Seven Shades of Grey

by Vivek Mehra

  ‘Believe me, it’s OK’ was the only reply that both of them got as my clothed body tried to walk past. The other woman reached for my flaccid member and tried to caress it through my attire. I gently pushed her hand away, gave her a smile and was on my way out of the Garden-of-Eden-hellhole. I reached the old flower’s table when the two women raced past me. Words in a strange tongue were said to the Madam and three pairs of eyes stared at me quirkily. I merely smiled at them and voiced a thank you, just before I pushed the colored, curtained door, willing my body to depart hurriedly.

  I was out in the balmy Bombay air, mind whirling, legs walking, carcass stinking. I could smell the room around me, brutally assaulting my nostrils. In actuality it was just the perfume-laced talcum powder, but to me it carried the stench of a rotting carcass. I concentrated hard on getting back to my house, blocking out all other thoughts that wanted to overwhelm me.

  Once in, I stripped and gathered every piece of clothing that I had just removed and pushed them into a separate laundry bag. I know I did not want the clothes of my smelling carrion polluting any others that might be in my normal wash-load. My naked, sweaty body soon stood in the cold water of a shower. A thousand needles emanated, pricking every square millimeter of my body, punishing me, reminding me of vile deeds done.

  I furiously rubbed perfumed soap all over my body trying desperately to cleanse my body, to get rid of the nauseating smell that continued to haunt my nostrils. I paid special attention to my member that had been into the mouth of hell and back. I reached for some antiseptic and applied it to my loins, yelping as the alcohol went to work, reached for shampoo and dowsed my hair with it. For eons I scrubbed and scrapped my body from head to toe, trying to launder it, perhaps trying harder still to purify the soul within. My fingers started resembling prunes as the combination of water, soap, antiseptic and shampoo wrinkled them. And then I had to stop.

  Soon I had fresh clothes on, and the first thing I did was go to the washing machine and put the day’s clothes in a separate batch to wash. My mind was still in a whirl and I was in a state of self-denial. Hours glued to the idiot box helped until I switched it off and got into bed, retiring for the night. The place next to me was empty as empty as the day had been. And my mind was assaulted by thoughts that I had bravely kept at bay.

  The woman had been beautiful, but while my body responded to her my mind did not. As a teenager I would have paid twice the amount to have such a perfect performer, and yet nothing had happened that day. I could not understand it, self-denial changing to astonishment eventually giving way to a wave of extreme guilt. As I thought about my lovely wife I wondered if I had cheated on her and how I would ever look her in the eyes when she returned. I had no ready answers to these questions, a mute spectator to events of my own creation, a perfect plan for a perfect afternoon that concluded in perfect disaster.

  I tried rationality to find answers. Maybe it was stress that took the focus away from sex and onto more mundane things like morality. It could be weakening libido thanks to the extra cigarettes I had started smoking. Whatever be the reasons there was no way I could ever hide this from Dolly!

  Are you insane? - saner half yelled at me.

  Insane or not, honesty is what my marriage stood on; I had to lie in the bed I had made.

  Yup, you are insane! - saner half continued commenting.

  Confusion made passionate love to me that night, never leaving me alone for even a fleeting moment. This time around though she had another sister of hers helping out, FEAR!

  There were two more agonizing weeks to go before Dolly returned, two weeks to cleanse my body, my soul and prepare a speech explaining things to her. And the two weeks disappeared in a blink of an eye.

  It was late in the evening when I picked her up from the airport. We had exchanged the customary pleasantries, and I tried hard not to look in her eyes.

  Concentrate on your driving, concentrate on the speech that you want to give you dumb idiot!

  Dolly’s banter, bringing me up to speed with everything and everyone in Allahabad ensured that the journey was without event, and soon we were in the comfortable confines of our home. I felt secure, quite unlike the Garden of Eden.

  MAA give me strength! My aching soul cried out.

  It was customary that whenever I entered the house I bowed at the small altar, the one I prayed at every morning and before I retired for the night. MAA was MAA Kali the presiding deity at the altar, the one I loved and prayed to.

  Dolly went in for a shower, and I took one after her. She invited me to join her, but my guilt would not permit me. I had to tell her before I ever laid hands on her again. The time she was in the shower and subsequently myself was spent in going over the speech. It was more frightening than any I had made in public speaking contests, or in front of my parents explaining diminished school grades or before bankers selling my project. I had no clue as to how she would react. My worst fear was that she would want to catch the next plane out and head back to her mother’s house.

  How would I explain her sudden departure to my parents, her parents, my neighbors and our friends? My body trembled at the thought, my soul long numb. I had to get it over with. There was no other way out.

  As soon as we snuggled in bed I told her about how much I had missed her and how my body had ached. She looked at me with intent eyes. I could not meet her gaze, but she made sure that while I spoke I looked into her eyes and I tried very hard to do just that. I came to the massage parlor’s tale of woe and relayed it as simply as I could, body trembling and voice quivering.

  I finished the entire story not losing details of my tormented soul rushing home, bathing and asking forgiveness of MAA and now of my wife. Dolly was silent. She continued to look at me – and then it happened. Her face broke into a smile, the smile grew wider, and before I knew it she was laughing hysterically. A thousand hyenas cackling over a kill!

  I just could not believe my ears! Even now when I think of it I don’t believe the fact that she laughed the way she did. I tried to explain to her, and she would not listen to me. She almost fell off the bed laughing. I sat up on my side sulking. Having calmed her hysteria she crawled over to me and spoke in her soft voice, asking me to describe exactly what that woman had done to me, and I just could not believe what my ears heard and what my eyes saw.

  She wanted to know all the details!

  Insanity!

  She instructed me to close my eyes, lie down on my back and replay the entire incident in my mind, relaying thoughts verbally. I had filed it away in my memory bank, was forced to retrieve it, given no choice but to obey. I started giving clinical mundane details starting from aching loins, and she wanted me to cut to the part where the woman started working on me. I looked at her, and the half-stern half-amused look in her eyes made me obey.

  Just tell her and get it over with! - saner half prompted. And I was back to shutting my eyes, replaying the video of that day.

  As I relayed what I had experienced Dolly followed it by imitating the actions, behaving similar to the woman that day. I stopped at the part where the woman removed the last shred of clothing on my person and proceeded orally. I did not need to.

  Dolly had long stopped laughing, lost the half-stern half-amused look, her face very close to my loins. I was not aroused at all. My guilt had overpowered every other feeling that very moment. She silently took off my nightclothes and resumed snuggling at my loins. I was too scared to look, too confused to read her mind. My eyes opened and she met my gaze, my eyes blinking, hers unflinching. Then slowly she proceeded, her hands caressing me, tenderly arousing me, loving me, and soon her mouth reached to make oral love to my caressed, aroused and love-hardened member. I looked in astonishment as my body responded to her touch. My mind also followed suit and before long both were in sync. My eyes never left hers and hers never left mine.

  I could see love and nothing but pure love in those eyes. I can never forget that look. It’s the most precious memory that
I have and one that I guard zealously. Her love flowed through her eyes, her hands, her mouth, from every pore on her body and from the depths of her soul. There we were, me the almost animal, she the perfect angel, locked in love, a love that I knew existed, never experienced to this depth before. And it took me deeper. My body and soul in perfect harmony, watching, responding, and loving, like they had never before.

  A giant orgasm started from the depths of my soul, reaching my aching loins ready to bear the fruit of this labor. And it did. As my body quivered with pleasure and as my soul glowed with love, my loins erupted. Dolly’s eyes never left me even though mine soon shut and her lips stayed glued in place. I remained lost in the orgasm, lost in the peace that my mind was at, lost in the release my aching loins craved for so long. After what seemed an eternity, I felt her mouth leave me, her body slide its way to lie on top of me. My chest was heaving, breathe coming in short gasps and a comfortable weight resting on me, watching it all. My eyes willed themselves open, and I was staring eyeball to eyeball, staring deeply into the windows to the soul of the woman who loved me. Instinctively my arms reached to embrace her, squeezing her, trying hard to get the two bodies to merge.

  ‘Whoa fatso, I don’t want you squeezing the daylights out of me,’ and I loosened the hold.

  ‘I love you,’ I whimpered. Her eyes blinked in response, a small glowing smile on her face. We lay there for a bit, me exhausted, she glowing, not a word escaping our lips. She then rolled over to her side of the bed, and my eyes fell on the wall clock that adorned our room. I could not believe the time that had lapsed. To me it had been an eternity and a lifetime, but in reality the entire episode took half the time spent at the Garden of Eden. The loving could not have lasted more than three minutes, at best.

  Three minutes? I could not believe the time. And my rested orgasmed mind stirred, ready to plunge into thought.

  What was it with Dolly that was different from the woman at the parlor? They were both women, each good looking in her own way. One did it for a living, one for no reason really. One probably did not remember the faces of all that walked through her life, this one not forgetting tiny details of the one that was in her life. There was just one answer, an answer that I knew had to be the only explanation, the only eternal truth, love.

  Dolly loved me from every pore in her body, and I now understood that I felt the same way. I was sure that I loved her too; a husband must love his wife. But there was more. Why did my body refuse to respond to the expert and respond readily to this one? It could be relief at having confessed. But then again the stress leading to this confession had been far greater than any I felt at the parlor. No, it could not be stress.

  It is love! Love from the depths of your soul, one that you never knew existed - saner half triumphantly stated, and for once I believed and listened to it.

  It was love for this woman that held me back, that fought against every carnal desire that sneaked up on me. Unknown to me something inside me had subjected me to the ultimate test, then the ultimate revelation and one that I glowed in that night. I turned to face her, and my arms encircled her once again. Her body slithered closer to mine, just as it had done for so many years, and this time the depths of my soul responded. There could be no better example of love that flowed through our bodies that night, the one that made each one of us glow, made the whole world light up with a thousand stars and each one of them smiling down at us.

  That night I told her a million times that I loved her, and her only reply was that my body had proved to her that I spoke the truth: a matter- of fact statement from plain Jane turned beautiful-head-turner, now the embodiment of love, of unconditional and selfless love, fused to my body and soul.

  *

  Six years have passed since then, six lifetimes of love. We are still normal human beings going through all that normal human beings go through in life, but today while I am once again Solitary Man she has become Mom-to-be.

  *

  This was probably why I was not offended at Reshma’s statement a year ago. She did not know what my marriage was, she could not know for I had not told her. I sent her an email giving the entire incident and how it had ensured that I did not have the need to get my rocks off. The next day she was back in chat with me, thanking me for the email, complimenting Dolly and telling me how lucky I was. I asked the most logical question that could follow her statements. I asked her what she would have done had she been in Dolly’s shoes. Her reply was not very startling.

  Delta2000: I think he must be thinking about other women but would not cheat on me cause he knows I have a temper

  VikSin: so your temper prevents him from doing that?

  Delta2000: yes

  VikSin: n u believe it is ONLY yr temper that prevents him from cheating?

  Delta2000: YES

  VikSin: I feel sorry for u

  Delta2000: sorry why?

  VikSin: I think the man must love u enough not to want another woman in his life

  Delta2000: I am sure he does but …

  VikSin: but u believe that it is just ur temper that prevents him from ‘cheating’ on u …

  Delta2000: I do believe he loves me … u have got me confused

  VikSin: why confused?

  Delta2000: I want to say that he would not cheat on me because he loves me … but then I think it is probably my temper

  VikSin: why don’t u listen to yr heart?

  Delta2000: I don’t know what my heart says

  I knew that both of them had a wonderful marriage, and I knew that they cared a lot about each other. She also believed she loved him and believed the reverse as well. Yet here was a peculiar situation. For all the love that they professed for each other, she just could not bring herself to believe that only because of that love her husband would not cheat on her. He could not cheat because he feared her temper, she argued, or did cheat and could not tell her because he feared her temper. Yet I knew that neither of these was true.

  The daily grind had brought a steady flow of dust that settled on their love, hiding the truth, dulling the shine that existed, one that needed to be swept just a little to reveal its shrouded brilliance, at least to her. And that is what I did.

  In chat I told her to go back to the time when her husband had read the email sent to her by a friend, the one in which the stupid friend had professed undying love for her, knowing very well that she was married and a mother of two. I told her to recall her husband’s reactions that day. I pointed out that he could only react in the way that he did because of love. It would have been a perfect excuse to lose his temper, to yell at her or even more drastically, to leave her. He could have hurled a thousand allegations, and she could have spent several lifetimes explaining her innocence. But none of that had happened, and she was still happily married. Was it love or not, I asked her?

  She responded by disconnecting from chat and picking up the phone to speak to me. Her voice cried that day, just as her soul probably did too. I tried my best to calm her, and she explained that the tears were of joy of knowing that there was someone who loved her that much. She promised that day forth she would look at her husband with the same eyes that Dolly looked at me. The phone call had to be short - it was long distance - but the glow never left me, never ceased to warm the cockles of my heart. Solitary Man had discovered love and had spread it to one other soul through the Internet. It made me feel wonderful and complete.

  *

  I continue to glow in this love, sitting motionless in the waiting room, awaiting another miracle of love to find its place in this mundane world, one that had been predicted by Insanity, the one I still refuse to confront. And confront it I must. It too is real, a part of me that cannot be erased, much like the time Reshma and Marilyn met each other.

  *

  7. East meets West

  Whenever Dolly was away on her annual visits I spent more time reading making up for the one lost when she was around. Last year that had changed a bit as the Internet foun
d its way into my life. Marilyn, Reshma were part of the daily fare followed by Bindu and occasionally Aviva. The common thread linking them to me was love, each of distinct genus, each a shade of bright yellow, hues of sunshine brought to my otherwise mundane and lonely life.

  I had some self-imposed rules that I followed on the Net; I never discussed personal issues of one friend with the other. I firmly believed that thoughts shared with me by any one of them were meant for my eyes and ears only. Had they been for public consumption they would probably be posted on a website or a bulletin board. I followed this rule diligently, it having proven itself in the old world of flesh and bones too.

  There were times, however, that I mentioned making a new friend or coming across a strange ID to this inner circle of friends. Most of them would ask for cursory details of location, marital status and age. Every one kept my rule in mind, steering clear of asking any kind of personal questions about the other.

  Marilyn and Reshma were the closest to my heart, no doubt about that. I sometimes wondered what it would be like to introduce the two to each other. I could trust each one of them and was sure that they would be comfortable with the other in a chat room. My excitement grew when I thought of this prospect; it was another frontier that I could conquer, and another milestone on this journey of sailing uncharted waters on the Internet. The opportunity came soon.

  Marilyn and Reshma were both online one afternoon, and I was trying really hard to keep pace with two independent private message screens. My typing skills had improved considerably what with the time I spent on the Net. I asked each one separately if they would like to get together in a three-way conference chat. Not surprisingly, both agreed.

  *

  A three-way conference! Not all were as pleasant, not all as comfortable; there was another lurking in the not-too-distant future of the first one! And I refuse to confront it. For now, with the pregnant ox for company, the barbers’ refuse on table and my ample frame shuffling in the chair, I will lose myself in the pleasant memories of that first conference, the one that showed me how much I was loved.