The Plunge (19 page)

Aai walked towards her, wrapping a shawl around her shoulders. She sat near Anjali. When Anjali looked up, she smiled. Aai had grown old by many years since they had last met. She had white strands in her hair on top of her head and at the temples. But she still looked graceful.

They started discussing Rishi, but soon shifted to Swapna. Aai was very proud of her daughter. Swapna’s maturity made her dignified even in tragedy.

Their conversation drifted to love. Anjali sensed aai’s worry for her.

“Love is important, but be sure it is really love,” aai said. “It’s a great emotion, but tricky. It’s very easy to get carried away by the energy it generates and lose direction. And, that’s dangerous.”

That dragged Siddharth into her mind. Was it such a crime to feel jealous when he mentioned other women? Why did he have to brag about the “pretty young things” in his office unless it was to irritate her? It had lately become a habit with him.

She had learned to trust him and was clear about her place in his life until a few weeks ago.

Surely he was behaving differently. Something had changed. Or was she just imagining it, as he said? Why was she feeling so insecure about their relationship?

Anjali hugged aai, holding onto her for a while.

“Take care, Anjali. Remember us when you miss home. Trust the divine. He will guide you, if you remain trusting.”

The words played in her mind all through her journey back to Shimla.

.

23
    

CHAPTER

Turbulence

A
njali walked into the parlour of the institute with a strange calmness on her face. It contrasted with the gloomy November sky.

Siddharth looked intently at Anjali’s face, trying to figure out if she was still mad at him. She appeared at peace with herself.

She had not informed him of her Pollachi trip. He was worried, wondering where she was for two weeks. However, after many emails during the past week, she was back in his life.

Still there was the initial hesitation, since they were meeting after two months: a huge gap since she had relocated to Shimla. Only three months were left before her project was completed, unless she decided to try for an extension, for another year. But would she?

Nine months since Anjali had come to live in Shimla, she appeared to have settled into her new life.

He knew that the disappearing act was her revenge for his skipped visits for over a month. She had ignored his phone calls and messages as a protest before packing off to an ashram with friends.

Anjali was not smiling.

“Where to?” he asked, hesitantly.

“I haven’t seen the hot springs yet,” she said.

He had been to Tattapani a few times with his family. The famed sulphur springs on the banks of Sutlej river were a sixty-kilometre drive from town.

As he steered along the hilly road that snaked through forests, Anjali sighed, eyes fixed on the mountain range on the left. The sky was overcast. Traders at the roadside shops looked expectantly at passing vehicles, in anticipation that some people would stop for food or mineral water.

They reached the spot by evening, stopping for tea. He booked a room at the guesthouse close to the riverbank.

They had not spoken much since they met that morning. She remained withdrawn even as they walked to the restaurant and back. As they walked towards the riverbank, he broke the silence.

“Are you feeling OK?”

She nodded with a hint of smile, which was a huge relief.

Still, she behaved like a stranger. Anjali was not her true self at that moment. Something was bothering her. It would be foolish to open the topic and risk another tiff. It would spoil yet another weekend. Their last meeting had ended in disaster.

Sunaina was one of his old love interests. But he had learned not to admit this to Anjali.

It was a mistake to have provoked jealousy in Anjali a few times in the past by mentioning other women.

Once when he had joked about a colleague, saying, “Many of us were heartbroken when she announced her wedding,” Anjali looked enraged.

He was aware of Anjali’s total devotion to him. Her emotions were transparent: happiness, anger, jealousy, fear, and love were all discernible when they crossed her features. Her mannerisms made her special. He could sit watching her forever.

What was she to him? What did their relationship mean to him? A fling?

He had a perfect life: a loving wife, adorable kids, a respectable job, and now romance. Anjali had been the missing bit in his life, something he had not realised until he met her. She had introduced him to passion of a different kind, a dicey kind.

Anjali was so unlike Chandni.

Chandni was the typical homemaker, meticulous. She planned everything, such as where the newspapers were to be stacked or which dish ought to be prepared on a certain day.

She had her rules about lovemaking, too: never during the day, never with the lights on, never when there were guests around. It killed the excitement. Of late, it was more of a duty, something she did for his sake, a favour or an obligation.

Anjali was exactly the opposite, perpetually inclined towards love. She said her body and mind responded only to his touch. She said even his voice excited her. He liked that admission. It made him feel young and dashing.

Anjali was impulsive. She got upset easily, lost her temper without warning, and forgave just as quickly.

Now, sitting beside him, she looked peaceful. Anjali was staring at the Sutlej that flowed quietly a little away from them. The sunlight fell evenly across the clear water as it gurgled down with a strange indifference.

“Those are the sulphur springs,” Siddharth said, pointing at the water jets on the pebbly shore.

“The water is hot, careful,” he called out as she kicked off her brown canvas shoes and dipped her feet in the water from the springs.

“Oh! So hot,” she recoiled with a mild twitch, only to try it again.

“It’s amazing,” she called out to him, as he sat watching her on one of the grey round rocks that lined the riverbank.

The water of the springs was boiling hot near the source, but turned lukewarm after it trickled into the cold river. She bent over and washed her face with the cooler water. He knew the feel of it, a bit like saturated saltwater, thick to the touch and grainy on the skin.

“Nature is full of miracles, isn’t it?”

Siddharth nodded, gladdened by her excited grin. He watched Anjali transform into a schoolgirl. The coldness she had carried along from Shimla seemed to have vanished. She dipped her feet in the water from the springs and then splashed into the cold river water for relief, shifting between the two, laughing.

Siddharth waited there like a forgotten parcel.

When she finally looked at him, he noticed a shy smile, as if she were suddenly aware of her indulgence.

“It’s really fun. Come on, try it,” she called out.

He walked over to her and dipped his feet in the water. He felt instantly refreshed.

“Shall we sit on those?” she asked, pointing to the flat rocks at a distance. The group of youngsters who had been occupying the place had left.

They walked along the bank towards the rocks. She picked up a few pebbles, taking care not to collect two of the same kind. They would be part of her precious collection of keepsakes, he knew.

Water from the drain of a nearby restaurant flowed into a gully beside the river.

“Why is it allowed?” Anjali looked towards the restaurant, lips pulled to a side in irritation.

“I’ll ask a colleague at the
Tribune
to do a story,” he said. The smile returned to her face.

Anjali clutched his arm as they sat there, watching the tranquil river flow over the rocky riverbed. It was the first time she had touched him since they had greeted each other that morning. He hugged her back and held her hand, staring at the river as it flowed cheerfully. The Sutlej soothed the spirits.

“You look adorable when you are lost in thought,” he said.

Anjali leaned in even closer.

“I missed you terribly,” he said. “Did you miss me?”

She rested her head on his shoulder, holding his arm tighter.

“I want to ask you something, Siddh.”

He sat upright, letting go of her hand, feeling edgy.

“It’s just a supposition. In case Chandni comes to hear about us, would she believe it?”

“Hah!” He shrugged his shoulders, raised his brows to indicate the stupidity of such a thought. “She won’t hear. And even if she does by some weird chance, I don’t think she will believe it. She knows me well.”

Anjali looked at him, her face turning pale.

“I mean we need not fear such a thing. She knows I am fully committed to her.”

“You don’t consider our relationship a mistake, do you, Siddh?” Her voice broke as she completed the question.

“Anjali, please, don’t twist my words. I was only trying to answer your supposition. What am I to reply? You expect me to say that she would be delighted? Or that she would be angry and leave me? I don’t even wish to think on those lines.

“You know how important my family is to me, don’t you? What you probably don’t know is what a wonderful person Chandni is. I wish I could introduce her to you,” Siddharth went on, placing his hand on her arm.

Anjali pushed it away. His attempt to dilute the effect of his words with a comforting gesture failed. Her face flushed red as if the hot springs instead of blood were rushing through her veins. He watched her shudder, then tremble. Should he comfort her with a lie? That would only give her false hope and create more problems for him in future.

They remained quiet for a while, listening to the river gurgle over the pebbly riverbed.

“OK, what if she asks you not to meet me, to cut off all relations with me?”

He wiped beads of perspiration from his forehead with his handkerchief.

“Anjali, Anjali…Why do you want to spoil another weekend discussing possibilities? It’s absurd. Forget it. Let’s cross that bridge when we come to it.”

He grabbed her closer. She pushed him away.

“I must know this, Siddh. I must. Would you go away from my life, just like that? You would?”

“How can you even imagine such things? You are a part of my life, a very important part. We will be together as long as I am alive. But you must remember that Chandni is my wife, the mother of my sons. I made a commitment to her twenty years back, one I must keep. I would want to keep it. That’s why I keep telling you that we must be more careful. I would rather she heard nothing about you.”

Anjali stared hard at the river. She would not look at him.

“You OK?” Siddharth asked after a while.

Anjali merely shifted her gaze to the little pool near her feet.

She could not blame him. He had not forced her into a relationship. She had, in her right senses and willingly, chosen to be with him. Nothing had changed during the past year, except that Anjali was more possessive now. She remained insecure, irritable, and easily upset most of the time. And they had frequent tiffs. He turned to look at her. Anjali was staring at the water with a cheerless expression.

“Are you angry with me?” His fear changed to concern.

She shook her head and smiled at him with sad eyes, moving closer.

“Shall we go? I must lie down,” she said.

Back in the room, Anjali looked tired. He watched her recline with her eyes closed, tears trickling down her cheeks.

She woke up close to sunset. Siddharth was looking at the river from the balcony. She walked towards him and stood leaning against him, her head against his shoulder, as the river shimmered under the fading sun.

The water flowed rhythmically, as if it were set on a timer. The hot springs on the fringes quietly joined the cold river water, blending into one.

“Why did these springs flow into the river and lose their character?” Anjali wondered aloud. “Did they really not have a choice?”

“Neither do we,” he said, locking her into a tight embrace.

She smiled and clung to him.

“You were fast asleep,” he said. “I didn’t want to disturb you.”

“Shall we go down to the river?” she asked, stretching her arms. “I’ll get ready. But I must eat something first. I am terribly hungry.”

She looked cheerful when they returned to the riverside. He, too, felt relaxed.

They watched the moon come up over the quiet river. The few remaining tourists were heading to their cars for their drive back to town. Siddharth and Anjali were the only ones booked into the guesthouse for the night.

Anjali surprised him with a tight hug the instant they entered the room. She rarely expressed affection so intensely. She played a passive partner until they neared the end of their lovemaking.

Siddharth smiled. Anjali was behaving like a wife for the first time. It was a pleasant change.

She kissed him on the lips, her teeth launching an attack. He felt excited at the clicking sound when her teeth locked against his for a second. She almost drove him into the huge chair and settled on his lap. She guided his mouth towards her neck, shoulders, and farther down, moving her impatient hands over his neck and back. She would not let him stop or do it his way. She wouldn’t let him move to the bed.