by Ruchi Kokcha
He had never been very vocal as far as matters of the heart were concerned. But was this really a matter of his heart or was it a device of his mind? Every binary was being dissolved as he delved deeper and deeper into the waters of Ananki’s self. He felt a strange giddiness overtaking him, making him want to expel the words necessary for the bigger picture.
‘Ananki, I want you to forgive me for what I just did. You don’t know this, but ever since I saw you, I have felt a deep metaphysical connect. No matter how much I try to stay within the limits of my professional ethics, the vibes that emanate from you make me want to challenge every bar set between you and me. I know you don’t really care about me. For you I might not even exist beyond these few hours of our meetings, but for me these moments have given birth to a craving for that self of yours that is untarnished by this physical world.’
He paused out of sheer astonishment at his own words.
Why had they never come to his aid when he had actually needed them, when he was facing failed relationships one after another? What had made him declare love in such an exquisite manner when he was actually repulsed at the thought of loving her?
He stood up immediately, ready to leave, to come back later to continue this dangerous game, but she clutched his hand and pulled him back to her. She held him tightly for a long time, or perhaps it seemed longer to Avik, who felt as if he was holding an alternative universe in his arms.
He had only hoped that he would be successful in winning her over, but that hope was now coming true. Terror struck him, numbing his mind, which at present was totally under her control. It was not his mind that made him lift his hand to her head but her mind that coerced his to stroke her hair and soothe her: the modern Odysseus under a perfect Calypso spell whose ‘being’ now belonged not to him but to her.
She reclined against his chest while he stroked her tresses and lifted her face to read the expression in his eyes – surrender. She widened her lips into a feeble smile and gave him a small peck on his lips, which smiled back at the gesture.
Perhaps the deed is done. Perhaps I will get what I came for after all. Perhaps she now likes me. No! She really does like me; why else would she bestow upon me a token of her affection? This is the time. Thoughts of success ran through Avik’s mind.
He was sure he would get the real Kalki Rajput story from her own daughter, who now trusted him completely. He thought it would be best to take things to the next level, before she changed her mind.
‘Ananki, you are the sole ruler of both my conscious and subconscious mind. No other woman has left a mark upon me as you have. But then, I feel I still do not know you. The only image I have of you is the one I have captured from behind these bars. I want you to remove them and show me your real self, which I believe is much more beautiful than anything I can imagine,’ Avik said, planting a kiss on her curls that smelt like petrichor.
This time her smile could be seen from ear to ear. He wanted to know her. The question was which self she would show him.
She had to give him something. It was important that she reciprocate his ‘love’ by sharing a part of her self. Only a part, though. His request, however, made her chuckle.
‘What is so funny?’ he asked.
‘Nothing. I just remembered something I wrote a long time ago,’ she replied, picking up her diary.
‘What is it? Can I have the honour of listening to it?’
‘Here, read this,’ Annaki said, finding the excerpt and handing her diary to him. ‘I wrote it when Da told me that he would never be able to understand me. He was perhaps the only one who was honest enough to admit this universal failure.’
He took the diary from her and read.
I smile at people who say they know me or want to know me. To know me a little, one needs to stay attuned to my actions. To know me partially, one needs to keep in constant touch with my words. To know me fully, one needs to become unified with my ideas. But my ideas are not for the world to understand, and hence, neither is my self.
Her words triggered a series of questions in his mind.
‘Does a person have only one self or is one’s personality made up of a number of different selves? What do you think? Is the self a static entity or does it keep evolving through various life experiences?’ he asked her as he stood up and walked towards the door.
‘I would put it in a better way. Our self comprises a number of structural elements in any given moment of experience. The play of these elements forms the basis of our experience,’ Ananki replied, holding the door that had been left open.
‘What are these elements that comprise the self?’ he probed further, looking at her, wondering if the elements that comprised her self were the same as those that comprised his self.
‘The elements are thoughts, feelings, self-concept, self-sense and recognition. In any given experience, the intensity, duration and frequency of these elements define the self. You can google them for details. Try reading phenomenology,’ Ananki smiled at him as she said this.
Ananki promised Avik a glimpse into her self, but asked him to come the next day. Avik requested her to tell him her complete story now itself, as he knew he might have to wait longer for Dr Neerja to be absent from the NGO. He knew this sneaking into her cell might not work for long, as someone might inform Dr Neerja and then it would be over for him. But he had no choice. He stepped out of the cell and turned towards her to bid her goodbye.
‘Today we should let these newly discovered feelings settle down,’ she said as she closed the door between them.
He kissed her forehead before turning to leave.
Time certainly was required. Not for matters of the heart, however, but for the machinations of the mind, to decide how much of her self should be revealed to him. Would she remain the same after she disclosed the essence that formed her being? Would her self remain the same tomorrow or would it change overnight? Every second every self changes, physiologically and psychologically. The environment changes our body, circumstances change the way we think. Man is really a relative being. What is he on his own? Nothing. It is this ‘nothing’ that defines him in isolation.
From the many negations that defined Ananki, she picked the most convincing one to narrate to him the following day. However, narration had its limitations – questions, for example. Questioning would mean challenging the reality she presented before him. She did not want multiple perspectives arising due to a dialogic narrative. The best would be to not allow him a different interpretation to the one she would put forth; she had the entire night, along with the sheets of paper and the pen she held in her hands after a long time.
Luckily, Dr Bhalla’s ill health required Dr Neerja to stay with him at home. Avik got the chance that he needed so much. He came a bit earlier than usual. He was curious. He was going to know the unknown. As a token of thanks he brought flowers for her. She smiled, noticing the pink roses he carried, and came forward to receive them. As Avik gave her the flowers, the thought flashed through his mind that their meeting was a date of sorts, only the setting was a bit inappropriate.
‘I would like to have dinner with you someday,’ he whispered.
She giggled, telling him that it might be too much to ask from someone in her circumstances.
‘I find the idea of going out to eat very stupid,’ she told him.
‘And why do you find it to be stupid?’ he asked.
‘I find it stupid because I have no interest in filling up my body. I want more from a person than just dinner and flowers and material gifts. I want music and poetry, or a close dance in dim light,’ she replied, wrapping her arms around his neck.
‘I will try and write a poem for you, if that would make you happy. But why don’t you recite one of your poems to me?’ Avik said, looking into her eyes. He noticed for the first time how long her eyelashes were.
‘I will introduce you to the world of my poetry when the time is right, when I feel that you are ready to read and immerse yourself i
n it,’ Ananki replied.
‘Is there anything I will be able to know about you?’
‘Yes, you will know the story that you came for,’ she said, handing him several sheets of paper. ‘Sit here with me and read this. This is all I could manage. Read it aloud, please.’
Avik took the sheets from her, sat on the floor just beneath the dim light bulb and started reading out loud.
14
The grey in his hair made him look more appealing than ever. She, on the other hand, had lost most of her charm. Her face had wrinkled, her breasts sagged. The stretch marks and flab were prominent whenever she wore a saree. But he still loved her, loved her with all her imperfections, and loved her for all her imperfections. It was something that would never change, something that tortured me every single second of my life.
At night when he closed the door of their bedroom, my mind would suffer as if it was being roasted over the eternal flames of hell. His oblivion stood as a one-way mirror between us, he never cared to see my passion for him through it, whereas I watched every single move of his. The more I saw, the more I burned myself. Someone rightly said, ‘Ignorance is bliss.’ Till the time I was oblivious to the complications of this triangle, my life was simple. But then simplicity was not what I chose for myself.
Dad’s fiftieth birthday was approaching. He did not want a party, but a small family celebration, so despite her wishes my mother instructed the cook to prepare dinner at home. I had baked a cake for him and wanted him to cut it at midnight. It was a surprise. I had not even involved Priyanka in it. I wanted to be the sole owner of the smile it would bring to his face. As far back as I could remember, Mom had never cooked anything for him. She was not made for such chores. How little she knew him. How could she know him when I did?
I knew how much he cherished such acts of affection. But when I took my piece of affection to him, I found him showering his on his useless lovely wife, my mother. Unfortunately, I had to be a witness to their act. There he was, mounted on top of her while I stood behind the half-closed door. As I watched, I became more interested in observing her than him. He was fabulous. She, on the other hand, looked like a lump of flesh withstanding the force of her husband who, by his vigour, seemed half her age.
Initially I thought of leaving my present at the door, but then he would know that I had been there. I did not want that, at least not for the time being. I went to their door again the night after to check if it was open. Yes it was. It became regular for me to visit their room and watch them. The more I saw him, the more I wanted to be in her place. Every day my mind would think of ways in which I could take her place. The sinner in me started to hope for it to happen someday. And then my hope came true. One day I got my chance. Mom had to go away on an urgent business trip. Dad was in Paris and was returning that night after a month. She asked me to tell Dad, since his phone was not reachable. Priyanka had gone on a school trip. It was my day (night).
I wore her red nightgown. When I looked in the mirror I could not believe it was me. I was not lean like I am today. I was full-figured and looked very sexy in that nightgown, only I could not let him ‘see’ me in it. I was dancing with joy at the thought of what the night might bring when I heard his car. I quickly switched the lights off and slid under the blanket. I could hear his footsteps and my heart started thumping in nervousness. What if I was caught? That day I realized that sanity makes you a coward while madness gives you courage. My madness for him gave me the courage to go beyond every limit society has set for us.
The moment he entered the room I could tell from his gait that he was drunk, which made me less nervous. He fell into the bed beside me and was about to pass out when I made my move. I could not let the opportunity go to waste so I started caressing him. At first he was taken aback. I stopped to allow him to follow suit. Less was more. Had I continued, he would have known that it was not his wife beside him that night. I had charged him just enough to take me on. I had to receive all that he offered, silently, just like her. I wanted to shriek, moan like a mad bitch while he stroked me, but I did not. I kept it all inside, buried it deep within myself and left early in the morning.
I fell asleep with a great sense of accomplishment but woke up with a sense of loss. He had made love to me thinking I was her. It was important for me to let him know it was me. There was no end to my mind’s wants. When I did not have him, all I wanted was to lie with him; when that happened, I could not digest the fact that he did not know it was me he had made love to. I should have been happy about it, even waited for more such opportunities, but my madness would not let me. I was adamant that he know it had been me and not his wife. I wrote it all in a letter and posted it to our address. I wanted to use last night’s act as the means of their separation.
Ananki made him pause at this point, reached for her diary and took out a letter. It appeared old and crumpled. She unfolded it and read it out to him.
Da.
For eighteen years, if I have done anything apart from surviving in this closeted world of mine, it has been to love you with all my mind and spirit. Last night was very special to me. I do not regret the path I chose to reach you. As they say, all is fair in love and war. Moreover, treachery and cunning are not new to a woman’s vocabulary. I am writing this letter to let you know how fascinated by you I have always been and despite your indifference towards me, I did have you last night. When you slept in my arms after consummating our holy bond, I felt I had attained everything I had ever desired. Did you mistake me for her or did you realize it was me beneath you? Well, if you don’t know, it was me whom you pierced last night, not her. You can never free yourself from this act of love, caught with me in this mirrored closet, and I shall keep you locked with me inside it forever. It is an infinite universe with innumerable alternative realities for you to chose from, one behind the other. I now stand in this vast unfathomed space, touched by you, kissed by you and loved by you. You will think of me as the betrayer and I would think the same of you, but that will not change what has already happened. I know you cannot love anyone else till your beautiful old wife breathes, but the truth of last night shall prevail forever. Last night you betrayed her and yourself. All I need to know now is when you will bring her face-to-face with it. Or do you want me to do it?
Yours only
A.
Avik wanted to ask her something but she hushed him, telling him to finish reading without interruptions. He nodded and carried on.
Somehow Da had no time to read his mail in the morning before he left for his office and instead of him the letter reached the hands of my mom. She was infuriated. Luckily, I had not typed my name, just my initial and she, stupid as she is, could never imagine it was me who was behind it. She thought Da was having an extra marital affair and kept brooding over it all day, not calling him even once, so that she could confront him face-to-face and read his expressions on being caught.
As soon as he came home that evening, he was served with questions right at the door. Shouting at the top of her voice, she asked him who he was sleeping with. He told her again and again that he was not sleeping with anyone, but she would not listen to him. I had seen them fighting many times before, but this time her tone was different, very unusual. She was deeply hurt. He was no longer interested in her. Without seeking an explanation she yelled at him without pause. He was aghast at her words and had nothing more to say, for she was adamant in her disbelief. After all those years of faithful worship, he got suspicion in return. His eyes fell on the paper she had been holding all that while; he pulled it from her grasp and read it.
‘Oh, so you have faith in a random letter and not in me, who has never looked upon any woman except you, who has never thought of any woman except you, who has never cared for any woman except you. All these years it is you whom I have loved, through thick and thin, and this is what I get in return? You believe this crap and not me. Fantastic! It shows how much faith you have in this marriage. If you really think it to be tr
ue, you can do whatever you want and I will accept it. I have nothing more to say.’
As he said this, tears rolled down his cheeks, making my mother’s tender heart melt and she hugged him. I had failed. Not only had I failed to pull them apart, I had also brought tears to him, a greater failure than the unsuccessful separation. I could not sleep for nights after that incident. Round the clock my mind invented ways to tear their beautiful marriage apart.
I could not stand the thought of them happily cuddling in their bed every night. I was looking for the right opportunity. I thought of writing her a letter, this time signing my full name.
Mom,
I have nothing to say to you except a simple fact of my life: I love your husband. The letter you found was written by me.
Ananki Rajput’
On reading it, the first thing she did was to grab me by the throat. I smiled. What else could I do? My smile provoked her all the more. She grabbed my hair and started pulling me towards the gate of our house.
‘What did you do with him, you shameless girl?’ she shouted.
‘Everything,’ I replied as I was being dragged.
‘Everything? Did you sleep with him?’
‘You are old enough to understand what “everything” means. I don’t have to elaborate every single detail of our lovemaking,’ I said, holding my hair to ease the pain from the pulling.
She stopped and slapped me.
‘When did you do it?’ she howled.
‘When you had gone for your business trip,’ I said, looking at her.
‘Did he know it was you?’
She had to ask me at least four times before I could reply.
‘I don’t know,’ was all I could say.
She did not ask any further questions. All she wanted was to throw me out of the house. I stood there silently, smiling at her. My smile offended her. She put me in her car and drove. Drove like a madwoman. She wanted to know more about that night, my night. She insisted on every detail. I just smiled. She could not handle it. I realized that she was driving far above the speed limit. We were racing across a bridge when suddenly she turned the steering wheel to the extreme left.
