Seven Shades of Grey

by Vivek Mehra

  She was dressed in a black body suit, which displayed her assets very well. The suit was made completely of lace and every curve of her well-endowed body was sneakily peeking at me. She had left her hair down and her luxurious mane added to her sensuality. Her lips were red with my favorite colored lipstick. She stood in the doorway for a brief instant, and I opened my arms to welcome her. Her eyes were full of love as they turned to gaze at me, and the rest of her slowly headed towards me, our eyes firmly locked in love, no sound escaping quivering lips. She looked heavenly.

  She was soon in my arms. Two pairs of eyes closed as two pairs of lips locked again. Our arms were holding each other, lips fused together, tongues gently probing, dueling, reaffirming the love that made us glow. After what seemed an eternity my hands let go of her just long enough for me to lift the cover sheet, to reveal the flower petals and my raging manhood. She too broke the embrace as her gently opening eyes looked inside mine. The love that flowed was two souls housed in two bodies yearning to become one.

  She looked at the petals and me in all my glory and crawled under the cover sheet beside me. That night love filled the entire universe, racing through loving hearts, panting bodies, aching loins. Not a word was spoken, nor warranted – our bodies did the talking. And soon the two exhausted bodies fell asleep in each other’s arms.

  We lay there for more than half the night till I was awoken by the weight of her gently heaving body resting on mine. I gingerly moved her away from me, ensuring that she did not awaken. Our naked bodies were covered by a thin satin sheet and yet we felt no chill. The warmth of our bodies and the love in our hearts provided all the comfort we needed. As I lay on my side of the bed, sleep left me. In the dark still night I said a silent prayer to Maa, thanking her for bringing my wife back to me. My eyes were closed as I focused on Her and was still in the middle of my prayers when I felt a light glow.

  The light grew steadily brighter, and then my closed eyes saw Maa bathed in it, once again. I first bowed in reverence and then raised my head to see her blazing eyes. The fire was there but I now understood that it was love that traveled from her eyes to me. The smile on her face was divine. And at that very moment a single thought raced in my mind; the thought that was destined to come true – ‘Maa is ready to come to me.’

  For the next seven days I followed Marilyn’s advice. I forgot the Internet, forgot to check emails, and most importantly forgot Dolly66, making love to my wife being the sole purpose of my existence. And she felt closer to me too. We made love like two souls lost for eons who had suddenly been reunited. Sweat-covered bodies forgot time, forgot chores, forgot each other, and every night ended better than the first. And every night MAA came to bless me. She came just after I had made love and just before my exhausted body drifted into slumber, a state of ecstatic limbo as reverent as prayer. I was in complete harmony with the world around, and my short-circuited brain slowly healed.

  In other moments we discussed the five weeks we were away from each other. She did ask me about my friends on the Net, and I followed Marilyn’s advice to the letter. I never mentioned Dolly66 and the circumstances of her last communication. My wife did probe about her, and I closed the book by stating that she was not in touch with me.

  *

  A different kind of love flowed through us that week, sensual, erotic, fulfilling and ethereal. A different kind of shiver runs through me even now, ecstatic, loving and warming. And that love had borne fruit that is soon to arrive in another room.

  My friends came back to help me heal and at their instance I had revealed all about Dolly66 to the original - my Dolly. And I was to see a different side of her; one that I never knew existed and one that made me love her even more. The sanctity of marriage was explained to me the day I probed about Dolly66.

  *

  It was a breezy Sunday a few weeks after Dolly had returned from her hometown. To ensure that Dolly66 never came back to haunt me or affect my marriage Marilyn and Reshma suggested that I reveal all to my wife. And that Sunday I did. I had made hard copies of the emails and the chats and handed them to her over dinner.

  ‘I don’t want to read them,’ she insisted.

  ‘But I want you to. I have never hidden anything from you, and all these years we have stood by honesty in our marriage. I feel that by not telling you I will be hiding a part of me from you.’

  ‘Has anyone else seen this?’ I know my Net friends were being referred to.

  ‘No, I have not sent out hard copies, but Marilyn and Reshma know the gist of it.’

  ‘And what did they have to say about it?’ a matter-of-fact question devoid of any kind of sarcasm.

  ‘Will tell you that after I hear your opinion.’

  ‘Fine. Will read it and let you know.’

  Every day after that, I waited for a reaction. I wanted to hear that she had read all that I had given her, but she gave me nothing to go by. I could see no noticeable difference in her attitude either. We still went about our daily chores without any hint of a storm, at least none from her. My mind was at times attacked by a whirlpool sucking me into its vortex that I created with my own thoughts; she in contrast remained a complete picture of serenity. I decided then that I had to take the bull by its horns and confront her. If there was a storm brewing inside her, the sooner it got out the better - at least for me. The whirlpool had not yet given birth to a storm inside me, and I did not want to wait till one was born. The following Saturday I confronted her.

  ‘Dolly, could we talk?’ I inquired as soon as I had sipped my cup of tea, minutes after I had reached home from work.

  ‘What about?’

  As if you don’t know? I wanted to yell. Instead, I posed a simple question: ‘Have you finished reading what I gave you?’

  ‘Yes I have. What do you want to talk about?’ she replied - no sarcasm, no taunts, just a deadpan expression on her beautiful face.

  ‘Well what did you think about it?’ I probed.

  ‘What is there to think?’ she replied plainly.

  ‘You must have something to say about it all. Something about why you think she left or what happened!’ I prodded.

  ‘If you are wondering if I am angry or upset, then put your mind at ease. It does not matter to me,’ she replied, plain Jane.

  ‘Shouldn’t you be?’

  ‘Should I be?’

  ‘I don’t know. That is why I am asking you. Please talk to me.’ I motioned for her to sit in front of me on the bed. She obliged, and I thought this was it, the moment of truth, and the butterflies in my stomach decided to flutter from their hitherto comfortable perch. I tried to peer into her face to try to read her thoughts. I could not. Me the soothsayer, me the photo reader, me the traveler in the great void was sitting like another rabbit blinded in the headlights of another oncoming vehicle, too scared to move.

  ‘What did Marilyn and Reshma have to say about Dolly Nair?’ not a very surprising question.

  ‘They felt that she probably bit off more than she could chew. She probably fell in love with something in me and then realized she could not have it all, and that is why she thought it better that she left.’

  My sunshine listened patiently, not an expression on her face.

  ‘Probably,’ she said softly.

  ‘What do you think?’ I continued probing.

  ‘Did they ask you to show these emails to me?’

  Here was a question that really stumped me. I knew the answer to this one, but I sat like the rabbit in the headlights, too stunned to move.

  ‘No, they did not. Marilyn just suggested that I not discuss Dolly Nair with you for a few days after you got back. She did not want it to upset you or ruin your homecoming.’ I knew it was a white lie. I did not want to put my friends on the spot, or was I merely protecting myself?

  The statement made her snigger and for the first time I saw a hint of an expression adorn her face. It was one of contempt and disdain.

  ‘Well, she does not know me then, nor does sh
e know what kind of relationship we share.’

  ‘What kind of relationship do we share, Dolly? I have given you a lot of material that could mean a lot and might even hurt you. But I want to explain things to you…’

  ‘Hurt me…? and you want to explain things to me…?’ Contempt made way for a frown, and anger raced to possess her.

  ‘What could you possibly explain to me? Fatso, I know you better than anyone on this planet, more than even you know yourself!’ And anger gripped her completely. Her body sat upright, eyes blazed and there was no stopping her now.

  ‘What could you ever explain to me? Nine years that I have lived with you have taken me through more than a lifetime of trials and tribulations, and do you still think you could explain things to me? I have seen you go through two failed businesses. I have seen you trying to go one way, your so-called well-wishers dragging you in the other. When the first one failed nothing was said to your face, but I heard most of the hushed whispers. When the second one failed they became bolder and yet did not have the courage to tell you to your face, but that does not mean they spared me.’

  ‘What did who say to you?’ it was my turn to frown.

  ‘It does not matter. You know who and what they had to say. I don’t blame you for not reacting violently to them because I know you. I know that you believed that probably you were to blame in some way, and trust me you were wrong to think that. I was not angry with them but was with you. I was angry because you were putting yourself down for no fault of yours, and still I kept my thoughts to myself. Then when we could not have a baby, things were said in whispers again. Not hushed enough for me not to hear. They said things about you, about our relationship, our marriage and all the so-called wrong that you did when you were in the States. When the rounds of the doctors were being done and each attempt failed, there was more whispering.’ She paused for breath and in a flash was scampering again.

  ‘Go back to the time when we got married. You were model material and I was plain Jane. From the day we got married I have heard so much shit about our ‘mismatch’ that if I hear it one more time I will throw up. At first it bothered me. I used to wonder why you ever agreed to marry me in the first place if most of your relatives thought me unfit a ‘match’ for you. In those early days I would constantly wonder what my plight would be! Would I be one of those statistics listing the number of women who were left by the husband? I was insane to think that. Over time you made the extra effort, went the extra mile to make me feel comfortable, both at home and in public. You made me feel loved, and most of all you made me feel wanted.’ Her eyes turned moist, but no tear fell. Anger was raging like a storm inside her, leaving no room for tears. I continued to sit like the rabbit, too dumbstruck to move.

  ‘Every time we went visiting a doctor you were there with me. We both noticed that most patients at these doctors were females, without their husbands in tow. At those times I strutted like a peacock because I had you, my man, with me. You made me feel proud, made me feel wanted and made me feel loved. Every time an effort to conceive failed, you masked your disappointment by putting on a happy face, just for me. You did that not to deceive yourself but merely because you did not want me to feel any worse than I already did. You would hug me, tell me how much you loved me and how these days would pass and we would both laugh about it some day.’ The dumbstruck rabbit’s eyes started turning moist.

  ‘In the last eight years of our marriage I have heard you talk about your life in the States, the amount of money you had with you, the life you led and the women you were with. You may not be able to see it fatso, but you would have a serene look on your face and a twinkle in your eyes. I could swear that at times you were going to cry and you did not: at least not in front of me. I know how much you want to succeed. I know how much you would want to wash all the shit that ‘well-wishers’ around you have plastered on your face. If you could have your way then the failures of your work, the lack of a family, the lack of spending money and the property problems would all be whisked away overnight. I know you did the right thing with the property, but it’s been over a year, and you have not been able to do what you wanted with it. I have seen the hurt in your eyes when your father let fly his fiery temper at you. I know how much that broke you inside.’ A tear left the corner of my left eye, racing down my cheek, soon to become a blotch on my shirt. And Dolly was relentless.

  ‘When you first mentioned the Internet and chatting to me, I saw a faint hint of the same old twinkle return to your eyes. I was at a crossroad then. I kept quiet because I did not understand what the Internet was or what chatting was. But I understood that for the first time in years you were doing something that inadvertently made you happy. You were suddenly less anxious and less troubled. You loved to talk about it, but when you did, your words were lost to me. I just kept looking at your face, in your eyes, and was lost in the happiness that radiated from you.’ She reached out and wiped the glistening path that another tear had drawn on my face. But she was not done yet.

  ‘When you would go to work I would think about what you had said the previous evening and try to remember all of it. I slowly got involved with each one of your friends because I found them to be humans just like you and me. In some way getting involved in their problems made us forget our own. The most important thing that it did to us was bring us closer to each other all over again. It was like getting married to the man I loved with my heart and soul. More important to me was the fact that I was with the one who loved me. What is there in life beyond love?’

  ‘Going back to your stay in the States: you loved each woman that you were with, for a reason. You had a hundred reasons to marry any one of them, and yet you married me. There was no real reason for that. Think about it. Your family met mine, each had an offspring of marriageable age and we got married. It was both of us merely fulfilling our obligation to our parents, at least that is the way I saw it then. I sure was smitten by you, but I know the same was not true with you. It could have been highly possible that you could have fulfilled your family duties by marrying me and then leaving me for one of your ex-girlfriends or a new one that you might have found. I could not be sure then, could I?’

  ‘When the going got tough at work, I was afraid that you would just quit and go back to the States. But no! You did not quit your work, and you did not quit your marriage. You worked towards both.’

  ‘As an Indian woman I had been taught that I must obey my husband more than I should love him. Love might follow, if I was lucky.’ A smirk forced me to change the contours of my face.

  ‘Hey, I am no big city girl with forward-thinking parents. I am a simple small-town girl who had led a simple life with very simple god-fearing parents to bring me up. My values may be distorted, but who cares?’ The smirk disappeared as I tried to interject.

  ‘No, today it’s my turn to speak, so please shut up!’ And I did.

  ‘I could have just walked out on you, going back to the simple life I led earlier with my parents when life became unbearable for me. But every time I flirted with this thought, I asked myself just one question. Does my fatso love me or not? Not once did I hear my heart say that you did not. And I would dismiss the very idea of ever being separated from you. Every single rose you ever gave me, every little effort that you ever made to express your love for me is imprinted on my heart. I could never understand why you loved me, but I could not ignore the fact that you expressed it. At first I thought you were just trying to play the role of a perfect husband, and in my heart I dreaded the day you would walk out on me. That day never came.’

  ‘I remember when we used to go partying with your friends. Most of them are married to big city girls, slick, beautiful with gorgeous bodies that they love to flaunt. At times I was the one making excuses for not going and you literally had to drag me to go with you. Not once did you ever let me feel small in front of them, nor did you ever feel ashamed to be seen in public with me. I refused to wear revealing outfits, almost dressing
up like a fanciful maid most of the times. And I know I gave in to your wishes while still keeping my modesty intact. You too adapted to my needs. The love that flowed through you was never lost on me even with little gestures of choosing my clothes for the evening and helping me with my makeup. Nothing escaped me, fatso. Nothing!’ She paused for breath and I was still the dumbstruck rabbit. I felt as if a hurricane had made my bedroom its home and was swishing and swirling me like an inconsequential twig caught in its fury. Dolly was in complete control of this hurricane and completely untouched by it.

  ‘You loved me when you had a hundred tempting reasons not to. What could this Internet chatting ever do to me that you could not have done to me earlier? Let’s take this to its illogical extreme. Let’s say you did meet someone on the Net or in real life who really got you horny. She might have the body to die for, a voice that sounds like music to your ears and bedroom antics that would thoroughly satiate you. Let’s just say you got first-hand information about all of this, and you gave into temptation. I know you, fatso. You would not last very long with her.’

  This amused me.

  ‘You once told me that you had been with a lot of beautiful women in the States.’

  This was true.

  ‘Then ask yourself this question: why did you not spend the rest of your life with any one of them? You might argue that circumstances prevented you or make some other sorry excuse. But I know the truth. Sure, we did not love each other when we got married. We did not love each other even in the first year of our marriage, but in time you planted the seed of love, nurtured it with care, and today it’s fully grown and in bloom. Every professional failure that crossed your path became our failure and was attacked head-on, standing hand-in-hand, shoulder-to-shoulder. With every prodigious disappointment that hit us, we held on to each other for comfort, never losing faith in each other. And that is the love you always yearned for. I know that you did not find this in any woman you have been with because no other woman understood you nor tried to understand you. Each loved you for a reason and expected the same in return. For the first time, I was thrust upon you, and you began to love me for no reason.’