Married Woman (29 page)

‘Good enough, I suppose.’

‘Don’t you know?’

‘Well he was my first, and only.’

‘You’re joking.’

‘Not really.’

‘What about the other two?’

‘They were crushes. One I kissed a lot, with the other there were only letters.’

‘Have you ever wanted more lovers?’

What could Astha say? She was living, the way people like her lived, where was the question of more lovers, or love for that matter?

Pipee stretched out her palm for Astha’s hand. Gently she held it, fingering her thumb nail. Round and round the stubby nail Pipee’s finger went, lightly tracing the pink part, the white part, the skin part. Astha looked at their two hands together, and inched a little closer to the woman on her bed.

Pipee took a firmer grip of the hand in hers, and turned it over, stroking the back of it, gently sliding her rings off, and putting them on her own fingers, manoeuvring her bangles off and slipping them on to her own more narrow wrist.

‘I look so bare without them,’ murmured Astha.

‘All the better,’ murmured Pipee even more softly. Her breath quickened, and she pressed the tips of Astha’s fingers into her mouth, sucking each one gently before letting them go. Astha hardly dared breathe.

‘What would your precious spouse say, if he saw us together now?’ asked Pipee.

Astha swallowed and did not reply.

‘Did you say he was a faithful husband?’

‘I didn’t say anything.’

‘Is he good in bed?’

‘I suppose.’

‘If you have to suppose, he is not,’ said Pipee severely.

Astha decided she knew nothing about love making, that she was inexperienced and stupid. ‘What about you?’ she responded in a low tone, ‘You yourself have only had two lovers.’

‘Yes, that’s true,’ sighed Pipee. ‘But I’m looking for a third.’

‘Why so silent?’ asked Hemant that evening.

‘Silent? Am I?’

‘You need me to tell you that?’

‘Sorry. I hadn’t realised.’

More silence. What should she talk about? What had she talked about before silence came upon her? Their days, his day certainly. Now she made enquiries.

‘I have managed to bribe our union leader this time, but bribing is difficult, the workers are watchful and suspicious, I won’t be able to do it again.’

Astha hated it when Hemant talked about bribing, and yet the way he described it, it seemed necessary.

‘Pipee came over today,’ she said, changing the subject.

‘That woman,’ said Hemant.

Astha’s heart sank. Things would be difficult if Hemant became violent about his dislike. She tried to change the topic again, but Hemant was having none of it. ‘What did you say she did?’ he continued.

‘She works with basti children,’ said Astha proudly. ‘She helps them get through school, she gives them a sense of self-confidence, and strength.’

‘Who finances this?’

‘She’s part of an NGO called Ujjala.’

Hemant grunted, ‘One of those types.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘Take money from here and there, and pretend they are working.’

It seemed there was nothing Astha could say, and yet he wanted her to talk. She started on the children. That was always safe. It was what they were united upon, and it served its purpose now.

That night, Hemant started his sex routine.

‘No,’ said Astha, ‘I don’t feel like it.’

Hemant paused. This was the first time his wife had not felt like it. ‘What’s up?’ he demanded.

‘Nothing.’

‘Then?’

‘Then what? Do I have to give it just because you are my husband? Unless I feel close to you I can’t – I’m not a sex object, you have others for that.’

Hemant relaxed. That old thing. He took her face in his hands. ‘Sweetheart, why do you upset yourself over nothing? You are my wife, I love you, there has never been another woman for me, never. On business trips people don’t understand commitments to wife and family, they assume their clients want a good time. If I had had sex, would the condom not have been used? You only tell me,’ he whispered, his hands falling to her breasts and circling them in the way that was so familiar, kneading them, pressing them, as he continued, ‘you only tell me,’ then pulling up her nightie, and fondling her, ‘does what you imagine have any logic?’

Without her willing it her body responded. Hemant became even more ardent. ‘Baby, you are the only one for me, what’s the matter, are you jealous?’

‘No,’ she said, trying to push him away, but it was of no use.

After the marital function had been performed, Astha got up to wash herself. Looking up from her wet and soapy
hands, she caught sight of a sad and haggard face. How old she looked, and yet she wasn’t old. She was thirty-six, but all the life seemed gone. She leaned over the sink, and examined her face more carefully, certain to increase her wretchedness. Around her eyes tiny wrinkles were beginning to form. She stretched her mouth in imitation laughter, and they became more pronounced. She stared at her nose and saw the blackheads there. Her skin looked yellow and sallow, when she put her head up to look at the folds in her neck more clearly, she could see the white line at the base of her scalp, where the new hair had come, and the dyed parts grown out.

Why should anyone love her, she thought hopelessly. She was so ugly. She thought of Pipee sucking her fingers. She looked at them, and put them experimentally in her mouth. They didn’t taste very nice – of soap and sex. What had Pipee thought of them? And what would Pipee’s own fingers taste like? What had Pipee seen when she had pushed her face towards the mirror? Certainly not what she saw now. Slowly she went back to bed.

Her meetings with Pipee increased. When she was alone in the home in the mornings Pipee dropped by on her way to work, she phoned her at least five times a day, short brief conversations, but which drew each of them firmly into the nitty gritty of the other’s life. And the days when she didn’t see or talk to her were days with something missing, and not even extra hours at the canvas could fill the vacuum Astha felt. She started to fantasise about touching her, imagined her hair between her fingers, her skin beneath her own, her hands on the back of her neck.

Astha frantically trying to reach an appointed meeting place.

‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.’

‘I was about to go.’

‘I’m sorry. I couldn’t help it.’

‘What happened?’

‘I forgot it was a bandh. Not a single scooter wallah agreed to come. Not one. They said they would be beaten up. I even offered fifty bucks.’

‘Then?’

‘In the end he took eighty.’

‘Eighty! Three times! You shouldn’t have paid it, Ant.’

‘I had no choice. I would have given him anything.’

‘He was taking advantage of the situation,’ said Pipee sternly.

‘What could I do? You were waiting, I kept thinking of that, but I was on the road, and there was no way to tell you.’

‘Oh sweetie, it’s all right. Now, forget about it. I thought you must be having a problem. I can’t imagine where I’d be without my scooter.’

‘I don’t see why you haven’t bought a car,’ said Pipee later, as she was stirring her cold coffee. The meal had ended, and Astha was worrying about how she was to get home. ‘One needs to be mobile. I learned how to drive a scooter, it was all I could afford, but with you it’s different.’

‘We have a car.’

‘Hemant’s.’

‘Which I use.’

‘Only when he doesn’t.’

‘He sends it back from the factory with the driver whenever I need it.’

‘I’m sure he does, but you can be more independent with your own.’

‘A car costs over a lakh.’

‘You could hold an exhibition, and earn.’

‘Not lakhs.’

‘Ant, why are you being like this? Didn’t you tell me your mother left you some money?’

‘With Hemant.’ And the old hurt comes to choke her.

‘Hemant is not a monster. Have you tried asking him? Since ask you must.’

‘He’ll say whenever I want the car, I have it. Also I can ask my in-laws for theirs.’

‘If Hemant can keep a car for his parents, he can keep one for you.’

‘Well, I, the children that is, use it as well. For tuitions, classes, and stuff.’

‘The point is‚’ went on Pipee patiently, ‘if you had a car you would not have to do all this asking business.’

‘I can’t ask for a car for myself.’

‘Why not?’

‘Hemant says there is going to be trouble in the factory.’

‘How long has this factory been running?’

‘Ten years.’

‘I imagine he has made enough money to buy you a car.’

‘He is very generous to me.’

‘Good. Now come let me drop you home otherwise you’ll be cheated all over again.’

As they roared through the streets of Delhi, Astha leaned against Pipee, with her arms around her waist. Once or twice Pipee turned to ask, are you all right, Astha merely nodded, too happy to speak, even had the sound of the vehicle allowed it.

‘But why? The car is there for you whenever you want it.’

‘Please, Hemant. I am thirty-six. I need to be independent. I am always adjusting to everybody else’s needs.’

‘And the money?’

‘We could use what my mother gave.’

‘You know I have invested that for the children, and in five years the amount has grown nicely.’ Hemant looked satisfied. Astha had heard all this before, heard when the bonus shares came, heard when the dividends came, when the debentures were bought, heard as it doubled, trebled, quadrupled. There was no question of touching it, she knew that. Only somewhere surely there was money she could touch? She said as much.

Hemant looked at her. ‘Who is putting these ideas into your head?’

‘Nobody‚’ said Astha offended. ‘Does somebody have to tell me to want a car?’

‘Mama, Papa is getting you a car?’ Anuradha. Hemant had told her first.

‘It is also my money‚’ said Astha suddenly angry. The children turned towards her, slightly shocked. Only prices were discussed in their house, never money, and certainly not whose money was whose. It was all common money because they were a family.

‘Papa’s money too‚’ said Anuradha quickly.

‘Of course Papa’s money too. But if necessary I will hold an exhibition to help pay for this car.’

Himanshu put his hand into hers. ‘When I earn I will buy you a car‚’ he proclaimed. Astha tightened her hold on his thin interwoven fingers and stared at the overgrown nails, at the fine hair glinting blondly, at the sun exposed brown skin.

‘And I will buy a car for Papa‚’ said Anuradha.

‘But Papa and Mama are not separate‚’ said Astha, quickly. ‘Whatever you buy will be for both of us. Don’t I use the car we already have? It is not Papa’s or mine. And now we will have a second car, besides the one upstairs, neither Papa’s nor mine, but for everybody. We are a family with growing needs.’

It was the end of the term, before the summer holidays, and PTA day. Astha was in her children’s school, trying not to stare at the fathers and mothers around her, united and content.

There was a whole list of teachers she had to see.

Himanshu had done badly in his mid-terms. He hadn’t finished his papers, but really he knew everything. Astha was waiting to tell his class teacher this, something she had been saying since nursery. The teacher in turn would tell her that even so, he had to increase his speed, other children managed.
If he didn’t, he was going to find it very difficult at the higher levels. Astha could predict the conversation verbatim, but these motions had to be gone through.

Anuradha was doing badly in science and maths. She didn’t understand the method of explanation, and Astha had to find out why in a way that didn’t compromise her daughter’s intelligence, attentiveness, or abilities. Both her children were dead against her discussing any of their problems in school. Before she had left Anu had screamed, don’t say anything, don’t Mama, then in class the teacher says, so you are having difficulties, why don’t you ask me during the lesson instead of complaining later, and the kids stare at me, as though I am a moron. Besides, I keep telling you, there is no
point
asking for explanations, they all repeat the same thing in the same way, only slower.

Himanshu had looked equally worried, you are not going to say anything to my teacher, are you, Mama? In class, she’ll say something to me, she will get angry.

With the futility of it all firmly established, she waited in line after line to see various instructors, behind parents busy pumping them for the secret of success in that particular subject. She was going to be late for her meeting with Pipee, why had she, against all experience, allotted two hours to school? Now precious minutes were being wasted in the corridors of this huge and unfeeling institution.

The maths teacher, Mr Sharma, before whom there was a line half a mile long. Anu obviously not the only one having problems. After an hour of waiting, her turn.

Anuradha? Yes, a very bright child, but she should work harder, if she has a problem in following, she should ask me, I tell them, ask me, there is no excuse for not understanding. She should do one hour timed exercise every day, maths is only practice.