Everybody Cheats-The End?

Yup!!You read it right folks, the title. Notice the Q mark at the end umm?? After those eleven chapters I am at a cross road here. This song came much later than Ms.Leo happened to Sid… “Tumko paya hai to jaise khoya hoon
Kehna chahoon bhi to tumse kya kahon”... It is true , it does seem I have lost or losing something yet sensing that I have received so much too, after I started pouring out all here.  Darn such confusions in my mind right now: (

 I have so many questions. Few answers. Lot unanswered. So many Ifs and Buts. I met many wonderful people on island after I started writing here. So many perspectives, so many views. So much confusion. So much appreciation. So many other things too. This woman a regular islander, she writes here so well, I call her with a special name. When asked, told her this is her special name I want to call her which no one else will ever call her. Yes, she is special and precious, anyway, once I did tell her, “I would have written all these if no one ever read them, I would have poured it all out here even there was not a single comment for me. Because I am doing this for me and myself, I needed to do this to me.”  I still stand by this philo of mine. Yet I did list out WHY I don’t want to write anymore and also WHY I want to continue this.

Why I don’t want to write anymore:-

1.     I might be getting bored. [Yes, I do get bored easy with everything in life!]

2.     I might be having an inkling that my even so careful fudging of identities will be read by Dev, Mukhi , Sheila, Shrink, our children and Ms.Leo some day here, may be munnibaai too [ Do they read rediff blogs?] and then toppling of apple cart or rocking of boats might happen.

3.     I might have ruffled some feathers of some fellow islanders here [men & women], though I give a damn for such issues, yet kept wondering why hurt people yaar?

4.     I might be neglecting my other responsibilities in my world right now and putting too much time/mind on this blog and related issues here.

5.      I hurt more, after I started writing this. Yes folks, strange, weird, and uncanny yet sadly true. I feel the slow oozing of blood from left side of my chest deep inside, Am hurting yaar :(

There were some more points, but they are irrelevant, inconsequential and unimportant at this juncture.

Why I want to continue writing more:-

1.     Restlessness breeds scribbling itch. Yes, I am very restless unless I write all these.

2.     Somehow I sense I shall be doing great injustice to myself unless I write it all.

3.     I always hated that logic-fanatics favorite line, “Half filled glass or half empty & half opened door or half closed”. I either prefer to gulp from the glass whatever in there or fill it to brim and have it. Prefer to kick the damn door shut or make it wide open.

4.     I am enjoying the comments, mails and knowing so many wonderful people from here through this. Shhhit... the egoist in me : (

5.     I am falling in love with ‘her’ all over again and trust me folks it is such a great feeling!

The list is longer but these five tops the chart as of now.

Oh, some of you must be wondering so, what happened when Dev left for Chennai next day?  It’s a long story but to cut it short, I can tell you that day specifically. We planned for a movie; it was a latest James Bond one, after noon show. At Vasant Vihar. We were supposed to meet at the theatre itself separately. I from office and Ms.Leo from her home after attending a parent meet at her kid’s school. I reached first, waiting next to my car a little away from the front of the theatre, having a smoke. She will come by cab. Suddenly, I see Mukhi arrived there with about ten of her kitty party friends getting off from three cars together at the theatre!!

Well that’s it folks. Ifs & Buts here... Don’t know yet which of the five points mentioned above will rule the roost. There may be a chapter-XII, or this may be “The End”.

Who knows?

Everybody Cheats-XI

‘Plumeria’, ‘Frangipani’, “plumeria Alba”. Thank you Mr. Larry Page & Mr. Sergei Brin for letting me find the names of this flower. The actual names in English of such common flowers are so difficult , specially for people who never studied botany. This is the first flower I presented to Ms.Leo. Huh.. Put it so simple way here ! It was not so simple really. I need to create a back ground-foreground thingy for this for my dear readers.

This flower ‘Frangipani’ is associated with me from my high school days. From grade-VIII or so the birdsNbees thingy started amongst us in school. We had a common phenomena between girls and boys those days. Girls & boys used to exchange books and notebooks between them in ways like, “ Hey Rahul may I borrow your Civics book please?”…. “ Priya, I need your chemistry notes , lend me for a day pls?”… We had same text books for everybody in class , we all had same notes yet that was the hint kind of thing to establish a contact. Here the lender used to put a flower inside the book or notebook. The flower used to become a nice papery strip inside the book, almost like a dried flower and it had long shelf life, like one can keep it stored for long time. When the book/notebook is returned and the owner finds the flower is not there he/she used to be ecstatic because it signified that the ‘proposal’ to become boyfriend/girlfriend has been accepted by the borrower ! If the flower was found still there then the girl was a bitch and boy was ‘what-a-nerd-am-never-interested-in-him’ kind of guy. This inside-book-flower in our school used to be mostly ‘Frangipani’, we called it champa then. It was convenient for availability as we had several of those trees lined around our school play ground. I got several of those chipkaoed-wala frangipani from girls and always ‘accepted’ them and I did put several flowers in many of my class mates books and some of them were returned too from girls without being accepted. Any way that is another story.

I have a Frangipani tree next to my garage now. If my car is parked overnight in front of my garage or even for few hours in after noon , next time I get in my car, its roof top is scattered with these flowers. I hardly noticed this. I am not a very conventional romantic kind of guy. Like I hardly gave flowers to my women or even to Mukhi. Once on our anniversary while returning from a dinner at India gate crossing those people who knock on your car window , holding gajra, flowers and car-mops to sell and very leech kind of sellers they are, I wanted to buy a white jasmine gajra for Mukhi till the signal was red. But Mukhi explained that these flowers are taken from crematoriums always and she will never put those in her hair. So that was end of my flowery-romanticism. I hate drama or melodrama in real life. I hate complications of any kind or never use any filmy-style dialoguebaazi even when am very emotional or angry in real life. Not that I don’t like such dialogues but for some reason I find myself laughing out at those and very hilarious under any circumstances in real life. So either I go mono-syllabic or maun-vrat in such situations. I preferred maun-vrat with Mukhi on that anniversary night in car after disappointing the flower-seller at India Gate.

After many years I looked at a ‘Frangipani’ flower intently on top of my car on this Sunday afternoon, when I was taking it out to attend the lunch at Dev’s house. I wanted a fresh one. I had to jump a bit to reach the nearest branch and pluck one flower. Watched it. Fresh. Medium size. Before Mukhi could come out of the house I put it in my jeans pocket. I know it will be crushed, it will be spoiled but I had no other way to carry it with me. The journey to Dev’s place was usual convo with my wife. …” You been skipping gym for last few weeks Da”… “ They always serves lot of sweets after meals… don’t please !”… “ Just one beer I tell you Da during lunch.. Ok?”…” Lets not hang around late after lunch, Seema will come at four”… etc. Against these lines mine were , “ Hmmm”… “ sure”… “ ok”… “ saala andha hai yeh taxiwala !”… and I drive on. My mind was on that Frangipani nestled inside my jeans pocket. Though is may sound a bit ‘just-not-me’ but it is true I did whisper to that flower, “ Hey am sorry pal for your claustrophobia , hang on there for a while will give you freedom soon”.

Ms.Leo was in a red track pants and a white shirt. First thing came to my mind while climbing their stairs and looking at her standing in that attire on top of the staircase was, “ 38C !”. Yes, that was gross, cheap, wrong thought, perverted, immoral, crude… but.. Dear readers would you have felt happier if I lied here?? faked myself ??and written , “ oh what an angelic divinity…. What a platonic poetic stance.. Red and white canvass of twilight zone of mother nature standing on the staircase !” etc etc ?? Wish I could write to make people happy but sigh !! I cant. I can only write my memories, which is so much easy as I never have to cook up anything or think much.

Some thing touching my toe ! I get stiff for a moment. Feet. Soft. Under the dining table. I don’t move my feet. It seemed whole world knows Ms.Leo is playing footsie with me under the dining table. Na, not playing or doing anything, just touching my toe with hers. Stationery position. Why I am not scared? Why I am not nervous? She is not even looking at me. So, casual, such ex-pressionless face. I keep eating. After few seconds I remove my feet. “She” looks up to me. “ Sid.. More rice?”.. I make eye contact, “ Yup, a little”.. holding my plate towards her. I don’t know what went through Archimedes’s mind when he screamed Eureka being in bathtub but I know I needed to scream “Eureka !” right now. Because after putting the plate in front of me with rice, fumbling with the fork on my plate, my left hand quietly yet casually retrieved the Crushed-Frangipani from my jeans left pocket. It was a tedious strenuous acrobatic exercise with limited time span and under such risky circumstances. Yet , I could manage it to pull up my knee and foot and holding the flower between my toes and placed the feet under the table again. All happened under the table and without any one’s slightest notice. Not even Ms.Leo. Now this time its going to be at high stake. I have to make contact with ‘Her” feet with my flower-holding toes. Mukhi’s feet will be inches away from hers under the table. Half inch this side that side, my wife will get the Frangipani. Slowly, with ex-pressionless face , I said, “ But Dev no dessert for me today, tom morning I may have a pp blood thing to be done”… I don’t even know what that got to do with my having dessert today lunch but all I knew then that I made the contact under his dining table with Ms.Leo’s feet and still holding the flower between my toes.

What if Ms.Leo thinks it’s a cockroach and jumps and all beans are spilled out in open now? What if she doesn’t understand what I am trying to do here? What if I got the wrong feet in the first place? With all such questions on my mind , eating Munnibaai’s palak intently I started releasing the flower from my toes dhire-dhire under the dining table. Has her toe grappled it? Or I have just let it slip on the floor? I cant make out. Suddenly I found I have finished eating and the Frangipani is no more with my feet and Ms. Leo is moving towards her kitchen to get some thing and talking to munnibaai. I cant even risk to look under the table if flower has been ‘accepted’ or I have dropped it on the floor. We finish eating rest of lunch uneventfully, though all the while only I know how I controlled myself NOT to look under the table to check my Frangipani’s destination.

Sweetened supari. Thanks yous;, great lunch, next Saturday dinner at our place, jaldi jaana hai etc etc. Dev and “she” came down up to my car to see us off. Another round of hugs and bye-byes and I start the car, Mukhi sitting next to me. I wave at them and then… only then I see my Frangipani peeking from Ms’Leo’s left breast pocket of white shirt !!

Everybody Cheats-X

So easy? How easy is it to start or have an extra-marital affair? Am I falling into an extra-marital affair? So far, this was in books, movies, friends, friends of a friend, distant relatives… but this is me.. My life. Here I am with wife of my best friend, on our way to tread the untread, to do some thing which is generally unapproved … yet….

These were on my thoughts when I was parking my car in Sheila’s apartment basement. I and ‘her’ never exchanged a word during this phase of journey. Why I am not nervous or uneasy? In fact at that point of time, it seemed like.. ‘Yeh toh honahee thha’, like this was just natural, routine, and nothing unusual. While parking the car I noticed Ms.Leo’s chappal was absolute mismatch with her rest of attire. It was maroon color women’s normal chappal, no heels, just flat. Again my mind started defending her… “She was in a hurry in the morning, how can she find the right shoe… how does it matter…. Etc”. I parked, got off the car went the other side and opened the door for her. I still do this for women, whoever. Many may think, I am a big show off or writing this to project how gentleman Knight I am, but I really hold car doors for women and still stand up when the woman approaches the table in a restaurant. Habit perhaps or may be I AM a show off. Who cares! While doing so I noticed that small scratch on front bumper I have not got it done yet in my car. This was a cycle bumped against my car about a month back. Nothing happened to the cycle or person; just my car bumper got a scratch.

Apartment security. Register signed. Keys taken. We are in elevator. I spoke, “we will have a shower together first”. She mumbled, “I need a shower cap”.

I said about the shower so matter of fact way, so casual. What if she would have kicked on my balls and screamed, “What the hell you think and mean Sid that we will have a shower together! “. But some how I knew she wont say/do any such things. I was already thinking, Sheila must be having towels etc in her bathroom.

Click. Sheila’s apartment door opens. We enter. Lights. Click. I turn around to see the click noise. Ms. Leo just locked the main door behind us.

Now… dear readers, you must be thinking.. This is it.. This is the moment….. What Sid & Ms.Leo going to do? Naah we dint jump at each other or anything like that.

I sat on the living room sofa and turned on the TV, as I missed the morning news this morning. She opened the windows of the living room, door of the balcony, opened the curtains and turned towards the bathroom inside bedroom, asking me, “Coffee?”. The way she asked me as if its her own home or she was here many times before and made coffee. We were here on many occasions for different parties but never just us. This was first time I and Ms.Leo are in Sheila’s apartment and no one else. I am sure she never made coffee here.

I only watch NDTV for news. Do they wear sari while reading the news? Why I always wondered what kind of shoes these news reader women wear when they are live on TV? They never show their feet. This Kashmir issue… I never been to Kashmir, guess next time I got to have a visa to visit there. Even one day’s rain flood Mumbai city. Sheila’s TV needs proper tuning.

…” Sid?”.. She called me from bathroom. I switched off the TV, walked towards the bathroom door. Yellow? I never had seen a yellow Bath towel before. Yes, that’s the first thing I noticed first when I stood at the bathroom door. Then her hair. The cascade on her bare back. She was facing away from the door. The yellow towel spread on the bathroom floor. Ms.Leo sitting on it, knees bent. Hairs open on her back. I was never a painter, never a poet. Her clothes all around the bathroom floor and sink top. No words, no further conversation. I neatly took off my clothes. Placed them on bed, nicely folded. I sat behind her on the towel on bathroom floor. There is a harpic plastic can under Sheila’s basin, I notice. We both heard each other’s sigh when I pulled her shoulders and made her back rest on my chest. My legs spread on both sides of her waist. My thighs touching her armpits. Our feet side by side. I inhale the fragrance of her hair. Can’t make out what fragrance. She leaned back on my chest. I am a fire fly. So is she. We are fire flies. We know we will die yet we always jump in the fire. The tug, the pull, so intense, so inevitable. No mercy, no respite. Yes, there are some people in this world, men and women who are fire flies. I am one, so is she. The tug of fire is just so irresistible for us, even if we die, we don’t care, we don’t think. We just jump in the fire. Sheila has this large mirror in bathroom. I watch us in front of us. We look at each other’s eyes in the mirror. We don’t smile, just looking at each other through the mirror. I love large aureoles. Dark purple is her color. We still are looking at each other through the mirror. Unspoken words. No, our unspoken words were not at each other. They were for us. We were talking to ourselves then. I could not decipher what she was talking to herself. But I was telling myself, “I am so happy, so happy now”. Why nothing else came to my mind? Why no guilt? Why no regrets? Why Mukhi’s face dint dawn in my mind now? Why not my children’s faces? Nothing. Just the dark purple twin patches. They are so divine. They are mine.

…” After marriage, I had this man for three months… in my life “, She said.

I whisper, rubbing my face in her hair, “So? You want to talk about him umm?”.

…” Naah.. I never met him really.. it was online.. Messenger, cam too”… she replied.

I could not suppress my laugh, pinching her ear lobes between my thumb and forefinger gently. Ahhhhhh, those online thingy. Happens to us all. Initial days of chat rooms. Then IM, messenger and then phone and cam. I kept laughing, shaking my head. I had my share of such experience too. On yahoo chat rooms. Virtual world. The typed words on the computer screen, like an interactive book. The words while reading them and writing them; typed words affect our mind and gradually percolate the effect in our body. But for me, after one/two sessions of sleazy-torrid phone or cam it always fizzled out and both the persons got bored and moved on. I had such experience with three women. But that was eons ago. They were really skin deep.

She reads my unspoken words and asked, ‘What…. You too hmm?”.

… “Yes, three of them, years ago, from yahoo chat rooms”..I said.

This time Ms.Leo laughed aloud and spanked on my thigh, “Hmm, so you don’t lie or fake anything to me, that’s ok.. But I call it unnecessary-honesty really Sid”.

… “But you told me first.. And.. “.. Am I still trying to defend her words in some way?.

..” Haan, I said but I dint tell in such gory ways like you! “.. She said. We were laughing together. It’s been so long… I have not laughed with a woman together. I pull her closer on my chest.

It’s very natural for us all not to recognize the ring tone of a different kind on our cell phones. So she did not recognize or hear that her phone was ringing, which she left on the centre table in Sheila’s living room. Her son keeps changing her ring tone and she gets mad about it. This Dev told me more than once. I heard it first. Her phone ringing.

.. “Its Dev”... She said without moving an inch from my chest. I released her from my chest, got up from the towel, walked to living room. I watched my self walking naked on the mirror…. Hmmm not bad, I commented to myself. I saw her phone screen, still ringing. How did she know its Dev.?

She answered the phone. I am standing next to her in bathroom, she still seating on the towel.

….” Kya?.... haan.. Am in bathroom.. Umm.. Ok..”. She rubbing her other hand over my thighs.

…” But dint they inform before.. Or next flight?”. I move closer myself to her face, standing still. I notice her wedding ring brushing over my naked thigh.

…..” He dropped me off…. Hmmmm.. Na... Some work or meeting he had”. I grab her head in my both hands, pulling it towards the inevitable.

….” I don’t know… there might be long queue in prepaid counter, see.. “. My fingers combing her hair. Her fingers writing alphabets on my thigh.

… “Array you call Sid.. Na ….. I don’t know.. Ask him… ok.. ok haan”. She disconnected the phone and started getting up from the towel.

…” Dev’s flight cancelled. He is on his way from airport, wants to invite you for lunch today”, she said while collecting her clothes from all over the bathroom. White bra she was wearing, I noticed for the first time.

.. “ I will drop you, chalo, lets move, no shower today “, I walked in the living room looking for my jeans and tee shirt…. Yes my new RED tee shirt. Long back I Read somewhere that colors do have some effect in people’s life. This Sunday I had a RED tee shirt and a YELLOW towel. What or how did it affect my life?

Everybody Cheats-IX

Before I start writing this part, I must need to clarify something on the title of my blog in this relationship category here. I been receiving lot of mails and messages from fellow islanders having an impression that it is MY, Siddharth’s belief & opinion that everybody cheats. Hell, no!!

I picked up this title for two reasons,

1. This was the first understandable without any medical jargon statement uttered by my shrink on the very first encounter with her, she did say, “Everybody cheats”.

2. These words instantly struck a raw chord inside me somewhere deep down making me think, “Everybody cheats eh? Am I everybody? Or nobody? Or somebody?”.

Trust me the title is never from any defense mechanism in me. It is not also as a “pass on the buck” thingy psyche for me. So, there!

Now even after these clarifications, if any reader still sense, I believe/think/opinion/ whatever-crap that, ‘everybody cheats’, then my answer to them shall be as under,

“Ok ok folks.. Am wrong!! Na, nobody ever cheats in this world. Its just I, Siddharth and Ms. Leo in this world ever cheated in the history of mankind on their spouses like two horrid, immoral, married, perverted beings. All men of the world are Pope’s brother and all women are Mother Teresa’s clone/ reincarnation. “.  …. Happy now folks??

Now back to where I left of part-7. So, Dev is going to be in Chennai for next one week. Hmmm. Why she had to let me know it? What I got to do with this info? I am into financial consultancy and Dev is in electrical goods business. Absolutely no relation in our professional part. But I knew! Of course I knew why she sent me that sms.

Sunday morning around 7 am Dev called me. Shiiit!!  I hate such calls on a Sunday morning!

Me:- kya hai.. re? [ I can never hide my pissed off mood over phone]

Dev:- Sorry yaar.. Sid my driver’s wife having delivery, mere ko airport drop kar dena..[no regrets in his voice.. lol… but we are such friends.. I don’t mind..]

Me:- when? [I am looking at my bed side alarm clock, which is meticulously timed by Mukhi always]

Dev:- My flight is at 10:30, got check in luggage and…[ His voice trailed as I could hear “her’ voice at the back ground screaming some thing to her children]

Me:- Shiittt yaar.. I got to start right away …[My voice mellowed down for some reason ! I am already thinking should I shave or go without a shave]

Dev:- haan yaar… aajaa pls.. am almost ready.. [‘She” was saying some thing to Dev, I could hear ‘her’! Why Ms. Leo’s voice is husky even when she speaks normally at home]

Me:- Hmm.. K.

Click-Click. Phones disconnected. I got out of bed. I could never grow a habit of scratching balls while I get up from sleep and bed. Because one woman once told me, she has never seen a man who does not scratch his balls when he gets out of sleep and bed. My cell phone light blinking. It was on silent mode. Sms from Amit Chowdhury. From ‘her’! So fast?

…” wear red”.. Just that. Jeez! She knows I am coming to pick up Dev to their house now and I don’t have any red tee shirt! I hate to wear formals on Sundays. Its always jeans and tee. Now why the hell ‘she’ wants me to wear red? Not that I hate red but damn it, I don’t have a red tee shirt! But then how Ms. Leo will know that, it’s not her fault as such. Jeez, I am already defending her, even its ‘her’ who is deciding here what I will wear on a Sunday morning. Hell... This is just not me!

Black tee, Jeans. Shaved and showered too. Did I take more than usual in front of mirror? I did. Extra splash of after shave too. Geoffrey Beene, Musk. Phew.. Dev only brought it for me from Singapore duty free about a year ago.

My Verna took the turn in Dev’s lane. I paused the car. Stopped. Took U-turn. Five minuets drive, Pantaloon store. They are just opening the shutters. I almost gate crashed parking my car right in front of the store. I will be lucky they won’t tow it away at this early hour.  Found it! Red tee shirt. Trial room. Perfect. Rs.675/= . I put my black tee in their packet. Yes, I did remember to take off the price tag. Their billing counters not yet open. I just dumped Rs.700/= on the chap and rushed out before he could say anything.

The moment I took the turn in Dev’s lane I could see ‘her’. Waiting in front of their apartment gate. Moss green chiffon sari. Two suitcases next to her. I dint even notice Dev standing next to her initially.

Dev:- Chal chal… we got to hurry yaar !

‘She’ has no make-up. Morning fresh.

I open the boot, Dev puts in his bags. I and Dev in front. Me driving. Ms. Leo from back seat, “ I wanted to call a cab… “. She leans forward holding the back of front seat, her fingers touched my back. I leaned back. Her finger nails between my back and driver’s seat.

Dev:- Abbey jaldi kar… this contract is a biggi …

Me:- Devoo.. You should have checked delivery date of your driver’s wife and then book your ticket. We all laughed aloud. “Her’ fingers move down more between the seat and my back. She never removed her hand from there the entire journey to the airport. Why I dint even try to make eye contact with ‘her’ thru the mirror in front?

Beep! Sms I can see on my cell placed on my dashboard! Amit Chowdhury! Jeez.. .. How daring she is?? Dev is right beside me, talking to me!! I took the cell in my left hand casually, driving, checked the sms… “Red suits you “ . I casually deleted the sms and put back the phone on the dash board again.

No visitors allowed at airport ten days before Independence Day.

Dev:- Sorry to spoil your Sunday Da… N thanks a ton, let me run and haan suun... Don’t leave Ms. Leo at home unless she offers you break fast!

Dev pushes his trolley and disappears at the gate. “She” came in front seat.

I drive on, trying to jiggle my way out of the airport rush.

Ms.Leo:- At home, I can offer you cornflakes/milk or toast omelets only. Giggles.

Me:- Naah, its ok, I have some work... .. Not much time.. [‘She’ drawing lines on her sari clad knee with her finger tips, I can see. Same fingers which was on my back way to airport with Dev]

Ms.Leo:-.. Ummmm are you sure?

Me:- well... Let’s have some thing at Radisson coffee shop, they used a have a great buffet here…. {I turned my car at Radisson portico, noticing how she deprived me of removing her loose strand of hair from her forehead to back of her ears)

Ms.Leo:- Sid, which store was open so early on Sunday morning?

Me:- [This one took me by surprise really, knowing and realizing fully well what she meant. She knew! Darn she knew I don’t have a red tee shirt and this one I got it on the way.. Darn that was smart! I dint even try to lie…] ..Pantaloon was just opening on my way..Err…your sms…

Ms.Leo:-“ I never found Dev so romantic and to go that extra mile for me Sid….hmmm.”

Me:- “ I dint know red suits me…. Your sms.. “. I mumbled.

..” Satan, really, is the romantic youth of Jesus re-appearing for a moment.”.. That was James Joyce. Now, while parking my Verna at Radisson parking lot, I kept wondering am I a romantic? What’s so romantic she found in me buying a red tee shirt on the way? Then why Mukhi termed me more than once that I am the most unromantic guy she ever met? Was I romantic at that moment of decision while bought that red tee shirt just to impress her/please Ms.Leo? Was this some kind of test I gone thru for her unknowingly to prove my inclination for Ms.Leo? Sukkks…. So many questions flooding my mind at that point… I felt sort of vulnerable in front of her then.

The buffet break fast at Radisson turned out to be settling for croissant and coffee for us.

After first sip to my black coffee watching her bite the croissant I said, “We will go to Sheila’s apartment from here”. It was with such finality, I said that.

‘She’ replied, wiping her fingers on the napkin, “Today is Sunday, my son has swimming lesson at 4. Drop me home at 3:30 pm”

I checked time; it was just 9:04 am. I said, “Fine, we have time enough”.

Did I see a faint smile on her lips? I did not smile at all then, am sure. But could sure could hear drum beats inside me…… my heart? Nerves strumming?

Ms. Leo: - “Dev gone for a week”. Was that she was reassuring me that we can “have” what we want to have from each other for all week? Was she just informing me? Was she said that in a matter of fact way? Why she will say it, I already knew it, she sent me sms before about one week tour of her husband, then?

 For the first time in my life I realized I never had so many questions in my mind in one go for just one sentence or word from any one before !

Me:- Let’s go, Sheila leaves her key with their security and they know me.”

Dev missed the flight that day & he called ‘her’ after an hour we reached Sheila’s apartment.

Ok folks; keep biting your nails till my next blog : -)

Everybody Cheats-VIII

…Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses, you build up a whole suit of armor, so that nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life...You give them a piece of you. They didn't ask for it. They did something dumb one day, like kiss you or smile at you, and then your life isn't your own anymore. Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so simple a phrase like 'maybe we should be just friends' turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It's a soul-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain. I hate love….

No, don’t start wah-wah. I could never write such words on my own. It was some jottings I took from my old diary; it must be from some book. Don’t remember after so many years now. Bottom-line is those words are not mine but I could relate to them definitely at some points/years of my life.

After my part-VII, I was on home page. That was twice in one and half months. So many mails, messages and even one phone call. Some I did try to inform that rediff must be having some computer generated random blog-picks to feature on home page and I just got lucky, I never written anything in my life. Not even in school or college magazines or as a high school kid after his first date attempting rosy billet-doux to the pony-tailed girl! And the reactions I got from them.. “Come on Sid.. Modesty has its limit!”.. or.. “Abbey kyun bhau kha raha hai?”..or.. “ ok ok pal, so you appointed Salman Rushdie or cloned a MillsNBoon and they wrote it for you”…. Even one said, “Sometimes I think you are a woman writing all these!”.

Sigh!! Honesty still doesn’t pay these days. It never did.

However now back to the “ashtray”.

So I came down to Dev’s apartment living room from their terrace and Ms.Leo followed me to help me find the ashtray in her house. We entered the kitchen. Rather she entered the kitchen and I kind of followed her inside. The power went off!

Now I just hinted one of fellow islanders “what happened next” after she read my last blog. Her immediate reaction was.. “How convenient!”. I dint tell her anything after that. She will wait till I post it here.

Honestly it was not so ‘convenient’ then. My open toed keetoes was stepped upon by her almost pin-pointed stiletto!!

Me:- Shiiiiiiit !!

I tried to bend forward to touch my toes.

Her:- uhh ..Sorry!

She tried to move away, I guess, but could not see anything as it was almost pitch dark.[ even street lights were off and since it was on 5^th floor, no car lights either]

Me:- Naah.. Its ok.. Just…

I am still trying to bend forward my hands towards my toes. All my fingers could find the hem or end of her sari touching her feet.

She:- ummm… Sid…

I in one jhatka tried to remove my hand, giving up hope to find my smashed toes and started standing up again.

Me:- ohhh am sowyeee….

Its still dark. The apartment generator when it starts just before one minute it gives a vibrating noise meaning within one minute lights will be on. I did not hear the generator vibration yet. At least I had one minute in dark still… yes, that was the thought of the moment for me.

She:- ..Mmm.. Lights will come.. I hurt your feet.. err….

Why she was almost whispering those words? While getting up in hurry my hands coming up ‘with’ her sari and petticoat. Now don’t get ideas here folks! In sheer honesty even today I vouch it was UNINTENTIONAL!

She:- ..Mmmm.. Sid.. You..

My fingers playing piano over her naked knee. Silky smooth. I never touched any woman’s knee in dark like this before in my life. May be it was a Pico-second or less. But I did not remove my hand from her knee. She dint move.

Me:- ahhh.. I am….

I remove my hand. Step back, bumping my ass against the kitchen sink and stand up.

The Generator was on.  As if we both said together, “let there be light” and there came light. We looked at each other. Eyes. Deep. No words. We came out of kitchen.

Me:- I am sorry, it was so dark….

She:- You need dettol .. See… I hardly wear this shoe..

Me:- Na, its ok…. Am fine

Not one but three ashtrays I could see in one glance around her living room in different locations. I picked up the nearest one and walked up the terrace again.

Ms.Leo came back to terrace after a while, with ice or some food, I don’t remember. People around… laughing, joking, kids running around, taking photographs, men drinking huddled in one corner, women around a table sitting together giggling, talking. I joined the men’s group. She got busy around the table arranging food etc.

Rest of the evening was routine, normal as it should have been.

Around midnight it’s all happy birthday to Dev’s son, who was fast asleep by the time in their bedroom. Bye byes…Pineapple chutney was great…Vikash you had at least six pegs….Sharmila are you working tomorrow….RK hey I can drop you…..Nahi yaar have a meeting tom…good nights..etc etc.

I was the quieter one. All I could think then, I wanted to remove that loose strand of hair from her forehead behind her ear. Chandramukhi (my wife!) informed me in car one of the woman wore the same sari she had when they came to our house about a month back.. Also, I was told the panir was not cooked by Dev’s wife it was from a restaurant. I kept on driving.

Next morning the moment I entered my office I had a sms.

.. “Your fingers were cold”..

It was ‘her’. I replied back, “generator of your apartment need servicing”.

‘Her’ next sms was a clincher… “Dev going to Chennai for a week”.

I started my day at office.

Everybody Cheats-VII

..’ Jalne main kya mazah hai…’ this line of hers still haunts me. To get burnt in her philo was supposed to be divine, kind of bliss. I will come to that later.

I have been receiving number of mails, calls, messages from readers of iland that sometimes they do not relate who is who[ I understand this, for obvious reasons, I can not give proper ID/names of people here, as I respect each of theirs’ privacy & world] and while I summarized all inquisitiveness/inquiries/curiosities/questions… the gist is.. “How did it all start?”…and, “Who is who?” So, folks, here is my attempt to simplify most of the equations so far, hoping this will help readers to sense my blog in better perspectiveJ

I am trying to portray as much realistic as possible about these people, excepting names and few other tit bits which might, just might give away their real identity, just in case someone  from my/their real world go through this blog. Not that it will be anything harmful or hurting, yet why even take the chance in rocking any boat or topple any apple cart. End of the day, I DO care for them all and always will.

1. Me/I- A late forties man, married nearly two decades and half, professionally well established in some consultancy, financially comfortable, having grown up children who have gone beyond college but not into profession yet. Last leg of their education. Siddharth is my name, most friends call me Da. Just a normal middle class guy. Ordinary, yes funny thing about Da is everything is just ordinary. NO waves or turmoil ever happened, remarkable enough to mention in his personal or social life. No major ailments physically [I have reading glasses, need them to take off while watching TV and suffered from toothache sometimes]. School, college, MBA.. just above average, no hi-funda stuff. I drive a Verna now. Courtship few years, married to next door girl.Neighbours/relations termed it as love marriage. Couple of job changes and in just normal ordinary routine climbed the corporate ladder with time and years. 5-10, dark brown eyes, saltNpepper hair, does 5 days a week gym [no weights, just cardio], hates milk, terrible bathroom habits, and hopeless with dates and numbers, Black is fav color, a little extravagant with money.

2. My wife- Don’t know why/how/who once called her ‘chandramukhi’, probably that was the character she played in a college play once and I thought it would be apt to call her henceforth chandramukhi or just mukhi. Yes, Mukhi my wife and her life is just mirror image in female version, i.e. everything just normal, just ordinary. She is a teacher and a health freak, rather a gym-cum-parlor-freak. I call her miser and kanjoos; she loves to call herself ‘wiser’. Mukhi’s academic results were much better than me all through. She loves me. She is 5-3, long black hair [L’Oreal dye she uses], usually salwar kurta, jeans while traveling and vacation. We are of same age, am just one & half months older than her. Mukhi’s BP at borderline on higher side, hereditary arthritis. Mukhi is meticulously organized around households at a very irritating level [ e.g. living room wall clock & bedside alarm clock must not have even a seconds difference, she makes sure the pen on the telephone stool actually has a refill to write always, the imported treadmill she purchased 2^nd hand must never be used as a towel-rack by me etc etc]. She is a shade darker than me and in conventional Indian way she is a very sharp featured good looking woman. I happened in her life when she was in 1^st year college and her first short fling/affair/crush [her friend’s elder brother] got married. Mukhi hates smokers’ of this world, including myself, even when I gave up smoking at home. Occasional/social drinking, she is game. She writes post-dated cheques of all insurance premiums for the year on 1^st January, every year and keeps them in separate envelopes, writing the dates on them to be deposited.

3. Somdev/Dev- same school [think dev joined me when we were in grade V]. Same college. Neighbors. They moved to another house later.Dev’s mother used to send us cooked food, special items, calculating our lunch or dinner time. She was a horrible cook. Her Rajma masala, I remember used to be cooked in sugar syrup. Dev used to come first in all subjects all thru the school. Got 1^st class in graduation. Almost got selected in state Ranji cricket team. Don’t remember the brand but he did modeling for a shaving blade and bank advertisement on TV during the black & white TV era. He earned Rs.750/= from modeling and we all made him spend it in movies & restaurants. I was Dev’s hero. Sounds funny eh? But true. For some reason [which I cdnt figure even today] he always looked upto me as his Hero. Tried to impersonate/imitate me in more ways than one. I can confess I did take many advantages out of his weird psyche for me. At later stage, I wanted to think, may be he had some deep rooted inferiority complex or something as weird as that. I am not sure. Dev got married after six months I did. Arranged one. Girl of very rich parents. Their kundali/horoscope was perfect, madeForEachOther kind, his father used to boast to all. Dev lacks ambition in his business. He started small and remained small and so very happy, satisfied and content with his small business in electrical goods. In Indian context, financially comfortable.Maruti Zen, red, he has. A white ambassador was their family car. Dev is nonsmoker, teetotaler and keeps planning to become a vegetarian soon. Lights three incense sticks in puja room after bath every morning and always attempts to give me a meek lecture to have a puja room at my home. He hates to read books. Love movies on DVD, not at theatres. He is father of two children, almost same age as my kids, few months this side that side. I have been trying for decades now to teach him how to wear a tie and its knots. Failed always.

4.’Her’/Dev’s wife/Ms.Leo- I have so many names for her. Nice names and not-so-nice names. But I can’t tell them here. Bejan Daruwala & Linda Goodman stuff were Bible for her. NO amount of our jokes, teasing and ridicule could ever dither her from her belief. So, Ms. Leo is apt for her here. Plumpish is what she could be termed. Fair. No, very fair. 5-7? Give one or half  inches this side that side. She looked a big woman, in overall size. Eyes speak. Long hair. Incredible mouth. The first sign of commonality with her I found was, ‘books’. She loved books. So did I. When Dev got married, I could never put her at any level of bhabi or sister or even as a friend’s wife. From day one she was a ‘woman’ to me in my mind frame and in interaction. It was acceptable by circumstances. By us also. Ms.Leo had a snobbish trait in her. Expected, rich parentage may be. I was mad at her next morning of Dev’s marriage when she spilled coffee on my favorite T-shirt. I never did wear that t-shirt but still have it. Wrote the date on it with a ball point pen. Never gave it to laundry. Mark stayed. Ms.Leo is three years younger to me. About six months later or so came to know she attempts to write poetry sometimes. Very immature attempts. For herself. She was the only one in Dev’s household who could remember, I take my coffee black, no sugar. Ms. Leo has a cut mark on left inner upper thigh. Had six stitches after an accident when she was seven years old, learning cycling. Marks stayed.

5. Doc/shrink/shark- Lady Psychiatrist. Her husband is a doc too. About my age. Sexy. Looks ugly when she laughs aloud. Uses a wrong chair in her chamber. I am so sure that her male patients fantasize her in absentia.Did I? Won’t tell you.

6. Sheila- To most men she is the dream girl. Very good looking. Topped in academics. Freedom is her middle name. Earns much more than average Indian male service holders at her age. Single child. No immediate relatives. Own apartment, full paid. Drives own car. Spends almost half the year outside India. Divorced twice. She always has men in her life. One of those rare friends who can live for you, die for you and believes, ‘to hell with judgment’. I and Dev were Sheila’s first husband’s class mates and knew her even before he married him. We remained friends after their divorce also. She works in some higher echelon in an International Agency and makes more than I & Dev put together per month. Once I witnessed sunrise from the balcony of her apartment. Most of the time I find her fridge is empty.

Now, ‘How it all started’…. It was Dev’s son’s birthday. Dinner/party was on their terrace. About 25/30 people, family, friends. ‘She’ came down to their apartment living room from terrace with me while I was looking for an ashtray……..

Well, folks wait for few more days. Will tell you all about the ashtray in next blogJ

Everybody Cheats-VI

The call came when I was collecting her clothes from Sheila’s living room. My shrink.. Blah blah, how can I miss a fixed appointment, it’s so difficult to fit me this week. I was not listening; nothing was being registered from cell phone to my brain cells. Next day 11 am sharp she gave me time.

Doc- Actually I scheduled some psychometric tests for you.. but since you missed it , Arvind wont come today and..

Me- …. ‘she’ was in kitchen when I entered the apartment. Her clothes were still lying around all over. She was making coffee for herself. Just one cup. She was so sure that I wont come back?..... err, no am sorry doc, had this urgent meeting at office.

Doc- [ she checking the file] ok,  see though you keep denying there is no guilt factor  with you, but I do sniff some, but the point is..

Me- …..’she’ looks at me from the kitchen. Her hair loose on her back. I love her this pose with leg bent at knee and she standing. ….. Well doc, I never said I don’t have any guilt, I said I really don’t know.

Doc- No, the point I was making is what you have here, well…The various psychoses involve deficits in the autonomous ego functions and…

Me- ….’She has nothing in fridge’, she said softly. Does that mean we are planning to skip dinner tonight? Order pizza? We go out to a restaurant? How she is so sure I came back to spend the night with her here?..... Ummm, doc does that mean I am an egoist?

Doc- [ arghh, that ugly laugh again !someday I must tell her, otherwise she is beautiful but when she laughs like that… will tell her on my last session  at the time of final bye bye] Oh you have any doubt ? You are ! A very strong ego is deep within you and in this scenario…

Me-….I found her face rubbing against my back, while I was trying to put on the tv with remote. “ call home, inform them”, she purred. “ I called, we are staying here tonight”, I said that as if we do this every now and then. “ and  Tomorrow “, was she asking me or telling me. “ No I cant, I have to be back … work”. I almost blurted out with a panic button. Why and what for I was panicked? Isnt it supposed to be what I want to do?..... well doc, am not sure about my ego, but yes I am sort of stubborn at times , I feel….

Doc- Panic, phobias, conversions, obsessions, compulsions and depressions, we call these "neurotic symptoms", are not usually caused by deficits in functions. Instead, they are caused by intrapsychic conflicts. The conflicts are generally among sexual and hostile-aggressive wishes, guilt and shame, and reality factors. Now… in your case…

Me- …I never seen outside world at 1:30 am from Shelia’s balcony. ‘she’ was sitting on a stool in the balcony. I handed over my cigarette. Took it back after her one small puff. I notice prespiration droplets on her upper lip. How I love this ‘post-bliss’ smoke….. well doc, hang on hang on please…what do you mean by reality factors? You think all I told you are figment of my imagination or fantasy? Jeez doc..

Doc- [ Damn how I hate her laugh !] Naah, Dint mean that. You do have some unconscious conflicts in you really, which might be creating all these  anxiety, depressive affect, and anger.

Me-…. ‘Her’ cell phone ringing. Its on the bedside table. “ Its Dev”.. she was so sure with her her voice. “ At this hour?” I was not at all panicked, just curious. We walked back together in bedroom. ……. Yes, doc I do get angry, depression am not so sure and anxiety ..well.. just normal work related stress, deadline ,like normal I think.

Doc- …"Isolation of affect" is the term used for the mechanism that shuts sensations out of consciousness. Essentially shut-off brain mechanisms that make you unaware of that element of conflict. "Repression" is the term given to the mechanism that shuts thoughts out of consciousness. I will give you an example….

Me-… “ yes… umm.. hmmm.. giggles… yes , we are here, don’t know yet about tomorrow. No.. oh.. had pizza ! don’t worry.. bye”. She disconnected the phone. It was Sheila from Singapore. “ she knew we would be staying at her place tonight”, I just said it aloud to myself. “ I called her before you came, thought we must tell her, its her apartment after all”, she defended her call to Sheila. Why her nicety and innocence pisses me off at times?......... errr, well doc these are all Greek to me. What I was saying…

Doc-No, you see, In patients your autonomous ego functions are more intact, but you still show problems with object relations, your diagnosis often falls into the category known as "borderline." Borderline patients also show deficits, often in controlling impulses, affects, or fantasies – but their ability to test reality remains more or less intact. So…

Me- … “ I am sleepy”, I take right side of the bed. I always take the right side of the bed, even at home. Just two pillows. I will use mine between my legs. Cant sleep without a pillow between my legs. ‘She’ went to bathroom without a word. ……. Well doc, Guess its enough for the day, errr can we have this in next session please?

Doc- umm.. hmmm, fine. [Checks her file] Thursday three pm?