remain here in the shape of resplendent phallus. Establish 
the three pieces of horn in the three realms of the universe. He who 
sees me in this form of Pashupati will never again be born as pashu 
(animal)....” And Lord Shiva disappeared... 

Tired, she sat down on the steps of the temple. The priest informed that
the temple of Mata Guhyeshwari was on the other side of the river 
Bagmati. This area was also known as Maheshwar Kshetra. If one wished 
to go round the idol of deity there, one had to go from the northern 
road of Pashupati Bazaar. 

She turned her head towards the courtyard. The floor was tiled. The
walls of the temple were laden with heavy silver rope cables. Right in 
the centre were engraved massive copper cups with the polish of gold. 
The manager of the store was rubbing sandal in one of the corners of 
the courtyard. 

Pointing towards the distant hills, the priest informed that these hills
dated back to Indra’s time...Arjun had prayed and done his penance here 
to secure the Pashupati weaponry. “Where is Triveni Sangam....?” She 
asked. “Triveni Sangam is in the river bed of Bagmati. Parvati had 
taken bath there. On acquiring the form of a deer, and upon drinking 
the water of Bagmati, Pashupati was seated there.” Leaning against the 
wall, she closed her eyes for a while and felt as though drum was 
beating somewhere in the vicinity....she opened her eyes and looked 
towards the hills dating back to Indra’s time.... 

All those visiting the temple were throwing a cursory glance at her.
Seated thus on the steps of the temple, she visualized herself as 
devdasi (those unwedded dancing girls having dedicated themselves to 
the service of god and were referred to as temple prostitutes, also 
said to have been married off to the temple god) of yore times. She got 
up from there and moved into the courtyard, and looked at the mast of 
the temple from the edge of the courtyard. Her vision slipping from the 
top got fixed on the walls. The walls were covered with silver panels. 
Thresholds too were welded with silver. Her eyes were fixed on those 
silver panels when some one from somewhere whispered those words often 
repeated by David into her ears: 

“We have a young sister, and her breasts are still small. What will we
do for her when a young man comes courting? If she is a wall, we will 
build her a silver tower. But if she is a gate, we will protect her 
with panels of cedar” 

She was getting lost into oblivion...for once she looked around in
amazement...and then rose from the steps. 

They came out into the open. While passing through Pashupati Bazar, they
bought a garland of rosary beads. The eastern flank of the bazaar led 
to Atma Kund. Gaurighat was located there. While returning from the 
bazaar, they went to Gaurighat and viewed the stone where Parvati had 
done her penance. After making some round, she sat down near the bank 
of the river. “Got tired....?” He enquired. In reply, she just smiled. 

“We’ll take the taxi from here...” “Let’s visit Mrigsthali and
Dhruvsthali....” “Skip it now...we have to take our lunch...” 

He looked at the watch. It was getting two. 

Crossing the bridge, they came on to the main road. They had their lunch
in a restaurant, and took a taxi for Swayambhu.  When they reached and 
looked at the height at which the temple stood, she stopped at the 
steps. 

“What happened...?” “Need your support to climb up...” 

He extended his helping hand. She held him by his shoulder and began the
trek up. Monkeys were rollicking on the railings of the steps. 

“Look there...” with a broad laughter she pointed towards the monkeys.
“So, that’s it....now I know...why they call it monkey temple...” 

At the top end of the steps, close to the intermediary monument, was
established a massive statue. The temple was erected in pagoda style. 
In the passage leading up to the temple there were a number of nets 
wherein were kept a number of wooden wheels. 

“Look at these...they are prayer wheels...,” she said pointing towards
those wheels. “You’ve already visited this place...!” “Once in my 
childhood. The guide had told about it.” 

She threw a cursory glance all around. 

“This is one of the ancient places of Nepal...geologists claim that
there was a huge lake at this place...according to some scripture this 
valley was once an island...” “I don’t see anything special about 
it...” “There’s peace here...” she said with a listless smile and with 
her sad eyes looked at the township below, spread out long. 

They did not stay there long. They moved to Patan from there. They
visited the temples of Krishna, Shiva and Bhimsen at the Durbar Square. 
From there they moved to Super Market after paying a brief visit to the 
museum. They did some shopping there. In addition to buying a pair of 
shoes, some saris and sleeping gown for herself, she also bought a 
carton of 555 cigarettes for her papa and a lighter. She was also 
interested in a few electronic goods, but dropped the idea thinking of 
custom related hassles. 

He bought a shaving lotion and some razor blades for himself 

When they reached their hotel after taking dinner it was already past
ten. She was exceedingly tired. For a while she remained lying on the 
bed, with her eyes closed. Then she got up, pulled a chair to the 
terrace and sat there. 

The moon was in the bloom. Bathed in the moonlight, the hills presented
an enigmatic sight. Suddenly, he proclaimed from inside the room that 
he was going to sleep...and the water droplets had begun to fall on the 
beauteous painting...it seemed to her that she had come alone to this 
place and that she would have to return alone...extremely saddened, she 
thought this man had nothing to talk about...no topic to discuss...had 
no interest in history, myth...and had no inquisitiveness...no desire 
to know anything....just eat and sleep off... “It’s cold out there...” 
his exasperated voice once again rang out from within. “Shall I tell 
you one thing...?” she said incisively. “What...?” “I cannot sleep at 
this hour...” “But my habit is to sleep at this hour...” “Can’t you 
talk about anything...?” “What’s there to talk about...?” “Does it make 
any sense to sleep at this hour...?” “That is what I am habituated to 
do since very beginning...” “But I cannot at this hour...” “Then what 
should I do...?” “Talk...” she said garlanding him with her arms. He 
turned towards her. She thought he would take her into his embrace and 
plant a kiss on her lips...but he only turned towards her. Drowsiness 
was writ large in his eyes. “You always insist on talking only when its 
time for me to go to sleep” “We are supposed to be honeymooning 
here...” “Let me sleep...” “Just look out of the window...” He did not 
speak. “Let’s talk about Nepal.” He remained silent. “Didn’t you like 
Swayambhu...?” ................... “Swayambhu is two thousand-years 
old...” She glanced at him. He had fallen asleep. Hills burst into 
laughter....the shining moon in the middle of the sky seemed to have 
been afflicted with a painful ulcer... 

The following day they started off for Dhulikhel in a bus. The road was
plain for some distance, but soon it began to climb up. With the 
regular change of gear the noise of the engine began to reverberate 
through the valley. 

Her eyes were constantly surveying the turns and twists of the valley.
He was seated by her side and his head was shaking regularly....and the 
eyes were closed...’is sleeping...!!’ She thought loathly and in 
disgust looked away. The road seemed to have divided the valley in two 
equal parts. Hills on the northern side seemed forlorn and desolate. 
But the other side of the valley seemed richly bestowed with greenery 
and thick forestry. The sun was beating down on the distant hill tops 
that were shining, but the valley that was close lay in shade. 

After covering some distance in the plains, the bus negotiated a sharp
turn and this resulted in his head that was regularly shaking landing 
on her shoulder. Startled, he opened his eyes and asked,” how far have 
we come...?” Under the impact of sleep his eyes had acquired the 
redness of hare’s eyes. 

She remained silent and kept looking out in the same listless manner. A
hare came running from somewhere and raced into the nearest bushes. As 
the bus moved on, she plastered her cheek on the window pane and looked 
back to see the hare. It was not to be seen. On the plain road, the bus 
had acquired speed. 

It was evening when they reached Dhulikhel. After climbing the last
acclivity, the bus stopped near a field that was wide and flat. There 
was sufficient manoeuvring space for the bus. The hotel where they were 
to rest was only a few steps away. This flat and wide space did not 
seem to be the part of the hotel. There was a thin road that led  to 
the hotel. 

After getting down from the bus, they went to the hotel. After recording
their name at the reception, they made the entry. 

And she stood stultified.... 

It was deep silence all around...and the nature seemed to have plunged,
holding its breath, into the depth of this silence. Thus wonderstruck, 
she looked at the snow clad hill tops where the sun was steadily 
sinking deep, enveloping the hills under its sprawling orange wings. 
This was the courtyard of the hotel where she was standing. On her left 
was the hotel building while the remaining three flanks were open and 
....some chairs were placed on one side of the courtyard...waiters were 
leisurely going about their business....no sound was emanating from 
anywhere....it was deep silence everywhere...in the farthest end of the 
courtyard a couple was seen loitering about, holding one another by 
their waist...after that noisy experience of the bus climbing up, this 
silence was invigorating...she was descending deep into this highly 
mystifying silence. It seemed to her that those laid  chairs in the 
courtyard, leisurely movement of the waiters and the young couple 
encircling the area holding the waist of one another were weaving 
silence around and she herself was fast becoming a part of it. 

The lad suddenly bent forward and caressingly kissed the nape of the
lass...and she felt shiver down her spine...she thought this kiss in an 
attempt to register itself on silence accidentally slipped therefrom 
and planted itself on her nape. The face of the lass was on the other 
side, but she was confident that she must have had a smile of joy on 
her lips and her eyes must have had the redness of the morning sun... 

She moved up. There was a raised platform on one side of the courtyard.
The valley was clearly visible from there. Standing up on the platform, 
she looked towards the valley. A river appeared to have vanished into 
the valley. The billowing smoke from the valley was rising steadily. 
Perhaps the wind was not strong enough to scatter the smoke. She once 
looked up at the sky. Birds were flying in a circular way in a limited 
area. Then she looked towards the couple. They were still seated there. 
He was slowly sipping beer while  she was leaning on his shoulder. 

Suddenly she had the urge of coffee. She looked around. He was no where
to be seen. Then she remembered that he had moved towards the room with 
waiter in toe. And soon enough, she discovered him on the balcony 
upstairs; involuntarily beckoned him to come down, and she herself sat 
down on the platform. She liked to thus remain seated. 

Soon it dawned on her that the silence was gradually deepening and the
redness of the sun was making way for the darkness of the night. She 
looked up towards the sky and descried birds flocking back to their 
nests. A green group of parrots flew over her head and vanished into a 
nearby bush...a chameleon rustled its way up to the top of the branch 
of a tree and kept violently shaking its head...and when she also shut 
her eyes in sheer ecstasy, the evening became all the more colourful 
under her eyelids...the silence deepened further...and it occurred to 
her that she was steadily melting into the layers of deepening 
silence...becoming part of it...what an immeasurable depth of the 
silence was that...rock solid like the platform she was seated on...she 
could touch it, feel it with her hand....in sheer amazement she opened 
her eyes...shut them...and she felt it was the silence that occurred 
before creation...silence happening prior to existence in  which the 
existence itself was getting gradually subsumed....she was out of her 
senses...and then she very clearly visualized that slowly and softly 
she had branched out of her own physical self....and like the column of 
smoke now she spread out to the hill tops, to the tree 
tops...constantly getting divorced from the mundane world...fully 
liberated from temporal and spatial boundaries...into the river of 
endless joy...having no beginning...no end...now sinking deep...now 
rising up...now sinking... “What’s point in sitting like this 
here....?” “Are you in your senses...?” He was shaking her shoulder 
violently. 

The thread had snapped with a jerk...with a start she opened her
eyes...the blissful moments were gone...destroyed. “What are you doing 
here...?” She looked about herself for once....and soon realised that 
she was seated on a platform...she was in the premises of a hotel at 
Dhulikhel...and he was saying something to her. “Why are you squatting 
on the ground.....have you gone mad or what....?” It seemed to her that 
he was not speaking to her, rather he was giving violent shake to an 
iron chain...she collected herself, smiled blandly, as she said,” 
...here I am realizing my proximity with the creation itself...” “What 
madness...! You should be sitting on a chair...” 

A waiter was standing by, keeping his head bowed in deference to whom
she had ordered for coffee. “Not for me...” he said, raising his hand 
in the process. “Why...!” “I don’t need it...” 

She remained silent and sadly looked in the direction of that
couple...they were once again moving in that circular way, holding one 
another by waist. Her head was regularly touching the shoulder of the 
lad. When he again pushed her locks back caressingly, she felt he was 
again going to kiss her...but this time she did not feel any shiver 
down her spine...and then, as if tired, she closed her eyes...and then 
she could not help thinking for a while that this man could not even 
enjoy a cup of coffee with her...he takes her love for nature as 
madness...how lonely is she...how lonely...? 

Suddenly she felt she was in the grip of an unknown sadness...she wanted
to take control of her situation...when the waiter brought her coffee, 
she quietly sat down and began to silently sip it...and during this 
occupation with coffee she took a furtive look or two at him...he was 
quietly seated on the chair and was constantly shaking his legs... 

After a while when they went to their room, she nonchalantly lied down
on the bed and covered her face with her hands. 

After taking dinner, she once again lied down on the bed in the same
manner. He kept noisily clean his teeth. He sauntered about in the room 
for a while, switched off the light, came to the bed and lied down 
beside her, facing away from her. 

She found the atmosphere loathsome and disgusting. She rose from there
and went to the balcony. The sky was full of stars...the moon was in 
full bloom. She looked towards the hills bathed in the light of the 
moon, and she shut her eyes for a moment...suddenly she felt as if some 
one was  shaking an iron chain around her...she opened her eyes with a 
start....it was a deadly silence...not the silence of solitude...not 
the rhythmic silence of music...a silence....a dangerously eerie 
silence...hills were laughing...the moonlight was teasing...the 
branches of trees were dancing like elves...she thought as if a 
nocturnal monster was clasping her into its arms...and she was mortally 
frightened...she rushed inside and bolted the door from within... 

Thus mortally frightened she reached up to the cot and began to pant as
she went to the bed....she took a look at him....he was deep into the 
world of sleep...the silence became all the more deadly. 

She buried her face into a pillow and sobbed bitterly. The following
morning, they left for Kathmandu and after spending the day there, they 
took the evening flight back home. 

Three 

Immediately after reaching back the first thing came to her mind was her
papa and when the phone bell rang, she felt it must be from him. She 
hurriedly took the receiver of the phone. Her tiredness, her fatigue 
suddenly vanished like camphor. Papa was on the phone. Papa enquired 
about their well being and expressed hope that the trip must have been 
a pleasant one. She kept replying in monosyllables in order to keep it 
brief. Papa invited them to lunch on the morrow. As it was Sunday, he 
wanted to spend some time with them. She readily agreed and said that 
she would cook for him. 

After putting the receiver down, she took a towel and entered bathroom.
She felt fresh after the shower. Traffic mess on the road drew her 
attention once. She saw it and spreading the towel on the rope, she 
retreated into the room. The prospects of going to the kitchen for 
cooking food terrified her. It once occurred to her to dine out, but 
she he would not like that. She once opened TV, but soon closed it and 
went into the kitchen. times, she agreed to accompany him. After 
dinner, she wanted to sit in balcony. But when he proposed for a walk 
instead, she was irked. She was not interested in this kind of walk. 
But when he pleaded two or three They went below to the main compound. 
There were a few more inmates of the apartment. By the shake of his 
head he responded to their salutations. For the sake formality, they 
enquired about the honeymoon trip...when did they return...and whether 
it is less hot today...? 

They kept walking for about half an hour. She was merely accompanying
him. He told her that he would take her for morning walks as well and 
he began to list the benefits of morning walk and this irritated her no 
ends... 

“I find morning walks very boring...” “Why...?” “Only patients and old
people take to morning walks...particularly diabetic patients...in 
their midst one appears to have lived out one’s own age...” He began to 
laugh. “I can’t live a life of principles...” She too began to laugh. 
“But one has got to have principles in life...” “It simply does not go 
down well with me...” “But I have certain principles and I follow them 
meticulously...” “Beliefs and principles tend to tie one down to one’s 
inner self...there is a kind of inbuilt fear in a man and in order to 
rid himself of that fear he tries to cling to certain beliefs and 
principles...and these gradually take him into their tentacles...and he 
becomes a prisoner of sorts...” He remained silent. “I do not want to 
live in the shadow of any fear...I want to live in the reality of 
life...” “Your words are incomprehensible to me...” “The principled are 
stubborn...if you want to create a riotous environment on the earth, 
inject principles in man...all the wars that have been fought were 
fought on principles...” “You are talking rubbish...” “What I am saying 
is absolutely right...” She realized the atmosphere was getting tensed 
up. “Just forget it...for your sake; everything is acceptable to me...” 
He did not say anything. They went up. When inside the room, she looked 
at him in the light. Tension was writ large on his face. “Angry...?” 
She asked. “No...not at all...” He responded with a thin smile on his; 
but she did not fail to realize that the tension that their 
conversation had generated was present in the room. She opened the 
window. The tired moon was hanging in the midst of clouds. “Moon looks 
beautiful even in this situation...” she said normally. He lied down on 
the bed. “Please speak something...”she also took her position by his 
side. “What...?” “Anything...” “At this hour...?” “What of that...?” 
“It’s getting ten...” “The whole night belongs to us...” He remained 
quiet. “Look at the moon...” “I am feeling sleepy...” “No...please, 
let’s talk...” “What is there to talk about...?” There was exasperation 
in his voice. She became sad. “Anything....relate some incident of your 
childhood...” “There is no such incident to relate...” “Should I relate 
something...?” She gave a mild pull to a hair on his chest. “Uffff...” 
He squeaked. 

She laughed. “Switch off the light...” He said again. “Uffff...” It was
her turn to feel irritated. He then rose and switched off the light. 
She fixed her gaze on the moon...and suddenly she felt the robustness 
of his hand on her person and turned back towards him. “Moon has a 
relation with a woman’s body...” “What kind of a relation...?” “Same as 
with the ocean...” He remained silent. “Sage Vatsyayan has said that 
the moon resides in the body of a woman...” He was atop, bending over 
her. “Hear me, please...” “What’s that...?” he said in a very 
unbecoming manner. “Let’s talk about something...” “Again the same 
thing...” “I do want you to make love...but please talk...and then make 
love...” This time again when he tried to overtake her body fully, she 
retorted in protest— “You are always in a hurry...” “You always keep 
talking like this...” The rancour in his voice was more pronounced. 

This time when he turned towards her to take possession of her body, she
loosened her body. In the meantime, she could not help concluding that 
there was no room for tenderness in him. She sadly thought that he 
could well have first embraced her, then kissed her and said this— 
“Should I tell you...where exactly the moon is residing in your body at 
the moment...?” Then she would have laughed and teased him, “tell me 
where...” And his fingers would have danced down...on her face...on her 
shoulder...down to her breast...the moon is here...then further down to 
her belly...here...down to navel...here...then further down 
to.....here...and she would have feigned to been annoyed with him and 
would have shoved his hand away...’so you up to your mischief...’ Then 
he would have clasped her within his arms with more vigor and with 
passionate kisses, he would have said, “You only wanted to know about 
the location...the moon is...” 

But he is in a tearing hurry....it seems he is rummaging through his
wardrobe for something...his movements are artificial...and she is not 
feeling anything at all...neither the feel of those formicating ants on 
her person...nor the feel of those crackling fires within...no waves in 
breath...nor that great feeling of having been lost in ecstatic 
state...as if she was an unrelated item...an item for use...and look at 
the way he is making those movements...but why is she thinking like 
that...? Why is she not becoming just normal...? After all, he is her 
life partner...how had he leapt in the air...he is very manly. 

She looked at him once and closed her eyes; and tried to feel in herself
the waves of the river....while he was in the thick of his act ...and 
then she too began to feel that she was steadily sinking deep into that 
moment of bliss...as she too developed that urge to deposit herself 
into his bosom...and then she realized she was slowly progressing 
towards the river....just ready to descend...and now descending... 

Suddenly, he stopped...then there was no movement...and she could not
help looking at him with her half opened eyes...and when he began to 
turn sideways...the brimful impact of the intoxicant she had just begun 
to savor was on the wane...she opened her eyes now wide...looked at him 
once and clinging to his back, closed her eyes and tried to get into 
sleep...she did not want to be so wantonly weaned away from the impact 
of the magical moment that did not linger long... 

But he pushed her hand away from his person. She was hurt...she opened
her eyes as if in a shock...and then she realized she was never the 
part of that process...she was an item that was put to use...just like 
that wardrobe.... just like that drummer’s drum...and then she fully 
opened her eyes.... 

Now she was on the terra firma and he had turned away to the other
side...and she lying flat on her back was looking at the ceiling of the 
roof. 

Next day she was awake a little earlier than was usual. He had returned
from his morning walk and was presently polishing his shoes. He greeted 
her with a smile. “Got up rather early today...?” “Had bad dreams last 
night...” “And what was that about...?” “I saw myself standing 
half-sunk in the sand...” “You just change your habits...” “For 
example...” “Rising late...not going for morning walk...” “I just can’t 
do that...” “Why...?” 

“Morning is the pleasantest hour for sleep...and I cannot move with the
patients...amongst the old and the sick...” “Young and healthy people 
too go for morning walks...” “They are athletes who jog in the 
morning...they have a purpose...” “You too can have a purpose...” “What 
could be my purpose there...?” “That you will have good health...” She 
burst into a peal of laughter. “What is laughable about it...?” “This 
will mean living in future...” 

He remained silent. “I’ll not take to morning walks in order to improve
my health...if ever I take to it, it will be to live the environmental 
benefits of the hour...to enjoy the benefits of the moment...to enjoy 
the sun if the sun is up in the sky...to enjoy the rain if it is 
raining...” He opened the polish container, took a tinge of it on a 
corner of the brush. “Come on, give it to me...let me do the 
polishing...” rising from the bed, she came close to him. “I like to do 
my own work.” He spoke with sharpness in his voice. “Your work is my 
work too...” She said jovially. “This is my routine work...therefore, I 
only should do it...” “This too a matter of principle...?” “Of 
course...” She quietly watched him polish his shoes. Squatting on the 
floor, he was violently brushing one of his shoes...causing tremors in 
his body... “I find you are always in a hurry, no matter what you 
do...” She smiled. Now he had begun to apply polish on the other shoe 
and after sometime he paired them, held them aloft and kept them aside 
on the shelf meant for shoes. And he stood up. 

She had an urge for tea, but she had no desire to enter the kitchen
right then. She had to take it alone. He did not take tea in the 
morning. Nothing could be more irksome than to brew a cup of tea and 
drink it yourself, she thought. 

She threw a cursory glance to the book shelf. Randomly picked up a book,
turned some pages, shoved it back on to the shelf and forayed into the 
kitchen. During breakfast she generally remained quiet, but she was 
feeling some inexplicable pain and thought he too must be going trough 
the same kind of feeling. 

As they had to go to the papa’s, she changed her dress and picked up a
pair of shoes from the shelf for him to which he objected,” not this 
one...” In response, she turned and looked at him. “That brown color 
half-shoes...” “Is there some principle involved in this one too...?” 
“I use these shoes only for going out...and that black shoes only for 
office...” 

“And for morning walks...?” “Those canvas shoes...” When she began to
keep those back on to the shelf, he stopped her midway, “not 
there...keep them at the farthest end...” “Why...?’ “You disturb the 
sequence...” “What should shoes do with sequence...?” She was 
irritated. “Why not...? I do not disturb the sequence...everything 
should be kept at its rightful place...each one of them has its 
designated place...and each item has a definite time when it could be 
put to use...I can identify them by their sequence, merely by touching 
them even when it is dark...” Then he looked at the book shelf and 
smiled. “It seems you have handled books...?” “Why...?” “This book was 
not here...” “Where else was it...?” “By the side of this book...” He 
took the book out and placed it beside a fat covered book as he said 
this. “Do you ever read these books...or simply worry about their 
sequence...?” She became irritated. “Sequence is necessary...” he 
replied dryly. She remained quiet. She was quiet during the drive as 
well. He quietly drove on. During this intervening period she felt the 
inexplicable pain had steadily risen. Once or twice she looked askance 
at him. She could read the tension on his face. To get out of this 
spell, she thought of easing things. She turned to him with a faint 
smile and said— “What are you thinking...?” “Nothing....” “Something is 
definitely occupying your mind...” “I am not a philosopher like you...” 
“Do I look like a philosopher to you...?” “To me you look like a 
fool...” “Ha...ha...ha...” She burst into a peal of laughter, and thus 
laughing she realized that this laughter had emerged from the depth of 
her heart clearing the pall of gloom that had earlier descended on 
her....she chirped like a bird and said, ”I want you to speak like 
this...” “Why...” “There was so much affinity in your exasperation...” 
He remained silent. “Great...the sheer joy of it...!” She looked 
jovially at him with a broad smile. He too grinned this time. She liked 
this smile of his: natural. When they reached at the papa’s, he was in 
his study room. On hearing the blare of horn, he came out. With the nod 
of their heads the two of them exchanged salutations. 

To her papa looked sad and frail. “How was the journey...?” “First you
tell us...how are you...?” “I am quiet well...” “No, Papa...you haven’t 
been taking care of your health...” “I am fine....how did you like 
Kathmandu...?” “A beautiful city....but I couldn’t properly enjoy 
it...” “Why...?” “I was unwell.” “Then you should take care of your 
health.” “Nothing has happened to me...but you...” “Tell me, what are 
all the things you saw...?” “What are all things could we have seen in 
three days...?” “Did you go to Dhulikhel...?” “Oh! Wonderful...!!” 
“Pokhra...?” “Didn’t get an opportunity to go to Pokhra.” “Oh, you 
missed it.” “Yes, Papa...” “How did you like the township...?” this 
time papa turned to him. “Good place...” “Papa...today I’ll cook for 
you.” “Cook is there...why should you take the trouble?” “No, papa, on 
holidays you will eat only what I cook for you...” She started to move 
towards the kitchen when papa stopped her. “What are you doing...?” 
“Why...?” “The myrtle on your hands hasn’t dried up yet...” “But I do 
the cooking everyday at home...” “You can do it there...” “And 
here...?” Papa became silent. His eyes were wet. “Come on, we’ll sit in 
your room.” They went up. She looked all around. All things kept in the 
room looked to her sad and enveloped in mist. Books on the 
shelf...writing table....wardrobe....small 
TV set on a table in 
one of the corners of the room...and a rubber plant in the flower pot 
nearby... The soil in the flower pot was wet...she pointed towards the 
pot— “Papa...have you been watering it...?” “Yes...I want everything 
that belonged to you should remain fresh...” She opened the window. A 
stray branch of bougainvillea that had cropped up to the window 
trembled once and settled as she opened the window. Sadly, she once 
looked towards the river. Water of the river was like always sparkling 
under the impact of the sunlight. Fishermen were throwing their nets 
and the construction of electric crematorium had picked up speed. The 
work up to lintel had been completed. For a flash of second she 
wondered about the possible height of the building....she tried to make 
a blind estimate in her mind. Once the construction is complete, she 
thought, will it become so high as to block the view of that part of 
the river..... “What’s the position of your thesis...?” “I’ll now begin 
to work on it...” she said with a thin smile on her face. After some 
time papa went down. He too followed him. She pulled a chair and sat 
down in the balcony with chin planted on the railing. 

He had never enquired about her thesis work....She sadly thought of it
and shut her eyes...she was trembling and it seemed to her that she had 
gradually begun to sink deep into layers of mist...Suddenly it appeared 
to her that she was standing, plastered against a moss ridden wall; and 
across the wall on the other side, he was seated with his back turned 
towards her...She tried to reach out to the other side of the wall 
where a bonfire was crackling....she tried to feel the warmth of it 
with her extended arm...but the height of the wall seemed too much to 
her...She could not help wondering as to how this wall could come up 
here...and when she managed to touch him once with great difficulty, he 
moved further away...she wistfully looked at the bonfire...she felt she 
was drifting away from the warmth of ...and that she was destined to 
stay plastered to the moss ridden wall. “Food is ready...” She opened 
her eyes with a start; looked at the cook standing in front of her and 
rose from the chair. After lunch, they sat in the lawn. Papa delivered 
a long lecture on gardening, its finer points. He heard him in rapt 
attention. It made her happy to see him paying so much attention to 
what papa said and it surprised her too. Then he also inspected some 
flowers from very close. When he stopped by a rose plant, she thought 
for a while if only he plucked one rose from there and planted it in 
her hair-locks! The very thought of such a possibility gave her a 
thrill and she pushed back her head on the chair and closed her 
eyes...the blanching light of the noon that was on its way out seemed 
to spread itself in the horizon like fragrance releases itself forth 
from the closed petals. She remained in her reveries with eyes 
closed...gradually, silence began to permeate through the mist...the 
sound of his words was coming to her as if from a distance. It seemed 
she was hearing his voice in a dream...she opened her eyes...eucalyptus 
branch was vacillating quietly and its shadow in the declining noon had 
shortened considerably... 

After loitering about for sometime when he sat down by her side, she
smiled dimly and said— “I thought you’ll pluck a flower and hoist it in 
my hair...” He did not say anything. 

Soon tea arrived. “You...?” He nodded his in negation. Papa was watering
the rubber plant. After washing his hands, he came and took his seat. 
After tea when they prepared to depart for  home, papa came to the gate 
to bid them bye. 

On the way back, they stopped at a book stall. She leafed through some
books, bought a few magazines while he remained seated in the car. She 
occasionally looked askance at him. It appeared to her that he was keen 
to return soon. After buying those magazines, she occupied her place in 
the car and just looked up at the sky. Dark clouds had emerged on the 
sky. Cool breeze had begun to blow. The evening looked beautiful to 
her. She suddenly blurted out— “What a beautiful evening...don’t you 
think so?” In reply he looked at the sky. 

“Let’s go on a long drive...” “At this hour...?” “So what...?” “It will
get late...” “I don’t want to remain locked inside a room at this 
hour...” “How about the dinner...?” “We’ll have it in Moonlit...at 
times it is enjoyable to sit in a restaurant...” “It seems you are used 
to dining out...” There was sarcasm in his voice. “It all depends on 
the mood...I have often visited the place with papa...the Moonlight 
environment is highly romantic...quietly sipping coffee in one of the 
corners in a dim-lit environment is a joy in itself...this evening is 
something like that...” She looked into his eyes and smiled joyously. 
“This is against my principle...” 

She thought she was trying to see her face in a blind mirror. “I do not
unnecessarily sit in a hotel...I go to a hotel only when there is a 
party, or there is a guest for company, or when it is necessary to 
entertain some friend or...” “I too am your friend...” “You’re my 
wife...” “Can’t wife be a friend...?” He remained silent. “Let’s 
go...please...” “Where to go...!” “On a long drive...if not, to a 
restaurant....just we’ll have coffee and return...” He turned the car 
towards the restaurant. Upon reaching the restaurant, he cursorily 
surveyed it and fortunately chanced upon an unoccupied table in a 
corner. “It’s usually very crowded on Sundays...”she said, pulling a 
chair and sitting on it. “I’ve come here for the first time...” “Its 
good place ... the colourful backdrop of maroon light has an 
invigorating impact” When waiter came with the menu card, she turned 
towards him and asked, “What will you have?” “Anything...” He answered 
indifferently. “Should we ask for some soft drinks...?” He nodded his 
head in approbation. “I wish to live life in its originality...” “It’s 
necessary to follow certain principles in life...” “Principle-principle 
means you have to live in a limited space, whereas life has within its 
ambit the entire range of creation...we cannot see the beauty of life 
with the glasses of rules and principles...with the glasses of 
principle we can see only the beauty of our own dogmas and our own made 
rules...we feel we are secure in our beliefs and traditions. It is this 
sense of security that is indicative of an undercurrent of insecurity 
that is always present in our sub-consciousness...” 

“That means we should pursue a life bereft of principles...” His voice
had become harsher still. “Forget...let’s talk about something else...I 
don’t want such a beautiful evening ruined...” He remained silent. She 
once again looked at him. She thought he was passing through a phase of 
tension. The waiter placed on the table a plate of snacks. To ease 
tension, she picked the plate up and extending towards him, said, 
“Please take it...” Quietly, he picked a piece and shoved into his 
mouth. “Music is good, isn’t it...?” “Yes...” “Shall I tell you...?” 
“What...?” “Music does not mean sound of music...” “What else it is 
then...?” There was clear weariness in his voice. “Music means 
silence...silence that exists between two beats...” He began to laugh. 
Seeing him thus laugh, she said chirpily, “why...am I wrong...?” 
“You’re absolutely right...” “I’d heard similar music at Dhulikhel...” 
“In that silence....?” “You call it silence...?” “It had begun to 
frighten me...” “Yes, it happens like that...in the depth of quietude 
man’s real self comes to surface...if there is fear inside, it is fear 
that will surface; and if there is music inside, it is music that will 
be heard... He remained silent. She too quietly began to sip her 
coffee. 

When they walked out of the restaurant after paying the bill, evening
had settled in. Some stars had become visible. Seated in the car, she 
once again looked at the sky...but this time she did not say anything.  
and he too kept on quietly driving the car. 

Upon reaching home, he changed his dress. After dinner he engaged
himself with a TV serial while she lied down on the bed and began to 
leaf through Loutse’s Tou-Te-King. Then she realised that it was 
already past ten; he would walk in anytime, and no sooner he walked in 
than he would ask her to put out the light. And it happened exactly as 
she had thought...immediately upon coming in...it irritated her a great 
deal, but this time she controlled herself and addressed him smilingly— 
“Don’t I have the permission to read...?” “Go to the other room...” 
“But you are here...” and put her arms across his neck. “It is my habit 
to sleep at this hour...” 

She did not speak. “Read in the morning...morning is the best hour for
reading...” “That’s the time for reading lesson books...” “Whatever the 
nature of books, that is the ideal time for reading...” said he 
changing his side as he prepared to sleep She clung to his back. She 
was feeling the robustness of his back on her breast. She shut her 
eyes. But soon he softly pushed her hand away from his back and said, 
“Please don’t disturb...” 

She was stung to the quick....it pricked her severely...she opened her
eyes...for once looked at the ceiling of the roof and then lay flat on 
her back...she felt as thought he cast her away....don’t disturb....she 
felt her eyes  wet...she clenched her teeth, twitched her lips in an 
effort to keep her from breaking into tears and rose from the bed. 

She put on the light in the drawing-room, looked about the room.
Tou-Te-King was still in her hand. This way the life will become 
hell...she thought sadly, seated on the sofa...but why is she keen to 
read on the bed itself...she will have to bring about a change in 
herself...she will have to adjust herself in this atmosphere...she 
should find a reading room ....she had to complete the thesis as 
well...if she concentrated  on her thesis, some of s bitterness will 
go...otherwise, living like this.... 

Though seated in the drawing room, she felt she was sitting in a waiting
hall meant for passengers, and the man sleeping in the other room was 
her distant relative with whom she had just concluded a formal 
interactive session. It was loathsome to think that the man must sleep 
at ten...alas! If only he once asked her as to what she was 
reading...how delighted she would have been...life would have become so 
enjoyable if only he had evinced some interest in books...every night 
she would have been discussing some new topic...would have talked about 
Simon-De-Buwa, Virginia Woolf and Van Gag..., sometimes she would have 
used his chest as pillow to read him the rhythmic lines of Rasool Hamza 
Tauf that you could not infuse speed in wind by blowing it by your 
mouth...and that a man should kowtow only on two occasions in his life: 
first, while drinking water from a rill and  second, while plucking 
flowers...sometimes she would have discussed metaphysics.....sometimes 
Sufis...sometimes yogis...or sometimes lamas and their concept of 
subtle bodies...how subtle bodies could....or how body anecdotes...and 
how the out of body experiences could all be passed through the sieve 
with the same thread....but this man is a mechanical creation...loaded 
with robotic programmes....sleep at ten at night...get up at five in 
the morning....polish your shoes at six....at twenty minutes past six 
you must be in your bath...break your fast at seven...at eight to your 
office...oh! that thing packed in the cover of principles...where there 
is no trace of truth...where only the dictates of a conditioned and 
programmed mind can work: put out the light at ten...but she could not 
live this life....she will read in the other room...rise in the morning 
and read...as if a home work that needs to be completed in the 
morning... 

Throwing the book on the table, she disdainfully looked about the room
and clumsily walked up to the balcony. Holding the rods in the balcony, 
she once looked outwards. Traffic had dropped to a trickle, but the 
betel shop at the crossing was still open. Lights in the nearby 
buildings were not yet switched off. She could clearly hear the click 
of switch going on and off in an adjoining flat. She ran her eyes all 
around her, and for a while it looked to her that she was a prisoner 
peeping through grill of her cell. Balcony was duly covered on all 
three sides with iron rods right up to the end of terrace which 
prevented her from peeping down. She sadly looked down as she could and 
then moved back...it just looked like a cage. She thought for a while 
and returning to the room lied down on the bed. 

He was lying in the same direction. She realised he always lied down in
that very manner...perhaps this too had something to do with his 
principles...she once looked in his direction...he was in deep slumber. 


In the dim light of the night, his lying body looked like a statue made
of pigmented iron. She once thought of giving him big shake just to see 
if he rises...will annoy him...might begin to shriek...disturb...I 
disturb him...oh, why does she wants to cling to his back...perhaps 
this too was a sense of insecurity....always present in the 
sub-conscious of a woman...what was the meaning of this intense desire 
of clinging to the bosom of a male...how wonderful will it be if he 
changed his side and enclosed her into his arms and dreamily 
asked....you are still awake...! What will she feel then...? Absolute 
sunlight....or total rain....but why was he going to turn....he has 
tied down everything to a time slot....why should he talk to her 
now....she too must go to sleep... 

She turned on his side and remained lying. She should complete her
thesis....if only he had enquired once....nevertheless, she must start 
it all over again....if she became involved in her studies, there will 
be lessening of tension...studies....he is a robot....what is out of 
body experiences, mister robot...what is the.... 

Drowsiness had begun to take toll on her eyes...she moved closer to him;
and cling to his back, she slept off. 

She got up rather early in the morning. He was about to start for his
morning walk. He looked at her and smiled, “got up early again 
today...” She smiled in response. “I think I should put myself in your 
mould...” “That’s great.” “If only I get to have bed-tea in the 
morning, I’ll have crossed a big hurdle...” “Brew and take it...” 
“That’s what is difficult...” “Why...!” “Bed tea has to be enjoyed on 
the bed...open your eyes and tea before your eyes...” “You will have to 
do it yourself...” “Should I say one thing...?” “What....!” “You start 
taking morning tea....I’ll start morning walk....” “Morning tea....give 
it up, it harms...” “No extra efforts will be required for that...” 
“Why...?” “Prepare tea and drink it yourself...this is disgusting...” 

He began to tie shoe laces. He then looked at the watch and walked out.
For sometime, she remained lying down resting her head on the 
elbows...then got up and went into bathroom.\ 

As usual he returned from his morning walk at six and sat down to polish
his shoes. Then when he entered bathroom, she could not help looking at 
the watch. It was ten minutes six...strange...!! She thought with a 
sarcastic smile. 

After breakfast he sat down on the sofa with the day’s newspaper. This
was the time when he took horlicks. When she went to the kitchen to 
prepare the beverage for him, the bottle of horlicks was empty. “There 
is no horlicks...” “Why...?” He lifted the head from the newspaper and 
looked in her direction. “It’s exhausted...” “What you keep doing 
then....!” His voice had acquired sudden sharpness. She remained quiet. 
“You can’t take care of such a simple thing that I take horlicks after 
breakfast.” “I just didn’t remember...” “What I just didn’t 
remember...is that an explanation...?” “Why are you getting wild on 
such a trifling matter....?” She too got annoyed. 

Thus annoyed, he went to office. She too remained seated for a while in
the same state of mind. Then she checked all items of everyday need, 
prepared a list of things that needed to be procured from the market, 
changed her attire and went out. She walked down up to the main 
crossing, purchased things from the departmental store, some fruits and 
sweets and returned to the flat. Looked at the watch...it was eleven. 
After finishing her kitchen work, she pulled a chair and sat down in 
the balcony. The traffic had come to a halt near Mouryalok. A scooter 
was hit by a car. Both of them were arguing. They were both holding the 
other person responsible for the accident. It suddenly occurred to her 
that she was sitting there for apparent reason...as if passing of time 
was her objective. Sadly, she looked at the rubber plant in the flower 
pot. She dragged the pot away from the sun and put it in a shaded area, 
went inside the room and lied down. Briefly when she closed her eyes, 
it appeared to her that there is heap of dried leaves  around her and 
that some thing because of disuse has begun to wither away in her very 
within...! 

Once again she found herself in the same inexplicable sadness, but in
order to extricate herself from the clutches of it and to take control 
of the situation, she rose from her seat and looked about herself 
searchingly; picked the radio set kept on the table, switched it on, 
then switched it off in quick succession...time appeared to have become 
impassable.... 

She was greatly surprised that though she had been accustomed to living
alone, she had never encountered this kind of loneliness before....she 
never felt alone when she was with her papa...but now when she had her 
own home, she had become so lonely....as though she was covered with a 
velvety linen called loneliness...when in fact in the soft and tender 
touch of velvety sensations used to transport her into a world of 
melody...melody of solitude...gradually merging into her 
being....starry night and the sparkling water of the river...gingerly 
shaking branches of banyan trees...roaring sound of vehicles on the 
road...all these were integrated with that velvety sensation.... 

But she cravingly looked about herself...the solitude here resembled the
crawl of lizards on the walls....exploring her person with her profane 
fingers...and he...her co-traveller...! How is he walking his own way, 
turning his back to her...and what is this route she has taken...a long 
stretch of debris of dried leaves...dried twigs and in their midst the 
wind wailing like a patient....the moon in the sky like a painful 
boil... 

She pulled a pillow and pressed mildly against her chest and took a look
around. On one side in the bottom shelf shoes were kept in a 
sequence....grey shoes were kept at the nearest end, then canvas shoes 
which he wore when he went for morning walks. Pump shoes in black 
colour were the next...followed by slippers in a sequence...there was a 
vacant place which was meant for the dark shoes that he wore for going 
to office. Books too were arranged in a sequence. Cravingly, she once 
again looked around....from every pore of the walls she seemed to see 
the trickles of alienation emerging...the portrait of Bruce Lee on the 
shelf...it seemed to her that all these objects dreaded her possible 
touch...she did not have the right to even touch or feel them...the 
sequence...she will disturb the sequence.... 

A poisonous smile appeared on her lips...she was amazed that so far she
had not been able to establish any kind of rapport with the things in 
this house...in fact, when she had come here for lunch with papa for 
the first time, she had felt somewhat drawn towards the things 
here...there was an inquisitiveness about them then...and now...!! Now, 
when it is her own home....!!! 

But is this a home....? Is this what is called a home....? Is it a home
or a remand home where each is trying to bring about an improvement in 
one another.... 

She felt a strange kind of restlessness and lied down changing her
side....everything will be all right...she will gradually adjust 
herself...he will bring about some change in himself to accommodate 
her...but is that possible...! He is hard and robust....a fixed 
quantity...solid and immobile, he cannot take any hue...it is she who 
must adjust...perhaps, adjustment is man’s destiny...but how was she 
going to adjust....! Could she take to sleeping at ten at night, take 
to morning walks...and gulp horlicks in lieu of tea...! 

She felt her restlessness was growing...she sat up...looked about
herself....went to the kitchen...took out a bottle of water from the 
fridge, filled a glass with water; and looking vacantly at the wall in 
front, she began to sip it by and by, slowly and slowly...she thought 
she is the only being in the whole flat who sauntered around like a 
nocturnal being....as if there is no rationale of her existence....she 
was not thirsty, yet she poured water for no apparent reason and drank 
it....she was greatly surprised—when she was not thirsty at all...why 
did she walk into the kitchen...! 

Replacing the bottle back into the fridge, she went to the drawing-room
and out of sheer weariness sank into sofa. She looked up at the wall 
clock. It was getting two...he will be on his way...is she expecting 
him then...is she waiting for him....! Is this called waiting...! No 
thrill....no pang....just a sense of boredom...he will come for 
lunch...and she like a devoted wife will serve him food...then he will 
go back to his office...and she like every other day will get into the 
business of preparing food in the evening....he will eat dinner exactly 
at nine....will see news at half past nine....and will put out the 
light at ten.... 

The call bell rang out. She opened the door. He came in. There was a jar
of horlicks in his hand. She took the jar from his hand and was about 
to keep it on the shelf when he called out— “This is not its designated 
place...” “I know its designated place....I’ll keep it there...” “Then 
what’s the use of keeping it here...?” “As I was talking to you now I 
just kept it here...what difference does it make....?” “It makes the 
difference...” his voice was still rancorous. “Uff! What a queer sort 
of man....” She thought bitterly, picked the jar and went into the 
kitchen. He also followed her into the kitchen. “Is anything to be 
brought from....!” “I have brought...” “Well....!” “Why....! Can’t I 
bring things...?” “At least you did one thing...” “Do you think I am 
nincompoop...?” She smiled. 

He began to laugh. 

She remained quiet during lunch. He also quietly munched his food. She
realised that he did not talk much while in the process of eating; 
rather, he liked to focus his entire attention on eating itself. 

After finishing lunch, he gulped down two or three tumblers of water,
then belched and rose from the chair. She was filled with distaste when 
he belched. She observed that he did not have the habit of drinking 
water when in the midst of eating; rather he chewed each grain properly 
and drank several glasses of water only after he had finished eating. 

She thought it was a method of eating prescribed in a book of hygiene
which he must have crammed. 

He was pacing leisurely in the drawing-room. While remaining thus
engaged, he belched again once or twice and this filled her with 
intense hatred. She looked at him sardonically. Now he was cleaning his 
teeth and was occasionally making that obnoxious noise from his mouth. 
She once thought of pointing this out to him, but she did not because 
she knew he would take umbrage... 

She rose from there and lied down in the bed room. Looked at the ceiling
of the roof and closed her eyes...it seemed to her that a storm was 
raging outside...dust was gathering in the room...she was forced to 
breathe in this room now full of dust. 

She kept lying there after he left for office. Soon there was a thunder
and it began to rain in torrents. This sudden bursting forth of rain 
was to her liking. She opened the window and began to enjoy the sight 
of the rain falling. And it suddenly occurred to her that there were 
clothes in balcony left for drying. She came to balcony. Rain water was 
sprinkling inwards. She hurriedly collected the clothes and came inside 
the room. 

The call bell rang out suddenly. She opened the door. He stood there,
fully drenched. “You’ve got wet...” she said, surprisingly. 

Water was oozing out of his head. His shoes were wet and heavy. One of
the buttons of his shirt had opened exposing his chest; one of his 
locks dangled on his forehead. Thus drenched he presented an innocent 
and simple look. 

“Towel...get me the towel...” said he, unfastening the buttons of his
shirt. 

She got the towel. He removed his shoes; covered the towel around his
body, removed his pantaloon, rubbed his feet vigorously on the door 
mat, went inside the room, opened the wardrobe, fished out his sleeping 
suit, put it on and wiped water off his hair and head with the towel. 

“Should I get you some tea...?” She said, but soon she realised he would
not like to have take tea. “some snacks...” he replied. She went to the 
kitchen, made sandwiches, brought out some sweets from the fridge and 
after handing over to him the plate of snacks, she went in to brew tea. 


After he was through with his snacks, she brought tea and sat beside him
The rain had begun to slow down. She ran her eyes through the 
window...the clouds had cleared up. The evening to her looked very 
captivating and sitting together like this in an environment as 
enticing as this she was heartily enjoying this bout of sipping tea 
with him. 

Suddenly it dawned on her that there was a sparkle of warmth in the cool
breeze of the evening and it was steadily intensifying. It enlivened 
her. “Let’s go, please...” “Where...?” he looked at her in amazement. 
“Just anywhere...just outdoors...” “In this rain....?” “It’s stopped 
raining...” He stayed quiet. “Just see....how fresh and invigorating 
the evening is...” “But where will you like to go...?” “We’ll sit 
somewhere in the open...” 

After a while he rose and started to change his dress. It seemed to her
that he rose involuntarily. He stopped short at the door. “What 
happened....?” “Milkman comes at this very hour...” 

She smiled. “He will drop it at the neighbor’s....” “What’s harm if we
started a little later...?” “The very joy of it will have gone if the 
evening is lost out...” “At least we should inform someone....” “I’ll 
tell the neighbors...” 

She went to the adjoining flat and returned immediately after doing the
needful. 

They got down. “I’ll drive...” “Do you keep the license...?” “You are
with me...” 

Taking a turn from Rajendranagar crossing, she took to the by-pass road.


“Where to...?” “Long drive...” “Is there any sense in it...?” “This road
is less crowded...” “Where exactly you are going...?” “Just on long 
drive...” She smiled. 

He was quiet. 

“Are you angry...?” “Drive slowly.” “How joyful...?” She increased the
speed still more. His hair had begun to fly in air. He began to close 
up the pane. “Leave it...” “This is madness.” “What will be the joy of 
it then...?” “This shows lack of discipline.” “What’s the question of 
discipline in it...?” “Why not...? Driving is also governed by certain 
rules...” 

“Road is free...therefore, I am enjoying fast driving...” “Accidents
could happen...” “Yes, it’s possible...” “Then...?” “Why must we lose 
this moment...?” A car from behind blew horn for seeking pass. “Slow it 
down...” He shouted in anger. “You seem greatly scared of death...” 
“Let’s return...” He said angrily in a stentorian voice. “Let’s take a 
look at the river...” She continued to smile. 

He became silent. She looked askance at him. There were clear marks of
irritation on his face. 

“See...now I am driving slowly...” She looked squarely at him with a
smile. 

He remained silent. 

“I enjoy the slow driving also with the same intensity...” “These are
all bogus talks...” “What...?” “This philosophy of yours...” “This is 
the only way of living I know...” “Let’s return...” “Rani Ghat is just 
ahead...” 

She took right turn. Approaching the bank of the river, she parked the
car and got down. 

She gave a long look to the sky. It was clear and azure. “Come
on...let’s sit here....”She indicated towards the steps on the river 
bank. 

Water level had increased. The last step of the bank was under water.
She sat down on the farthest step. A pair of cranes was seen moving 
along the bank. Hearing the sound of footsteps they flew and perched on 
a boat half sunk in the sand. 

“I had come here with papa...” “I don’t find anything special about
it...” She looked at him attentively and then said sadly, “why...?” 
“This is not a tourist place in any case...” “Do we have to visit a 
place only because it’s a tourist place...?” “I mean there should be 
something that....” “Its there...” “Where...?” “Here...right 
here...this river...” She smiled with a mysterious glow and rested her 
face on her knees.... “Let’s go back...” he said in a distasteful 
voice. 

She remained silent....and with the fingers of her legs fiddled and
played with water once or twice. A mild clucking sound or two emerged 
briefly and then subsided into the regular sound of the flowing water. 

“What is there to see here...?” His exasperation seemed to grow. “Just
listen carefully...what this sound of water is trying to convey...” 

He laughed. 

It seemed to her that he laughed in exasperation. She shoved her feet
into slippers and stood up. 

The wind had grown cooler. She shivered a little...the evening had
deepened....a pair of birds had taken off with homing instinct. Taking 
his hand into her own hand, she whispered softly, “Let’s go...” He at 
once jerked off his hand from hers. She got the message: walking in the 
open with hands held together was against his principle. 

This time he took over the charge of driving. She was seated by his
side. After remaining silent for sometime, she began to chirp yet 
again. Then he snubbed her saying that while driving he did not like to 
talk much...it diverts attention... 

Despite the snub, she was trying to stay normal and it made her happy to
think that he came out with her on this long drive. In this manner she 
thought she will mould him in her own color. 

She hurriedly cooked food for dinner. After finishing dinner when she
lied down on the bed, it began to rain. She liked the onset of rain at 
this hour. She closed her eyes in an attempt to hear the sound of the 
rain falling. Suddenly, strong wind began to blow and window curtains 
began to flutter violently. When she rushed to shut the window, the 
curtain swirled around her neck. The wind was ice cold and she began to 
shiver. She disengaged herself from the curtain, shut the window and 
lied down on the cot once again. She suddenly realised that the cold 
wind was actually generating heat and seemed to be igniting her veins. 
She stretched her body and sat up. She threw a glance to the lounge 
where he was watching a TV serial...will come at ten...not before 
that...she again stretched her body with a twist...her joints seemed to 
be aching. She thought she was in no mood to read at this hour. Is it 
that she needed him now...she could not help smiling at her mental 
state...she thought she was really feeling as if ants were crawling on 
her person and weaving a net around her....and she seemed waiting for 
him on the bed... 

After a short while he actually came, switched off the light and lied
down on the bed. “So it’s past ten already...?” she said teasingly. 
“Why...?” “You’ve put out the light....” “This is a routine matter...” 
“That’s why I said its past ten already...” 

He was silent. She turned towards him and lied down. He lay quietly.
Soon he cracked his fingers...once or twice cleaned up his nose and 
turned his back to her and remained lying. 

For sometime she too remained lying without making any kind of movement.
Then she shook her legs and in the process she felt his sole...for a 
while he allowed her legs to stay in that position...then she activated 
her hands in such a way that they touched his buttocks....even then he 
had not turned towards her...for some time she remained like 
that...then she clung to his back and said— 

“Slept off...?” 

“Huh!” He mildly tried to push her away. “Am I disturbing you...?” Her
voice was considerably mellowed. “Please let me sleep...” He pushed 
hard at her hand . 

The sight of half burnt logs began to float before her eyes...she hated
herself for all this....after all, why was she so keen to draw him 
close...? Particularly when she knew he could not keep awake beyond 
ten, then why did she try to entice him...? Was she really that keen to 
have his proximity...? Proximity of a robot whose all acts were 
mechanically driven...! he who had no relation with nature...she rose, 
fuming; went to the drawing room and sat down in a huff...this man has 
no sensitivity at all...look at the way he shoved her hand 
away...disturb...ah!...I disturb him...! 

She suddenly rose from there and dialed papa’s number. When papa
enquired about her well-being, her voice choked, but she controlled 
herself and said that she wanted to complete her thesis...he should 
come with all her books. 

She felt a little relieved that with the resumption of studies there
will be an easing of tension.... else, she thought she could not 
survive in this manner... 

Alas! If only she had understood him properly, the situation would have
been different....nothing wrong if he wished to live by his 
principles....what difference could it make...but at least he should 
try to understand her feelings...he lacks in the ability to appreciate 
beauty...how he turns his back to her and sleeps off...how conditioned 
is he...like the dog of Pavlov...recognizes only the sound of the 
bell....no intensity of hunger...no sooner the clock struck ten than he 
is attacked by sleep...what if someone were to pre-set the time....? 
When he sees the needle at ten he begins to sleep...this is what 
happens...strict compliance to rules makes a man conditioned...he does 
not understand truth...he cannot live life in its manifold details...he 
needs support....the support of a massive stone representing rules and 
principles...he wants to cling to that...he leads a mechanized 
life....look at the way he has slept off at this hour...alas! If only 
he could understand her...but, well...even she has not been able to 
understand him...it amazed her that she got tied down to him...? Don’t 
know how papa read him...perhaps those days she was passing through a 
weak phase of her life...papa too was beset with the problem of ridding 
himself of the responsibility...perhaps one always took wrong decisions 
in the moments of weakness...she really took a wrong decision and she 
must face it all her life....but was that moment a lie when he leapt 
into air like a leopard...what else a man should be like...at that very 
moment he was what he should have been- a man...ah! Never again did he 
ever hold her in his bosom like that...if only that moment had not come 
into her life, this day would not have come in her life....definitely, 
it was that moment that had trapped her and now that very moment had 
become a perennial wound afflicting her soul... 

She felt a strange sense of restlessness. She rose from the sofa. Took
out a bottle of water from the fridge, gulped some water down and lied 
down on the cot. The rain had begun once again. He lay, oblivious as 
always, in that familiar posture of his...suddenly she felt it was not 
the sound of rain but the wailings of a patient that was filling the 
room...she sat up...took a book from the shelf, went to the sofa and 
sat there. 

As she was turning the pages, she thought everything was not lost as
yet...this was just the beginning....everything will fall in 
grooves...gradually she will rally him round and generate his interest 
in books...develop his aesthetic sense...she will make him understand 
the meaning of tender handling of flowers...that mist spreads inside as 
well...and man’s childhood is hidden in the water bubbles that run on 
wires...but was aesthetic sense a thing that can be developed by 
training...if there is no seedling inside, can it sprout by 
training...no, not at all...!! Nothing of the kind will happen...she is 
in a hopeless situation...he is a flat character...he has 
principles...no sensitivity...his principle is to sleep at ten...it 
cannot go from ten to fifteen past ten...how painstaking she was trying 
to entice him and how wantonly he turned his back to her and slept 
off... 

It surprised her no ends that she actually thought she needed him at
this moment of time....how about those moments of slowly growing heat 
within ...? What if he actually bent over her now...? What if he 
actually rose from the bed, came to her and with a tender touch of his 
hand pushed her locks behind and asked...what are you reading...? 
Oh....! And what if he kissed her lips and said...my love...let me also 
hear something you are reading...then perhaps she too would put her 
arms into his... 

She rested her head on the sofa and shut her eyes...it occurred to her
that he had enveloped her and had been raining kisses on her. 

He crouched on the sofa...he was breathing heavily...the impact of those
kisses was so strong on her that she felt as thousands of ants were 
weaving net on her body...and he with his robust hands was cuddling her 
breast... 

“Look, this is not the way to do it on sofa...” “Never mind, we are in
our own home...” “Just listen to what Rasool Hamza Tauf says....” “What 
does he say...?” “He says mist is the tear of the mountain...” “Oh, 
that’s great...” “Listen to what else he says...” “Skip it now...” “Oh, 
no, just hear it...” “What else there is to hear...?” “And that when 
water rises up to shin, do not raise your skirt above knees...” “My 
love...” he whispered into her ears. “Talk about something...” 
“No...I’ll only make love...” “Make love...but talk too...” 

She crouched further and deposited her head between her
knees...gradually the ants weaved a strong web around her...she was 
clearly feeling his touch...she had begun to breathe more 
vigorously...and it appeared to her that he was doing it exactly the 
way she wanted it...he was in no hurry at all...he was making slow and 
steady progress...he was both talking and making love to her...suddenly 
he opened the window by raising his one hand ...and by planting his 
visage on her visage he had fixed his gaze on the moon up there in the 
sky...then she too had opened her eyes and had realised that they were 
not passing through the process of any mechanized act; rather, at the 
moment they were engaged in a creative activity and in this moment of 
mysterious joy their relationship had acquired originality and had 
scaled the acme belonging to the realm of ancientness. 

Next when she rose, her mind weighed heavily....she was not willing to
do anything...but it was necessary to ready breakfast for him...left 
bed listlessly and busied herself in the kitchen to prepare his 
breakfast. After he went to the office, she threw herself on the 
bed...she did not even brush her teeth... 

Suddenly, the call-bell went off...must be the litter-boy...she
thought...rose from the bed, went to the door, and peeped through the 
key hole: the newspaper hawker stood there. The paper also had the bill 
attached to it.  She threw a cursory glance to the headlines and put it 
aside. 

The call-bell rang again. This time it was the litter-boy. Picked the
dustbin from inside the kitchen and deposited it outside the door. Shut 
the door and again flung herself on the bed. 

How will it go this way....? This way....she should collect
herself...she looked at the wall clock...it was nine...how difficult 
will it be to spend the whole day...she thought helplessly...but this 
is not the way...!! 

Then she rose resolutely, brushed her teeth...had bath, took her
breakfast and sat down with the newspaper in hand. The phone rang after 
a while. She picked the receiver. He was on the line. He informed her 
that he was going to attend an important meeting. He would not be able 
have lunch at home...he could return by seven in the evening... 

Good riddance, she thought after slamming the receiver down. She was
feeling greatly relieved. It amazed her to think that even this brief 
relief was after all was capable of providing her so much 
comfort...cooking food for him and waiting for him....she looked at the 
wall clock...it was ten...she was absolutely free up to seven in the 
evening...these nine hours wholly belonged to her...she had no 
responsibility on her...she was completely liberated...it was not 
necessary for her to cook for herself...if she so desired, she would 
not do just anything...she could just spend those nine hours simply 
resting or lying down...it soon dawned on her that she was gradually 
feeling the growing distance with him...that is why his not coming for 
lunch was a matter of relief for her...the more she wanted to lead a 
free life, the more she was getting tied down to a tether 
post...therefore, these nine hours of freedom were very dear to 
her...but then she was once again going to lapse into that life of 
tension...prepare dinner...eat...and then sleep...no...she cannot sleep 
at ten...this is just not possible...she will live her own life...why 
not she lights up the table lamp...she could keep it focussed on the 
table...she could very well read in that limited and focussed 
light...and he will not be disturbed...she disturbs him....? He has 
disturbed her...he is snuffing life out of her day in and day out...and 
she is trying to make adjustments...but is this an adjustment...? He 
too must do some adjustments...this is not adjustment...this is the 
execution of the programme of death...she is dying slowly, 
painfully...she is dying within...something within her is withering 
away because of disuse...gradually her freedom is getting weakened 
...she is now living a restricted area...cannot read at night...cannot 
enjoy a cup of coffee in a restaurant...cannot enjoy the tune of 
jazz...a prisoner in her own home... home...? Is this a home...? This 
is a remand home...he is dictating to her the rules and the principles 
and she is haranguing him on how to live a free life...how naively he 
is chained to the pole of principles...?  Like a galley slave, he kept 
rotating in a circular way within a limited range tied to the rope of 
dogmas and beliefs.... wonder of all wonders is how she got tied to 
him...when he had saved her life in that road accident, she was really 
touched by this gesture of his...he had given an example of 
manliness...how manly did he look then...?  He had then amply fitted 
into her conception of ideal...which was why she had readily agreed 
when papa had put forth the proposal...but is she really tied to him 
mentally...why at all has she begun to feel this distance...? If she 
were tied to him by way of love why was it that she found her days with 
him so very difficult to pass...when in fact she should have been 
waiting joyously....wait should have been an endearing experience...at 
times reading...at times putting her ears on the call bell...humming at 
times...at times making some notes...waiting joyfully in 
expectancy...that is called waiting...what’s the time now...how long 
now...? Her eyes would have remained fixed on the wall clock....in 
truth, she is not committed to this home...till date she has paid no 
attention to interior decoration of her home...she could have put some 
posters of her own liking on the wall...what possible objections could 
he have had...but she never did all this...apparently, she did not feel 
any attachment...perhaps because she did not feel integrated...her 
heart was never in it...its true he saved her that day from that 
accident and she developed a soft corner for him and got 
attached...this was her destiny....at that particular moment she saw a 
visage of her ideal in him...but could he be her ideal...! This robot 
in human flesh....? Conditioned by rules and traditions...how can a 
conservative like him be her ideal...?  She was ditched in a weak 
moment and now she is forced to compromise...this is a case of routine 
compromise of a married woman...she too has joined the club of the 
ordinary married women...and gradually she is losing her personal 
identity...this is the cause of her anxiety...this is the pain of 
compromise.... 

Was she really joining the club of the ordinary married women...no...she
will live her life...its important that she controls herself...she 
looked at the wall clock...it was eleven...why does not go out for a 
while...lying like this and thinking this way could well give her 
headache...but where could she go...? At least she could go to the 
library.... 

She suddenly got up, changed her dress and moved out of the flat.
Library was not far off. She quietly walked along. While walking past 
the crossing, she momentarily looked at the spot where she had nearly 
met that fatal accident...how she was pulled into his arms...that shirt 
of his soaked in sweat... 

Upon reaching the library she discovered that she had forgotten her
card...rather she remembered the card was at papa’s itself where she 
had put it in a book kept in an almirah. Even then she remained there, 
leafing through some of the magazines. 

When she emerged from the library, it was already past noon. When she
began to move towards the flat, she was a little dismayed at the 
prospects of cooking food for herself...she felt like going into a 
restaurant for lunch. But being alone, she did not relish the prospect. 
She dropped the idea and slowly progressed towards the flat. He 
returned from office in the evening. 

As usual, after dinner she took a book and took her position on the
bed...but when she suddenly realised that 10 o’clock was the time for 
sleeping, she was rattled...this is tyranny...I must find a way 
out...why not she lights up a table lamp...she could easily read in the 
limited and focussed light of the lamp...and he will not be 
disturbed... 

She got up...lit up the lamp on a tripod and drew it close to the bed.
Lowered the shade and turned it towards the door. The light got 
focussed to where her head was. She lied down on the bed, dragged the 
pillow towards the lamp and began to leaf through the pages of 
Tau-Te-King. 

When he entered the room, she felt he will raise objections. He lied
down on the bed by her side. She kept her eyes fixed on the book. In 
the meantime, she took a furtive look at him. He was cleaning up his 
nose with his ring finger. She found it abominable. He extracted some 
dirt from his nose, stuck on his finger like paste, he fiddled it for a 
while and then took his hand down to the bottom of the cot...he is 
wiping it on the plank below...she thought of it distastefully and 
turned away from him. He began to crack his fingers. Then he made some 
odious sound from his mouth and yawned abominably filling her with 
intense wrath...she felt the odious sound that he made got stuck in her 
throat...and this filled her with deep hatred...why does this man yawn 
in this abominable way...? She felt twisting of strings inside her. It 
amazed her no ends that she had seen him do this in the past also, but 
she never felt this kind of abomination...is it because her heart is no 
longer finding him acceptable... 

Suddenly, he switched off the light. She turned angrily towards him,
“Why...?” “You know it pretty well this is the time when I sleep...” 
She twitched her lips in intense anger. “Why don’t you read in the 
other room...?” 

“That’s what I am going to do now...” Her voice was vitriolic. “You know
I get disturbed...” “I know...I know....I know...” She cried 
hysterically and sprang out of the bed. Went to the other room and 
dumped herself on the cot, hid her face with both hands and began to 
sob bitterly. 

Next day was Saturday. 

Papa had got her sent all books, but could not come himself.  After he
left for his office, she busied herself in arranging her books on the 
shelf in the other room and spent the whole day making notes. It felt 
good to be thus engaged in her studies yet again. It was a half-day 
office. When he came from office, they had lunch together and did some 
formal talks of here and there. She was happy to see him thus talking 
and thought perhaps he was trying to make some amends...its good....she 
will try to maintain her taciturnity and will talk depending on 
expediency...only then could she continue with her studies...or else 
she will have to pass through the avoidable tension. 

After dinner, she went back to that very room. This had become her
virtual study room. She could not help realizing that it had at least 
rid her of the curse of sleeping at ten...he could comfortably sleep in 
that room and she could read here in this room...and it made her wonder 
as to was she hell bent on reading in the bed room itself...perhaps 
because this was an old habit with her, of reading on the bed...or 
perhaps because she wanted him to be the part of it all...so much so, 
she did not like to prepare tea only for herself...perhaps somewhere in 
her subconscious she regards him as her own part...but what about 
him...he regards her as a separate item...that is why he shoves her 
hand away...the way he sleeps on the bed, it showed as if she did not 
exist there....but how does it feel now...Here at this hour...how does 
it feel like to be seated here...! It seemed she is living in a 
hostel...! This is her room and that is warden’s room. She cannot not 
read there.... 

With his sudden appearance in the room, tooth-pricking and making that
odious sound, the chain of her thought got snapped. “Come on...let’s 
for a stroll...” 

She felt like telling him that she had no such desire, but she quietly
rose from the chair. 

They went down into the lawn. She remained quiet all through. He too
remained silent. They kept walking from one end of the compound to the 
other end. She felt she was walking with him in a mechanical way....was 
she also turning into a robot whose remote was in his hand....he 
switched it ‘stroll’ and she began to stroll.... 

But then, she became reassured when she realized that she was doing it
all deliberately and in fact this was her way of protesting against his 
obstinacy; and the best way of registering this protest was to remain 
quiet and engage only in formal talks whenever required and she must do 
as he bid her to do...like she came for this walk as quietly as 
possible...or may be she should try to gradually attract him towards 
her...but this will be futile...he cannot take any hue...he will just 
not accept anything that militated against his principles...it is 
futile to entertain any such thing from him....to exclaim to him...how 
romantic the weather....! And getting drenched in rain has its own 
joy...he just cannot take this...for him it will be waste of time...the 
best option is to stay quiet and stay indifferent to him....but will he 
not understand what is going on in her mind...! Will he not understand 
that the one who is walking speechless by his side is actually passing 
through some kind of a stress...after all how a chirping girl like her 
could suddenly go quiet...! No...he lacked even that elementary 
intelligence...his IQ is not that sharp to make him understand that 
this attitude of her was actually a protest...in fact, he may not be 
worrying about anything at all at this moment...all the worries 
belonged to her...and this made her angry on herself...why was she 
doing it all...why all this drama....! He is obstinate, he is 
unfeeling...he did not even care to ask as to what was the matter with 
her... why she was so quiet...! She is simply being pretentious...she 
should in fact...she should immediately go back to her room...she felt 
she was brimming with anger. And  then she finally put this poser to 
him, 

“But you don’t take to walking at this hour everyday...” “I don’t...”
“Then why today...?” “Its Saturday today...” 

She burst into laughter. She thought her taciturnity was giving way. “Is
this also a part of that principle...” “It helps digestion...” 

“What a dung-headed man this...” she thought with anger. She felt like
asking what kind of a ritual was it to take to walking after dinner on 
saturdays...she then remembered that they had returned from Kathmandu 
on a saturday and he had similarly insisted on undertaking a walk. Her 
anger began to boil from within. 

At long last she said sternly, “ I am tired now...” “Let’s go...” he
replied softly. 

They went up. She was actually tired and shoved herself on the bed
immediately upon reaching there. He too came in, switched off the light 
and lied down by her side. Zero watt bulb was on in the room. She was 
about to move out to the other room for reading when he turned and held 
her by her hand...but this robust touch at this moment did not go well 
with her and she could not help reflecting on how her advances were 
spurned the previous night when she was in need of it. She tried to 
push his hands away but he strengthened his grip and began to unbutton 
her gown...then once or twice when he kissed her on her nape, she felt 
it odd and felt it was a mechanical act...she did not feel any warmth 
in his kisses...then in the dim light of the room she took a close look 
at him...he had held her breast into his hands and was trying to cuddle 
them into various shapes...at times twitching his lips violently....at 
times encircling her breasts with his lips...occasionally opening his 
eyes...to her all these activities looked mechanical, bereft of 
feelings...there was that marked tension of having to do it....as if 
nature had not bestowed upon him this natural ability; as if he had 
acquired this knowledge from a book telling how to vigorously rub a 
woman’s breast to.... 

She was filled with intense hatred. He appeared to be in his usual
haste. He again made advances towards her, but she was still devoid of 
any feeling...she was not feeling any warmth at all...she did not even 
notice any upheaval in her breathings...she just remained lying in that 
state seeing him going through the motion of it all...she was seeing 
everything, feeling nothing....suddenly she was filled with deep 
annoyance...she felt it was not love making...it was her rape.... And 
then he had stopped, had ceased to act when she disengaged herself from 
him and lied flat on her back... 

As usual, he had turned his back to her and lied on while she kept
looking vacantly at the ceiling...all of a sudden she felt it was 
highly insulting to be lying like this...lying like that like a 
defeated person seemed to have become her destiny while he like a 
victor.... 

Despite her best efforts she could not control her tears...she covered
her face with her hands and sobbed bitterly. 

When tears abated, she went to the reading room and lied down there on
the cot...she shut her eyes in an attempt to sleep...and the scenes 
began to re-enact...she once again had that loathsome feeling...how 
horribly was he shaking his head and kissing her...how odious and 
despicable was his facial expression...it was certainly the meaningless 
tension on his face...he must have read it in books...this was the way 
to do foreplay...a woman will be excited...fool...every woman had a 
distinct point in her body...try to reach there...that will be 
consummation...the real fruition where both will share the joy in its 
entirety....but in this case she had received nothing....his act of 
fornication was mechanical...he was hurrying through it all...clawing 
into her...just as a dog would claw into mud...thud...thud...thud...as 
though opening the doors of an almirah...rummaging through 
clothes...slammed the door and turned to the other side.... 

She pulled a pillow and pressed it against her chest, changed her stance
and lied down....and then thought pensively, if only he understood that 
clinging to the bosom of a man was the ultimate desire of a woman...it 
was seeped into her culture...in the moments of sexual bliss a woman 
did not want to move away from the bosom of her loved one...the 
pleasure of it lingers for long...lasts till the very end...and even at 
that moment she keeps waxing and waning...he does not understand that 
it is a magical moment...total submission is the quintessence of 
it...the eyes of a woman remains closed even in the dark...and she is 
catapulted into a world where, cut off from the mundane, 

she becomes oblivious of the existence of her mate as well...this is the
feeling of being merged ...then there is no individual identity, not a 
segregated thing...a thing for being utilised...he does not know that 
waves emanate from the entire body of a woman...and waves are the part 
of the river...and when in the midst of a storm, she feels that she has 
originated from the waves...lost in the valley of body, but look at the 
way he turns his back to her...and then she on the floor....he uses 
her...like any other thing in the room...like his necktie...like his 
shoes...beating like a drum...dhum...dhum...dhum. 

Suddenly she felt intense hatred for herself...how abjectly she lay
supine during this entire period...she could have snubbed him as 
well...she could have extricated herself from his clutches and could 
have come away to this room...what, after all, was she trying to convey 
to him...why was she trying to register her protest against his 
insensitivity...that look, just because you do not care for my 
feelings, my sentiments...I have become frigid....did he have the 
ability to understand the nuances of sexual urgings of a woman that she 
was being pretentious about her protestations...she herself is 
mean...foolish woman pretending to be a psychologist....out to generate 
aesthetic sense in him...rallying him round to paint him in her own 
colour...she began to feel restlessness...she got up and went to the 
kitchen...gulped down a glass of water, went to the balcony and stood 
there. Threw a cursory glance all around her on to the road...most of 
the shops at the crossing had shut down...the road was deserted... 

Holding the grill at the balcony she tried to look as far down as was
possible with her vacant eyes...it is not possible to carry on with 
him....he has rules...principles...and she cannot live under the tight 
leash of rules and principles...she wished to live every moment her 
life in its originality while he tried to tie her down to a tether 
post. To live a life, she thought, it was not necessary to move on the 
crutches of religious beliefs or principles...beliefs mean 
restrictions...beliefs mean you are engulfed by fear...a fear that has 
no substance, no existence...a figment of man’s own imagination, a 
man-made fear... he needed the support of beliefs to shield against 
this fear of unknown...therefore he must accept certain principles...he 
goes for morning walk so that he may have good health...meaning 
thereby, there is a lurking fear in his mind that his health may....he 
does not therefore enjoy fresh morning breeze...but she would, if ever, 
like to walk in the morning just for the sake of enjoying the morning 
breeze...not because she wanted her health to remain intact...that will 
mean living in future...living in the shadow of fear...but this 
man...he is living under the impact of an illusion...look at the way he 
eats...he must chew each grain...he must have read it in the books on 
hygiene...if you chew your food properly, it will merge with your 
saliva...will help you in digestion... take water afterwards...a 
poisonous smile then emerged on her lips...how obnoxious sounds did he 
make while he grubbed those grains in this manner...and how about the 
look on his face then...! 

For a while it amazed her as to why did she begin to think of him in
this way...she did not think of him like this before...was it the 
growing distance between them that was moving her close to the 
periphery of hatred....? 

She once again felt the same restlessness...she went to the
kitchen....again gulped down a glass of water and hurled herself on the 
bed...she will not think anymore...anything at all... 

Changing her posture, she shut her eyes and tried to sleep...but again
the scene of how he ate began to float before her eyes and she was once 
again filled with that intense hatred as she decided that this 
particular habit of his can by no means be rated as civil...it was not 
the taste of the food that concerned him at all...if one were to ask 
him about the culinary aspects of a thing he was eating, he would 
remain speechless...but he could certainly list the benefits of eating 
...what contained this or that vitamin...and if you eat this it will 
help create blood in your veins and if you eat that, it will strengthen 
your bones. 

The fact of the matter is-he is living like a machine whereas she wants
to lead a natural life....when she was rapturously connected to the 
nature at Dhulikhel, squatted on the floor, how rudely he had ruptured 
the cord by shaking her up as though she were a chain ....sit in the 
chair...you should sit in chair...there too, he was trying to tie her 
down to tether post of his principles...how rudely he had snapped the 
cord she had assiduously weaved and connected to the nature...how the 
moment of wordlessness had degenerated into a world of deadly silence. 

The presence of this man in her life was gradually weaving a net of
eerie silence in her own life...perhaps, she too will get converted 
into a robot....the way she was walking today, she feared, could well 
be the beginning of her robotic life...so he has selected saturdays for 
leisurely walk after dinner...this is a blockheaded man...the food 
should get digested...but why only on Saturdays...? Was it because he 
wanted to ...? She sat up with a start on this realisation...it flashed 
through her mind that it was a saturday when they had returned from 
Kathmandu...and he had insisted on walk after dinner the way he had 
done tonight, and that night also .... 

So Saturday has been earmarked for her utilization...every Saturday
night, first go for a walk for proper digestion of food...will belly 
full you must not indulge in sex...it could cause indigestion....walk a 
little before that...and then go flat on the bed... 

She felt giddy...she clutched her head and sat down...then she felt a
little nauseant and slowly scampered into the bathroom, went to the 
basin, held the tap with her hands and began to vomit...after a bout or 
two of vomit, she heard the click of a switch. Perhaps, the sound 
created by her vomiting had awakened him.  He came to the bathroom. 
“What are you doing ...?” She did not speak. “Are you okay...?” 

She did not speak. “Why don’t you speak...?” In reply, she looked
angrily at him....clenched her lips under teeth and tried to contain 
her intense anger. “Say something...” “Please ...don’t disturb...” she 
said in a trembling voice. 

For sometime he kept looking at her in sheer amazement and then moved
away from there. 

The following morning when he went out, she packed her books in a
suit-case. Locked the flat, handed over the key to the neighbour and 
went over to the papa’s house. 

Papa was not home then. With tired legs, she walked up to her room,
flung herself on the bed and began to sob bitterly. 

After a while she heard the sound of the horn below. She quickly wiped
off her tears and sat up. 

Papa entered the room and smiled disarmingly, “when did you come...” 

She did not speak. 

Papa looked at her with some attention, and then said, “Good you came
here...” 

She still did not speak. 

Then papa tenderly patted her on her cheeks, “I was keen that you
complete your thesis from here.” 

Nonchalantly she looked out of the window. A lone bird was perched high 
up on a banyan tree....the construction work of electric crematorium 
was complete. The high walls of the crematorium had obfuscated from her 
view the vision of the river... 


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