His golden-brown hair was a mess as if he had run his fingers through them again and again. There was a thick growth of beard on his cheeks and his eyes were bloodshot. He looked unkempt, to put it mildly.
She walked into the room, eyeing him warily. He looked like a caged lion, ready to pounce.
“To what do I owe the honour of this visit?” he asked sarcastically, the words slurring.
“Are you drunk, Gautam?” asked Sangita, her eyes fearful.
“And thus she greets me.” Gautam rolled his eyes towards the ceiling, indignation in his stance. “I'm fine, thank you, kind lady,” he said sarcastically.
“I asked you a question,” said Sangita doggedly. She was clear that she didn't want to deal with a drunken man.
“Believe me, I wish I were. I tried it last Sunday. It brought me no relief and I hated myself the next morning.” He paused to catch his breath. “Now tell me why you've come, Sangita? To find out if I'm alive or dead?”
The dart hit home, bull's eye. Colour suffused Sangita's face as her eyes darkened with hurt and anguish.
Gautam swore profusely as he felt like a heel when he saw her hurt with the pain he had inflicted.
“I'm sorry, Sangita. That was uncalled for.” He drew in a deep breath and let it out in a long sigh. She'd lost weight too, he thought as he studied her hungrily.
Sangita missed the spark in the blue eyes and regretted the loss of the dimple, which seemed to be gone forever.
He squashed the cigarette in the ashtray that was overflowing, his gesture violent. She watched the way his T-shirt hung on him, not fitting him anymore.
“What have you done to yourself, Gautam?” she asked with a tremor in her voice.
“What makes you think that you've the right to ask me that?” asked Gautam. He felt a deep urge to hurt her, although it affected him too. The way he'd suffered this past week, he wouldn't wish it on his worst enemy.
“Gautam, I'm sorry.”
“What for?” he snarled. “That you have such power over me; to reduce me to this level? Don't be. You've caught me at a low moment. This shouldn't last. I'm a survivor and I'll definitely get through this phase. Please don't worry your pretty head on my behalf.” Anger and frustration shook Gautam's body. He folded his arms tightly to stop them from going around the woman in front of him.
“Gautam, please listen...”
“Do I have to, Sangita? I think I heard enough last Sunday. I don't want your damned pity,” he swore. “If those two interfering busybodies had been anyone other than the grandparents I adore, believe me, I'd kill them with my bare hands.”
Sangita looked at him, bewildered. “But why?”
“Because they can't mind their own bloody business and had to call you...'
“But Gautam, they didn't call me.”“No?” Gautam looked at Sangita, confused. It didn't strike him that she could have come of her own volition. No way! Sangita was too scared of her parents. And their opinion mattered more to her than anything else.
“Of course not, Gautam. Please believe me. I came because...” Sangita hesitated. Now that she was here, her courage fled. She didn't know what to say.
Gautam stared at her intently, as if willing her to utter the words he wanted to hear. Hope fluttered weakly in his heart. She had come to meet him on her own, risking her parents' wrath, not because someone had persuaded her to.
“Because?” he asked, a glimmer of hope on his face.
“I missed you, terribly,” confessed Sangita in a low voice. Gautam had to bend a long way to catch her words.
A slow smile lit his ragged features. “Not as much as I have missed you, darlin',” he said as he smiled into her eyes.
Gautam opened his arms wide and Sangita walked into them like a homing pigeon and buried her face onto his chest.
“Oh, Gautam, what do I do with you? You look ill,” she asked, her voice anxious. Gautam wound his fingers through her hair and tugged hard. He pressed his lips to hers as her face came up. His left arm tightened around her slender form as he kissed her hungrily.
“That's because my appetite for food has been non-existent these past few days,” Gautam whispered as he nibbled at her lower lip. “I almost lost my will to stay alive, Sangita,” he stated, his voice matter-of-fact, looking down at her pale features. “Only the thought of the hurt I'd inflict on my family has managed to stop me from killing myself.”
“Gautam!” Sangita's eyes rounded in shock.
“Marry me, Sangita, please. I've never had to ask for anything in my life. But, today I'm ready to go on my knees and beg you, darlin'. Please say 'yes'. I can't live without you.” Misery wrenched Gautam as he overcame his pride to beseech her.
Her parents' reaction took a backseat as Sangita looked at Gautam's tortured face before closing her eyes tightly.
“I'll make you very unhappy, Gautam,” she said.
“That's my lookout, sweetheart. How about you? Do you fear that maybe I'll make you unhappy?” he countered.
Sangita mentally thought of the blissful life of being married to him. She would always feel cherished and wanted. As for Sandeep, he couldn't ask for a better father. But whenever she thought of sharing a bed with him, an icy shiver ran down her spine.
“No one can make me happier than you, Gautam,” declared Sangita truthfully.
Gautam buried his face in her neck, his body shaking in reaction. His lips pressed against the pulse beating wildly at her throat. Sangita felt her heart leap in response to the touch of his hair-roughened jawline.
“Then why don't you just say, 'yes' and put us out of this misery?” he growled.
“I'd like to talk to you first, Gautam.” Sangita tugged at his hair and he raised his head reluctantly to look at her.
“What about?”
“My marriage to Giridhar.”
“It doesn't make a difference to me, sweetheart. In fact, I don't want to particularly hear about it.”
“Please.”
“Okay. Go ahead and tell me if you must.”
Sangita felt a smile of pleasure tugging at her lips as she watched Gautam.
“Is something funny?” he asked suspiciously.
“Why, nothing,” she said, eyeing him innocently.
“Okay.” Gautam walked to a roomy, single sofa, plopped down on it and pulled her on his lap. Sangita snuggled close to him with a contented sigh.
“Just one thing, though,” she said hesitantly.
“Get on with it, woman. Don't try my patience,” he grunted.
Sangita smiled at him beguilingly. “Have you had any breakfast?”
Gautam glared at her. “Does it have anything to do with your first marriage?”
“No.” Sangita's eyes danced. “But maybe the second one that I'm considering,” she grinned at him cheekily.
The blue eyes caught fire as he looked down at her glowing face. Crushing her to his taut body, he kissed her forcefully, his tongue plundering the sweet depths of her mouth.
When they finally came up for air, Gautam said firmly, “I'm not hungry for food, only you.” He spoke close to her ear, his tongue tracing the shell-like curve. He blew gently, creating myriad sensations that she couldn't quite identify.
Sangita blanched on hearing this and pushed at his chest, hard. But Gautam refused to let go and held her tightly. “What happened now?” he asked, a frown marring his features.
Sangita squirmed in his hold. “That's exactly what's worrying me, Gautam.”
“What?”
“The physical side of marriage,” she blurted out.
His frown grew deeper. “But why?”
“It leaves me cold,” the words were wrung out of Sangita. She hated telling him that.
“That's utter nonsense and you know it,” said Gautam, his finger tracing the curve of her soft cheek, enjoying the feel of her silky skin.
“Gautam, listen to me,” Sangita pleaded, sure that he wasn't paying enough attention.
Her fingers traced
his unshaven jaw, enjoying the rough texture against her soft palm. She raised her head to press a kiss against the shadow of the dimple that had reappeared along with his smile.
“I don't know how to tell you this. I realised it when I was married to Giridhar.” Sangita's lips drooped sadly.
Gautam looked at Sangita's sad face with adoration in his gaze. He ran his fingers through the dark silken strands of her hair, finding it difficult to keep his hands off her. “Sangita.” Gautam pressed his lips to her cheek, tracing the curve gently. “Is there a need for you to undergo this torture, my love?”
Sangita looked up at Gautam's face, her arms around his neck. “Yeah, I need to,” she said firmly. “Once you hear me out you'll realise why I can't marry you. Only I don't know where to begin.”
Gautam sighed. “Let's get something clear first. No force on earth can dissuade me from marrying you.” He looked down intently at her. “Why don't you start at the beginning and get it off your chest?” he prompted gently.
Sangita closed her eyes tightly before pressing her cheek against the broad chest in front of her. She felt so secure in Gautam's arms that she had some difficulty recalling the horror that had been her married life.
She spoke in a soft voice and Gautam bent forward to catch her words, not wanting to miss any part of her narrative. “I was barely nineteen when I was married. My parents had chosen Giridhar for my husband. He was a graduate with a secure government job and our horoscopes matched. His parents lived in Delhi and he had a small flat of his own here at Madras. His parents left the same day, as soon as the wedding was over and Giridhar and I started our life on our own in his flat...
It was their wedding night and Sangita was a bundle of nerves. The couple had dinner at the wedding hall and after the guests left, had headed to Giridhar's flat.
Her brand-new husband had said or done nothing to put Sangita at ease. He had just shown her the bedroom and left her on her own.
The large, double bed dominating the room made her nervous. The books she'd read and the advice her friends had given her hadn't quite prepared Sangita for a night in a stranger's arms.
And yes, that's what Giridhar was, a stranger. They had been engaged for more than a month. He had made no effort to get to know her then. They had barely greeted each other when they met at the wedding.
And today, he had just left her in the bedroom and gone out, she didn't know where.
Sangita took a shower and wore the brand new nightie her friends had gifted her. It was of thin cotton and quite comfortable. She sat on the bed and awaited her husband, like a lamb for a slaughter.
Giridhar staggered in at about one o'clock and seemed startled to find her awake with the light on. He seemed astonished there was somebody at home.
“Oh! I forgot you were here,” he said, his voice slurred. What a wonderful compliment to a bride on her wedding night!
Giridhar walked close to Sangita and stared at her as one would at a specimen under a microscope. She controlled the revulsion that threatened to shake her body. She looked at her husband properly for the first time.
Giridhar was of medium height with a brown complexion. Quite normal until you looked at his face. He had a narrow forehead, a mean pair of black, near-set eyes, flaring nostrils and extremely thin lips giving the impression of an insensitive person. His oily, black hair was plastered to his skull, adding to his villainous looks.
Sangita stared at him, horrified that she was married to this man. He seemed to be in constant movement as if his body wasn't quite in his control, clearly because of the alcohol he had consumed.
He continued to look at the beautiful girl who was his wife. A sneer pulled his lips towards the left side of his face.
“So,” Giridhar lifted her chin and stared at her. A sinister smile lit his face at the fear lurking in the depth of her eyes. “How does it feel being married, Mrs. Giridhar?” he asked.
Sangita tried in vain to extricate herself from his painful grip on her chin. His breath reeked of cheap liquor and she felt her stomach heaving.
What should a bride reply to this, she wondered. She didn't even know the man. She looked at him stonily, not knowing what to say, tongue-tied in the presence of this alien she was wedded to.
“Cat's got your tongue, woman?” Giridhar let go of her chin in disgust as he plopped on the bed close to her and started removing his shoes. He tossed them sloppily against the opposite wall. “My Rosy would have greeted me quite differently, you know,” he said conversationally, looking at Sangita from the corner of his eyes.
Sangita looked at him strangely. Who was he talking about? She wasn't to know that Giridhar kept Rosy in style and had no intention of letting her go even after his marriage. In fact, he had only married Sangita for the hefty dowry her parents had offered him which had gone to furnish the small flat he had gifted his mistress.
“Tell me, what's this you're wearing? A tent maybe,” he smiled widely at his own joke, suddenly reaching out for the neckline of her cotton nightie.
Sangita's eyes widened as a frisson of terror ran through her entire body. She stared at Giridhar's face, as it looked evil in the dim lighting of the table lamp. She moved away from him subtly, worried at how he might react.
Giridhar moved close to her swiftly, pinning her to the headboard, pressing his liquor-laden rough face against her neck. “Come on, baby, this is our wedding night, remember?” he laughed. “Let's have some fun.”
Sangita tried to open her mouth to voice her protest only to find Giridhar pressing his mouth roughly against hers, his large teeth biting her tender lips. She whimpered involuntarily in pain.
Giridhar raised his head to look at her. He felt a kick of pleasure course through him as he watched Sangita cower away from him in fear.
“I suppose you didn't like it,” said Giridhar in a reasonable tone. Sangita's relief was short-lived as he turned his attention away from her face to her body.
“Now, why don't you remove this tent?” said Giridhar as he got up to remove his own shirt and trousers rapidly. She turned her face away.
Sangita had a couple of married friends. Nothing they had mentioned had prepared her for the horror she was feeling. Was this how a man behaved on his wedding night? Unless maybe something was wrong with her! She was the one who was feeling a strong sense of revulsion. Nalini and Sita had confessed to a profound sense of joy in their respective husbands' arms.
She concluded that something was definitely wrong with her and not wanting to appear a freak, turned towards her groom of a few hours. The sight that met her eyes made her close them in a hurry as the blood drained out of her face.
She heard the low laughter that emanated from Giridhar as he moved towards her. He just presumed that she had closed her eyes in awe at the sight of his manhood. He pulled her on the floor and lifted the nightie off her in a single movement before she became aware of his intentions. Sangita stood shivering despite the warm weather, her arms folded tightly across her naked breasts, ashamed of her body that recoiled from the man who was her husband.
“Come on, don't act coy.” Giridhar pulled hard at her arms and kept them at her sides. He stared in fascination at her innocent breasts that had never felt the touch of a man and something seemed to break loose within him. He raised his cruel hands to crush their innocence that seemed to taunt him. Sangita's cry of pain goaded him as he pushed her bodily on to the bed and pulling off her panties, thrust himself into her. Sangita's scream rent the air which only seemed to excite her husband further.
He didn't give a second thought about her virginity or the pain she suffered as he got off her once he was sated and rolled over to the other side of the bed. He started snoring a few moments later. Sangita gritted her teeth, reluctant to give voice to her pain. Her husband had ignored her first cry of pain and she was too proud to scream again.
Gautam looked at Sangita's tight face. She sat across from him on the divan as she unfolded the horror that had been her wedding nig
ht. He felt shaken as he could see the scene clearly in his mind's eye and God, how he wished that he could get Giridhar alive for just a few moments so that he could have the pleasure of strangling him with his bare hands. Sangita continued the story of her marriage in an expressionless voice.
She went into the bathroom to dispassionately check the ravages to her body. The bruises the eye could see were nothing compared to the unseen ones. She took a cold shower and dressed herself in the hall. Sangita spent the rest of the night huddled on the sofa waiting for dawn to break.
She took her purse and closing the door quietly, left for her parents' home.
Tears rolled down her cheeks when she met her mother and father.
“What happened?” roared Gopal, sensitivity definitely not being one of his traits.
“Will you calm down, Gopal?” ordered his wife Radha. “Let me talk to the girl.”
Radha dragged her daughter none too gently into the kitchen and pushed her into a dining chair. “Now, tell me what happened,” she commanded, her voice stern. She didn't bother to comfort her daughter who was crying her heart out.
“Amma, please,” Sangita hiccupped as violent sobs shook her slender body. “Please let me stay here with you. I don't want to go back to...to Gi...” Sangita choked, not wanting to utter her husband's name.
“What?” screamed Radha. “Have you taken leave of your senses, you foolish girl? Your father and I have spent so much money and time on your marriage and barely after twentyfour hours you are back here. What nonsense is this?”
“Amma, please, please try to understand. I hate it there. I...” Sangita choked once again, not knowing how to tell her mother about the humiliation she had suffered.
“But, Sangita,” yelled her mother, “How can you make such a stupid decision so soon after the wedding? You and Giridhar barely know each other...”
“Exactly, Amma. And he, and he...” Sangita shuddered, at a loss for words.
Light dawned on Radha's face that there had been some problem in their physical relationship. She put a pacifying hand on Sangita's shoulder and said, “Don't be silly, Sangita. These things take time. Things will definitely get better by and by. Giridhar is such a good-looking man, educated and with a secure government job. You couldn't have asked for a better match. Women are born to adjust, Sangita, not to throw tantrums in the face of adversities. Men will be men, you know. You have to learn...”
The Madras Affair Page 14
