Authors: Sindhu S.
The Plunge (18 page)
Anjali had changed into a white
salwar-kurta
after her bath. She looked calm. Something must have changed for the better. Swapna hoped so.
Life had left a few deep scars on her soul, too. Vinod had left a permanent scar. Still, she tried to carry on with life as if the past had never existed.
Was it possible to shrug off such a tragic experience from memory so completely? Had she actually forgotten her husband? Or was she pretending for the sake of her parents and Rishi? No point in dwelling on such thoughts.
“So, how is your research coming?” Swapna asked Anjali.
Anjali nodded, meaning it was going well.
“How’s life otherwise?” She expected some amusing details. Instead, Anjali broke into sobs. Swapna felt something shatter inside her own chest. She reached for her friend’s hand.
Anjali clung to her and wept miserably. Swapna stroked her head, trying to arrange her unruly strands.
“I don’t understand him,” Anjali said, not waiting for her to ask. “He has become very difficult. He thinks I should not feel possessive about him. What do you think? Am I being jealous?”
Swapna held her tongue.
“I think it’s over for him,” Anjali went on. “Maybe he’s tired of me. Maybe he wants to blame me for the mess and end it,” she said, tears streaming.
Swapna remained quiet for a while before responding. “What about you? Anjali, is it over for you? Will you forget him, forgive him? Will you be able to do that?”
Anjali looked into her eyes. “What’s left in my life if I remove him? I can’t live without him. I know he has a family, which makes me the outsider, the other woman. But what can I do now?”
Swapna did not have an answer.
But aai did. “Anjali, you are not sure what you want,” she said.
They had somehow assumed aai was not listening to their conversation.
“You have to decide where you see him in your life. Not him,” said aai.
It was the first time she had given an opinion on Siddharth.
Anjali appeared reticent, perhaps reflecting on aai’s advice.
The retreat to the ashram was Anjali’s opportunity to see aai again. She had regarded aai as her spiritual godmother ever since she had helped Anjali overcome the difficult times following her split with Madhav.
Aai was a strong follower of the maharishi. She even introduced his philosophy to Anjali way back when the Madhav episode had ended abruptly. Anjali had practiced the meditation and yoga she had suggested to overcome the relatively lesser heartbreak.
But this time was different. Aai herself was in bad shape. A single provocation could instigate another episode of gloom.
They avoided discussing Siddharth in aai’s presence during the rest of their stay in Pollachi.
.
S
wapna’s heart sank when she saw Anjali’s sad face the next morning. She wished aai’s advice would bring some clarity to Anjali’s thoughts.
Anjali sat at her table, staring out the window at the faraway hills. The grey clouds that brushed past the hills could make anyone gloomy. Only when she stood close behind Anjali did she notice the tears. Drops fell from her sad eyes and created abstract shapes on the book Anjali was pretending to read.
Swapna placed her hand gently on her friend’s shoulder.
“What’s it, Anjali?” she asked, her voice thick with concern, “You miss him?”
Anjali raised her face towards Swapna, tears gathering afresh in her swollen eyes.
“I haven’t informed him of this trip. I should have at least switched on my mobile. I miss him so badly. I want to hear from him, now.” Anjali sounded desperate.
Her anxiety worried Swapna. “Why don’t you call him?” she suggested.
“I can’t. He has asked me not to call him when he is at home. I’ve promised him not to do it,” she said. “He’ll be angry if I call. It’s always he who calls, not me.”
Swapna looked at her in disbelief. Anjali was totally in his grip. Why did she allow him to dominate her so completely? Why did she love him so much? What for? She had become so dependent. Did it not amount to emotional slavery?
What would happen to this poor woman if he decided to break all contact with her one day, without warning?
“Tell me something, has he ever expressed an inclination to marry you some day? Have you ever asked him about such a possibility?”
“Oh no.” Anjali’s eyes gave away her panic. “I told you. He won’t leave his family for me. That was clear from the beginning, Swapna. I can’t even suggest that. He will be livid.”
“Why? What for? It’s OK for him to sleep with someone, but outrageous to consider giving the relationship a name! I only hope he respects you, Anjali. I mean, does he?”
Anjali stared at her, and then looked down.
It started drizzling again. Soft raindrops fell over the lawn, even as the sunshine chose to stay. Then it rained heavily.
Anjali sprang up from her chair and rushed out.
Swapna watched Anjali as she let the rain drench her, like a child, enjoying the moment. Swapna wished she could protect Anjali from her own foolish fantasies. She was her own worst enemy, not Siddharth.
“Anjali, don’t you realise you are on the wrong track?” Swapna asked, moving her arms over Anjali’s head, to shield her from the rain.
Anjali looked up, her eyes filled. “No, Swapna. I don’t think I have done anything wrong. I only followed my heart. I can’t be wrong. No.”
Swapna heaved a sigh. “If you are on the right path, why are you not happy? Why does Siddharth’s behaviour hurt you? Why isn’t he concerned about your future? Why does he not see that you are spoiling your future in this relationship?”
Anjali stared at Swapna, sniffling every now and then.
“Maybe that proves my love is true,” she smiled, as the rain washed away another tear.
Noticing that Anjali had her attention, Swapna began to urge her, “Get out of this mess, girl. It is doing you no good. Incurable romantics eventually end up alone. Listen, come away with me. Let’s shift to Bangalore together. Come for my sake, at least. I need help to get Rishi settled, to adjust to the new city. Besides, aai will be with us for a while. Come on, don’t think so much.”
Anjali smiled. She was silent for a few minutes. Then she said, “I can’t. I can’t just walk away from him. Let me allow this journey to take its course.”
Swapna looked at her pleadingly.
“If I ever feel even slightly convinced that I am in a loveless relationship, I will come to you, I promise.” Anjali gave her a tight hug.
Swapna realised that she, too, was standing in the middle of the rain. She smiled in amusement and held Anjali’s hand in hers. “Don’t think twice. Just come to me, any day, OK?” Her heart was heavy with concern and affection.
Swapna wanted to distract Anjali. “Did you hear the news? They have closed the boarding section of our school. Holy Saints now has only day scholars.”
Anjali looked up, her eyes wide open in surprise.
“Really?”
Swapna smiled, and let out a sigh.
“You remember Father Robin?” Anjali asked, giggling. The handsome priest had conducted mass at the convent chapel. Even non-Catholics frequented the chapel on Sundays just to watch him during the morning service.
Their gang was caught and punished for cornering the priest for a chat. Father Robin appeared amused and even obliged them by signing autographs. All the excitement ended when they saw the headmistress, Sister Lucy, staring down at them. They were caned and made to kneel down in front of her office during assembly the next day. That cured the crush.
Anjali was not a young girl anymore to be forced out of a toxic relationship. A deep sigh escaped Swapna.
.
A
doleful Swapna walked into the room. “We can’t meet the maharishi. He isn’t well. Visitors are not allowed,” she said.
That was bad news. Aai would be very disappointed. Even so, the visit to the ashram had a calming effect on all of them, which had made the trip worthwhile
Rishi looked happy even in his sleep. So did aai. Anjali, too, felt lighter after having been able to share some of her fears with Swapna and aai. She had always been more comfortable with women, except once. It was during her journalism academy days, soon after her break-up with Madhav.
Varsha, a classmate, had also been her roommate in hostel. But they were not exactly friends.
Varsha knew Anjali was seeing Madhav. She had seen him once when he came to meet her at the institute. She had seen Anjali scribble his name in her book during boring lectures that failed to keep her mind on the present.
Varsha had also realised lately that their classmate Hari was attracted to Anjali. He was considered a genius by his batch mates, and Varsha was one of his secret admirers.
One afternoon, they saw Hari waiting at the entrance of the journalism institute while they walked in. When they were close enough, he shocked Anjali with a strange request. “Anjali, I need to speak to you alone for a few minutes.”
Sensing the situation, Varsha walked away towards the library. Hari gazed into her eyes as if trying to gauge her feelings, which made Anjali nervous.
“Hi,” she said, remembering they had hardly ever interacted during the many months in the institute.
“I just wanted to say, I like you. I like you very much.”
All she could say was “Thanks” before walking off trembling, aware he was watching her with a silly smile on his face.
Eventually, they did become friends.
Hari was an amateur poet. She still preserved ‘Pebbles’, the poem he had scribbled about her. He had compared her eyes to cold pebbles in a stream. It was impossible to have thoughts of lust, for her eyes were purity manifest, he had written. They disturbed admirers with the sorrow that was trapped in them.
Anjali had laughed it off and then later wondered if it was true.
One day, Varsha asked her, “Is something wrong?”
“Nothing,” Anjali said, avoiding her stare.
“Why do you avoid love?” Varsha asked.
The question surprised Anjali. All semester she had thought Varsha had no interest in her. She sat on her bed, knees pulled towards her face. Tears gathered in her eyes. She looked pleadingly at Varsha, who had touched a fresh wound.
Varsha jumped off her bed, came over to her, and hugged her. It was the first time Varsha had expressed any affection. She asked in a very concerned voice, “What is stopping you, Anjali? When men find you attractive, why do you run away? Why do you run away from love and then brood about it?”
“I am ugly. Don’t you see that?” Anjali had felt vulnerable at that moment.
“They would hate me if I let them come near me. They will not find me attractive enough.” Her words ended in sobs.
“Says who? I think you have an attractive body,” Varsha sounded genuine.
“No, no. You don’t understand. I am attractive only as long as they don’t see my body.”
“I don’t think so. Let me see you.” Varsha sat on the bed, facing her.
She switched off the lights. In the dim light falling into the room from the corridor, Varsha unhooked Anjali’s blouse.
“You have such perfect breasts,” she whispered.
Anjali still had her doubts. Did Varsha really mean it? Were they OK to be seen by others? Strangely, she didn’t feel shy. She looked at her own body like a piece of a dinner set they were about to buy. Anjali had received compliments for her shapely hips before, even when she dressed shabbily. But she always felt inadequate about her bust.
“They are lovely,” said Varsha. “I don’t have really huge ones either. Look at mine.”
Anjali could not believe what was happening. Varsha boldly untied her nightgown and slid it off her shoulders. Her breasts were surely larger.
“Touch them.” It sounded like an order.
Anjali felt them hesitantly. They were firm, more like toned chunks. Hers were softer.
As they slept together on her bed that night, she did not resist Varsha’s kisses. Something, maybe sadness, prevented her from stopping her roommate feeling her body. Maybe it was because she was fantasising about Madhav that she allowed Varsha to fondle her. She liked the feeling of being aroused. It was an experiment with lust.
“Is this lesbianism?”
She shook off her hands the instant Varsha asked that question. It was a scary situation. She didn’t want to continue the act.
A feeling of disgust came over her. This followed a sense of relief that the realisation had come sooner, than later. One certainly got excited even in physical intimacy with a partner of the same sex. But that was not ideal or even appropriate, she learned that night. One had to fool the mind to make the body respond in such relationships. At least, that was how she felt.
The next day, Varsha had gone home on study leave, which was a huge relief.
She had tried not to think of it ever again, and avoided Varsha since that night.
Why did she have to think of it now?
Before she left Aliyaar the next morning, Anjali sat on the steps outside the cottage, lost in thoughts.
