But I don’t see any other way out.

I can’t deal with this stress any longer, this self doubt.

What if I was wrong, what if I WAS the bad guy?

What if you were right, what if you were right about me never being able to find someone if I left you?

What if you WERE the one and I couldn’t realize it?

What if I pushed you away by expecting you to spend time with me?

What if I offended you by wanting to know where you were, what you were planning to do for the day?

All these questions. All this stress. I can’t take it any longer. I need relief from this pain. I have to do this. Maybe then, you would no longer be in my memories. I have to do this.

My thoughts are interrupted by the cab driver’s voice. “We’re here.” he says.

I get out, pay him, turn around and start walking. It’s a cold night after the rains. I walk towards the entrance of the building. The glass door feels cold on my palms as I push it open. There’s light music being played and as I look around, I see him. I go over to him and ask, “Ranjith, right?”

To which he responds “Yes, have a seat… You look nice… So, shall we order something?”

“Yes, I would love some coffee” I say to him.

And say to myself “I had to do this”.

Notes:

• This piece was shared by Mujeebur Rahman at Orinam’s 49th Quilt session on Nov 24, 2019, in Chennai.
• Image credits: Broken Heart symbol by Nevit Dilmen. Wikimedia Commons. 2009. Licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 Unported license.

Sahil Sood’s A Thousand Dreams Within Me Softly Burn prompts readers to ponder upon the reason for reading literature and watching films. Some works of art reflect a particular philosophy of life, which create their own reality, and reflect an intermix of emotions and desires that inhabit one’s world. Their underlying urge is to share the diverse gene pool of human experience.

The book unravels the delightful, yet thorny relationship between Saaransh and Akshay. These two young men in Chandigarh have a romantic rendezvous one late evening and begin their journey together. What is it that keeps these two men together? Whether it is love, care, lust, grief, hatred, belonging or remembrance—all these notions stem from the intrinsic need to connect with the other, perhaps with the hope of merging one’s very self into the other. Yet, despite the desire to be together, the journey of love is not that easy. Byron’s quote, “Love will find a way through paths where wolves fear to prey,” evoked in the book, reflects the strength of love and the myriad ways that love continues to drive the characters within this book.

In the book there are two narratives that unfold, along with a central essay based on the voyage through literature and cinema that evokes the voices of several writers that stir our appreciation for art. For a reader who might be uninitiated to the Thumri form of Hindustani Classical Music, or has not listened to ‘Jise Tu Qubool Kar Le’ in Devdas (1955) or Nina Simone’s ‘I Loves You Porgy,’ playing these online renditions may offer a singular experience while reading the book. The non-linear narrative adds an interesting style to the plot, making the reader peel different layers of an onion blub, seemingly muddling things up, yet seamlessly connecting each layer at its stem.

Along with the queer theme, Sahil Sood also queers the text’s structure and narrative technique, through its pictures, lyrics, letters, and essays. The suspense of a detective novel — of the mysterious ‘Dearest’ and ‘Me’ in the letters — is kept until the end. Seemingly post-structuralist in form, the text — where eight letters, sandwiched between seven chapters of Siddharth’s manuscript — might offer different readings to different readers. The personal letters included are actually poetic. Furthermore, they build on where you are in the story and give more insight into the mind of the protagonist.

Another beautiful aspect of A Thousand Dreams Within Me Softly Burn is its ability to capture the vulnerability and transcendence of the human condition. Whether it’s about Jacky, the evil dog that had a growing large patch of decaying skin, or Ami Azan, the impious lady who spent years of her life in disgrace confined to a solitary apartment, the book strikes a chord of the inner melody, waiting to find itself.

Then one day Ami Azan stepped out at dawn. She heard a mystifying aural symphony in the air. She took out her prayer mat and started walking barefoot towards the masjid. Her hair streamed behind her as she walked leaning on a jagged wooden stick. The pewter sky smiled at her. The sound of Imam offering prayers beckoned to her. Naive birds awakened by the first light of dawn flapped their silver wings furiously. She spread her mat on the pristine floor, wrapped the hijab around her head, and with hands joined in worship started murmuring fervent prayers to Allah. Her fears metamorphosed into tears of gratitude. She held her breasts in delight. She looked at the sky and blinked with wonder. A new feeling was thus born in the history of time.

Fiction on gay relationships in contemporary Indian writing is hard to find. It’s a subject we are uncomfortable writing about, precisely because we have mixed feelings about it. When we do chance upon such books, we are either skeptical or regard them as exceptions. This heart-moving book deals with the subject in a frank, sympathetic, and intimate style, and is likely to win over many unwilling mindsets. Sahil Sood has paved the way for a fresh outlook on the nature of gay relationships in the queer genre, which, for most, is synonymous with mushiness, longing, death and loss.

Title: A Thousand Dreams Within Me Softly Burn
Author: Sahil Sood
Year of publication: 2017
Paperback: 122 pages
Publisher: CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform; 1 edition (27 January 2017)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 1541165020
ISBN-13: 978-1541165021

“Hi! Mind if I sit here?”

Aarav looked up from the books he was pulling out of his backpack. A pleasant-faced boy stood at the other side of the two-seater bench in the classroom. He was about Aarav’s size and build, and his eyes hinted at hidden humour.

Aarav smiled. “No, not at all. Go ahead.” He took his backpack off the bench, and the boy sat down.

“Thanks. My name’s Ishaan, by the way,” the boy said as he opened his own backpack. “From City College. You?”

“Aarav. Model Junior College. Heard a lot about this place, so here I am!”

They grinned at each other, sensing instant rapport.

It was first day of college at the National Technology Institute, or NTI. They were both enrolled in the mechanical engineering program. Aarav now remarked, as they looked around the room at their other classmates, “You know the problem with mech? No girls, yaar. Girls don’t go for mech; mostly computer science. What a pain!”

“Really?” Ishaan murmured. “Maybe it’s not such a bad thing. Keeps our mind on studies and all that, you know.”

“You’re joking, right? Four years without girls—no joking matter, yaar…”

The teacher walked in just then, and the students greeted him and fell silent as they opened their new books.

—

The following months saw Aarav and Ishaan enjoying much time together. Their shared interests included debating, and they thrilled in battling it out on opposite teams, tossing a coin to decide who got to choose sides first, and continuing with their debate long after the event with outlandish arguments and much laughter.

Aarav also applied his free time in finding ways to meet new girls on and off campus. He would brag to Ishaan that he could walk up to any girl and get her phone number and a date within five minutes. His evenings were often spent over coffee with his latest conquest. It baffled him that Ishaan did not display the same enthusiasm in this.

“Yaar, what’s your problem exactly? I’m doing all the hard work with these girls, and you’re just tooling around with your textbooks! Come on, Ishaan. You have no idea how many hot girls are begging me for your introduction. They think you’re cute, yaar! Crazy, eh?  So, take your pick from the long waiting list, and let’s do some double dating; you know, day trips on weekends, and so forth. What do you say?”

Ishaan would reply vaguely, with a smile, “You go ahead, yaar. I’d rather wait for the right one. And, I have too many other things to do right now, anyway.”

Aarav would walk away shaking his head in disgust. “Something wrong with you, man. Your life’s wasted. Totally wasted.”

“I know. Everybody tells me that. Catch you later, Aarav.”

—

Two years passed by pleasantly. Aarav and Ishaan passed their long vacations happily in their home towns, keeping in touch over the phone. Some time before start of the new term, Aarav offered an interesting piece of information: his younger brother, Arnav, would be joining their college for his first year in the computer science program. “I’m really excited, yaar. We’re actually very close, and I can keep an eye on him now; make sure he’s not distracted by girls and all that, by gently taking them off his hands…”

“Hahahaha! You’ll never change, yaar. I look forward to meeting Arnav.”

“Actually, I’m just kidding about the girls, yaar. Arnav is very seedha-saadha; very reserved around girls, though they all fall for him. In fact, he reminds me of you a lot! Good technique, though: being standoffish makes you more in demand with the girls, right? I must try it too.”

“Yea, yea, I can see you being standoffish—for all of five seconds. Good luck with that!”

“Hahahaha! You know me too well, yaar. Okay, see you in college soon. I can’t wait to get back.”

—

The campus was boisterous on the morning of the first day back in college, with everyone catching up with everyone else.

“Ishaan!” Ishaan looked around to see Aarav jostling his way towards him through the crowd of milling students, followed closely by another boy. Aarav and Ishaan embraced, overjoyed at meeting again after the long break. “Ishaan, meet my brother, Arnav. Yeah, I know—Aarav and Arnav. I tell you, people often get our names mixed up, so I prefer to call us A-1 and A-2. Naturally I’m the A-1, as you can guess. A-2 bete, say ‘hi’ to Ishaan, my best friend.”

“Hi, Ishaan! I’m Arnav, but you can call me Arnie if you like. Bhaiya says A-2 just to annoy me. Actually, he’s jealous; he wishes his name had been Arnie—so cool, isn’t it? But, he can be A-1; that name well suits his great modesty!”

Ishaan laughed. “Hi, Arnie! Nice to meet you after all the good things I’ve heard about you from Aarav…I mean, A-1. Hope you like it here. We certainly do.”

“Thanks, Ishaan,” Arnie grinned. “I’m sure we’ll be seeing more of each other too.” He flexed his biceps and looked at Ishaan with what passed for a steely glint in his eyes, as he mimicked in a deep voice, “I’ll be back!”

“Hey, hey, hey, hey! Arnie, what’s going on?!” Aarav exclaimed. “I’ve never seen you gabbing so freely with anyone before at first meeting. But you’ve hit it off solidly with Ishaan, yaar. Wah re wah!”

It looked almost as if Arnie blushed.

—

The third year was going well. Aarav occupied himself in foraging among the new batch of girls, many of them being Arnie’s classmates in computer science. Ishaan, on the other hand, found himself getting along very well with Arnie; they somehow happened to keep running into each other in their free times, almost as if it were planned.

These frequent meetups did not escape Aarav’s notice, and he expressed his surprise: “Ishaan, you don’t seem to have much time for me these days, yaar. How come I always see you with Arnie? What do you guys talk about, anyway? Some of the girls have been asking me why my brother is never to be found. What’s going on, yaar?”

“Nothing special, Aarav. We just happen to bump into each other now and then; after all, it’s not such a big campus. But you’re always around girls, anyway, so I have to keep myself busy too, right?” Even to Ishaan that sounded rather lame. Aarav looked bemused, but left it at that.

—

It was a Sunday afternoon, more than halfway through the year. Aarav found himself without any plans for that particular day; and Arnie was also nowhere to be found. On an impulse he rang up Ishaan to see if they could meet up; but Ishaan’s phone was turned off. He then tried Arnie’s phone, but that seemed unreachable too. Strange!

Wanting to just get out of the house, Aarav decided to head for the multiplex mall by himself; he had some shopping to do, anyway. Reaching there, he sauntered around for a while, browsing through the window displays to try to find something interesting. Suddenly, he spotted familiar faces moving through the crowds thronging the mall. Stopping to look closer, he realised it was Arnie—with Ishaan! What were they doing here, together? They were laughing and talking animatedly—about what? He followed them slowly, staying out of sight. They stopped at the cinemas. He saw Ishaan going to the ticket counter and picking up tickets, presumably for the movie showing that day—why would they want to watch that reputedly boring movie?

As Ishaan and Arnie entered the movie theatre, Aarav impulsively walked over to the ticketing counter and got himself a ticket, and entered the hall a little later. It was dark inside, and he waited for his eyes to adjust. The movie was about to start, but the theatre was practically empty. He peered around, looking for Ishaan and Arnie, and found them—sitting right at the back, to one side. He at first thought of joining them, then decided against it. But he moved to a seat from where he could keep an eye on them without being noticed. He was puzzled. Why hadn’t they invited him too? He could have suggested a much better movie, couldn’t he?

The movie started. As expected, it was unbearable: a mindless blood-and-gore fest with no pretence at any storyline whatsoever. Aarav fidgeted in his seat and wondered how Ishaan and Arnie were taking it. He turned to look in their direction. It took him a few moments to comprehend what he was seeing. The flickering lights from the fast action on the screen made for poor visibility. But that could not quite conceal the fact that they had their arms around each other, their faces touching. Ishaan and Arnie were kissing and cuddling in the dark!

Aarav sat as if transfixed, unable to turn away. It felt surreal—was he watching a movie, or was he acting out a bit role in one, with the main characters sitting back there? He could feel himself breaking out in cold sweat. Mental images from the past several months flashed through his mind like photos being displayed in random shuffle mode: Ishaan and Arnie’s lack of romantic interest in girls; the two of them being together all the time; their recurring and unexplained disappearances…

“They’re gay!” It all clicked suddenly. “They’re both gay. My brother, too. Or, did Ishaan seduce him? Just look at them kissing and cuddling shamelessly in public! What should I do now?” Everything he had ever heard about gay people flooded his mind. “Animal sex lover”? He had never seen Arnie show interest in animals. What about babies? Somehow he could not imagine that either. Not Arnie, surely?

Not knowing what to do, he sat confusedly through the rest of the movie, looking back every now and then, his mind in raging turmoil. How had he missed all the signs? Because he had been too busy chasing girls; he had been too self-absorbed to realise that his best friend and his brother were not only gay but also lovers. What was he supposed to do now? Confront them, or walk away and pretend he had seen nothing?  No clear answers came up in his mind. The worst thing was that, underlying all the other emotions, there was the depressing sensation of being excluded from their world. There they sat, his best friend and his brother—and he didn’t belong. Somehow, that seemed to hurt more than anything else.

The movie ended at long last. Aarav sat with his head bowed until everyone had trickled out, then went for a long walk, trying to clear his seething mind. The two people closest to him were gay and he hadn’t even suspected it! Clearly, he had got to see just one side of their selves so far. If so, what were they really like?

It was quite late when he finally got home, which helped him avoid running into Arnie. Something told him he didn’t want a confrontation at home. The night crawled along as if unwilling to leave.

Aarav headed off to college early the next morning, again avoiding Arnie. He still had no idea what he had to say or do. He forced himself to remain calm through all the classes. Finally, at the end of the long day, he turned to Ishaan and remarked casually, “By the way, Ishaan, where were you yesterday afternoon? I tried to reach you, but your phone was turned off.”

Ishaan looked startled at this unexpected query. He responded vaguely, “Well, I’d gone out on some personal errand and had forgotten to take my phone with me. What did you call me about?”

That response somehow pushed Aarav over a tipping point. He felt as if Ishaan was mocking him, thinking that he didn’t know. The words came out scathingly: “Really? Well, it so happens that I went to the mall yesterday, to buy something. And guess whom I saw there? You. With Arnie—your ‘personal errand’. Sitting in that cinema hall. Kissing and cuddling. In public. Shamelessly. What do you have to say about that, eh?”

Ishaan staggered as if he had been punched in the face. He tried to recover his wits to respond. But Aarav was not done. “You’re gay! Is that why you wanted to be my friend? Were you expecting something from me too? Did you manage to convert Arnie? Tell me, is that why the two of you disappear all the time?”

Even as Aarav was working himself up to a rage, Arnie came up to join them, smiling, unaware of what awaited him. Aarav glared at Arnie; again, that smile seemed to be mocking him, and his fury spewed forth. “What are you laughing at, eh? Do you think I don’t know what you’re up to? I saw you two in that cinema hall yesterday, kissing and cuddling in public. Disgusting! Don’t you have any shame? Just wait till I tell mummy and papa all about it tonight. Let’s see what they have to say…”

Arnie crumbled under this unexpected and vicious onslaught from his brother. He glanced fleetingly at Ishaan, tears welling up in his eyes, then turned and ran blindly, not looking where he was going.

Aarav glowered at Ishaan who stood there forlorn, then walked away without another word. Their friendship was over.

—

It was well after midnight, and his family had gone to bed hours ago—but sleep eluded Ishaan.  He had lost his best friend, and probably his lover too. Why was Aarav so angry? Ishaan worried for Arnie. Had Aarav informed his parents as he had threatened to? How had they taken it? What would they do with Arnie? He had been half expecting all evening to be summoned to their home for an inquisition. Maybe they would accuse him of perverting their child. How should he respond? There was an enormous sense of guilt, that he had ruined Arnie’s life. Shouldn’t he have been more discreet?

The phone rang just after one, as Ishaan was drifting off to a troubled sleep. Ishaan picked it up slowly, dreading to take the call after seeing Aarav’s name displayed on the screen. But Aarav sounded worried, not angry; he revealed that Arnie had not returned home yet, and couldn’t be reached on his phone either. Was Arnie there with Ishaan?

“No, he isn’t here, Aarav. I have no idea where he could be.”

“Ishaan, I didn’t say anything to my parents last night. They’re asleep now, and don’t know that Arnie hasn’t returned home yet. Do you think we should go looking for him? Can you come over now? I’m really worried, yaar. I don’t know what to do.”

“Hold on, I’ll be there ASAP.” “Yaar,” he whispered. Changing quickly to his street clothes, he sneaked out, locking the door quietly behind him, and raced off to Aarav’s place.

Aarav was pacing restlessly in front of his gate, anxiety written all over his face. “Thanks for coming, yaar. What should we do now? Where do you think he could be?”

Ishaan placed his hands gently on Aarav’s shoulders. “Look, Aarav, it doesn’t help to be agitated now. Let’s calm down and think a bit. This may not be a good time to call up people to see if Arnie is staying over with them. Too many explanations will be required. Why don’t we first go and check out a few likely places? Let’s hit our college first; maybe he’s still there, who knows.” He started his motorbike. “Let’s go. Get on.”

The college gates were locked, and the watchman assured them that no one could be inside at that time. What next? Could Arnie have been injured somehow? They did a tour of the emergency wards of various hospitals. Nothing. Maybe he had decided to run away. They checked out the bus station and the railway station. Nothing. Had he already left town?

They had been driving around for almost two hours, crisscrossing the city, slowing down to inspect anyone they sighted on the near-empty streets. Aarav was getting frantic; he had completely forgotten his altercations of yesterday, his mind weighed down by other worries now. “Ishaan, just an idea: did you guys have any special place that you used to visit? I wonder if he could have gone to some such place; maybe waiting there for you, you know…”

Nukkad! Of course! Why hadn’t that occurred to him? Ishaan reproached himself silently.

Sometime after their first meeting on campus, Ishaan and Arnie had visited the rather neglected East Park in the outlying eastern suburbs of the city.  While wandering around the park in search of a sheltered spot, they had literally stumbled on this wonderful hidden place. It was a cozy little hollow under a thick clump of overarching wild bushes, mostly hidden from view, on a rise on the far side of the lake that was like a tiny island. To reach this spot required wading through shallow water for a distance and clambering over some loose and slippery stones, something that would not appeal to most people. So, they had the place all to themselves. They had named it “Nukkad” and had considered it their secret second home. They had often lived an hour or two together at Nukkad, blissfully immersed in the susurration of the breeze and the gentle lapping of the lake’s placid waters.

That’s where Arnie would be right now, Ishaan was certain. Arnie must have waited there for him all night; waited in the lonely darkness for the one guy he trusted. And he—he had lain comfortably in his warm bed at home, totally oblivious. Ishaan chastised himself again.

“Aarav, I think I know where he could be. Let’s go. I’ll tell you about it on the way.”

As they sped off towards the park, Ishaan told Aarav about their Nukkad and about their life together over the last several months. It felt a little odd for him to be revealing these things to Aarav, but also liberating. Aarav listened in silence, his mind struggling to absorb it all. So, this was their other side. He could never have imagined such an amorous streak in either Ishaan or Arnie. The love story of Ishaan and Arnie—that’s what it was, and how romantic it sounded! And what had he himself been doing all that time? Chasing after every girl on and off campus and constantly bragging about his little victories to his best friend! And, all along, his best friend had had eyes only for his little brother, but could never talk about it. Aarav suddenly felt ashamed, and cringed inside. It wasn’t supposed to be like this, was it?

Arriving at the park, they headed for the lake. Ishaan took Aarav by the hand and led him familiarly through the gloom, slowing down as they waded through the water and stumbled slightly over the slippery stones.

As they reached the mouth of the hideout, Ishaan held his breath. What would they find in there? In the darkness they could make out a figure lying curled up on the ground, motionless. Arnie! Was he dead? Aarav quickly dropped to his knees and shook the body frantically. Arnie stirred, woke up, and sat up slowly.

“Arnie, it’s me and Ishaan. Why didn’t you come home? We’ve been searching for you like crazy everywhere…” Aarav and Ishaan hugged Arnie with unspeakable relief. It was hard to hold back the tears.

Even in the darkness, Arnie appeared so vulnerable and lost that Aarav felt a lump in his throat. How could he have been so callous and insensitive? He hastened to add, “Arnie, I didn’t say anything to mummy and papa, okay? They’re asleep, and they don’t know that you went missing. Look, I’m really sorry about yesterday, little bro. You too, Ishaan. Please try to forgive and forget, okay?”

Arnie sniffled, looked at his brother, and asked hesitantly, “Bhaiya, do you think I should tell them tomorrow?”

“No need, bete. They will worry about you unnecessarily. Let’s wait until…er…after I’m married…after I’ve given them the obligatory couple of grandkids… Here’s an idea for what we could say: ‘By the way, mummy, papa, you’ll have to think of these kids as Arnie’s kids too, because he’s gay and doesn’t plan to give you any more grandkids to play with. However, he will be giving you a gay son-in-law to play with…’” They giggled at the silliness of it. Ruffling Arnie’s hair playfully and grinning at Ishaan, Aarav continued, “I think our kids won’t mind, either: all that love and attention, and all those presents… But try not to spoil them too much, okay, you guys?”

Ishaan’s eyes glistened moistly. He took Aarav’s hand and squeezed hard. This was going to be some family.

Aarav suddenly sounded very serious. “Actually, yaar, Arnie, I know exactly why you’re gay. It’s all my fault, yaar…”

“What?!”

“Yeah. It was during our childhood holidays in grandpa’s home in the village. Remember our sword fights with those long sticks? Quite a few of my blows landed on your head, right? That’s how it happened. Sorry, bete…”

“Really! Wow, that explains it. But I think we should test it, bhaiya. There’s a nice stick lying around here somewhere. Let’s see if it works on you…hold on…” Arnie groped around in the bushes behind him.

“No, yaar, stop! Have pity on all those poor girls waiting for me out there. It would break their hearts to see me walking around with a boyfriend on my arm, yaar…”

They laughed at the absurd images evoked. It was as if all their inhibitions had evaporated. They huddled together comfortably, and the words flowed with abandon, no longer cloaked in shame. Aarav had never felt closer to Arnie than he did at this moment; and, he was only now beginning to truly understand Ishaan, his best friend. Seeing Ishaan stroking his little brother protectively, he was pervaded by curious sensations. Of pride. And, of belonging. Yes—they belonged together, and deep inside it felt warm and good.

The stars shimmered as they danced tirelessly on the gentle waves gracing the serene lake. Aarav stretched dreamily and looked around him with interest. “Nice place, yaar. Nukkad, eh? My girlfriends are going to love it here…”

“Noooo!”

“Aarav, you can’t do that! This is our place…”

Aarav grinned and held up his hands. “Just kidding, guys. Relax! You can keep it all to yourselves. By the way, after seeing you guys together like this, I’m thinking maybe I too should just pick the right girl and go steady. Yaar, random flirting is fun, but maybe it’s time to move on.”

“So, Ishaan…tell me something,” Aarav continued after a while. “I want the truth now, okay? What about…me? Did you ever…you know…er…feel about me…um…the way you feel about Arnie?”

Ishaan looked at Aarav for a long moment, glanced at Arnie, sighed deeply, then ran his fingers through his hair. “Thank god you’re not gay, Aarav! I would have gone mad trying to choose between Arnie and you.”

They dissolved in laughter, marvelling at the miraculous bonds weaving them so intimately together.

Nobody wanted to be the first to let go as they snuggled under the leafy canopy, laughing, touching, and talking lightly of a thousand matters, until the first golden rays of dawn came frolicking over the eastern horizons to engild the clear blue sky in joyful greeting.

It was going to be a beautiful day.

I waited till the fifth ring. After that, I hung up – I knew he was not going to answer. He had not returned my calls. No texts even. My attempts to reach him were getting less frequent. Today I had called after a week. I thought maybe this time he would pick up – by accident if nothing else.

I knew it couldn’t be that he was away from the phone – he always had it with him. He had said as much back when we were still newly lovers. The second time we met, I had asked if I could call him. ‘Anytime, babe! I always carry my phone with me… everywhere, all the time!’, he had said.

I raised an eyebrow. ‘Everywhere? Even to the loo?’

‘Especially to the loo.’ He grinned. ‘It is quite fun to play some Sudoku on the phone while I finish my business, you know.’

‘Sudoku? You solve Sudoku boards while on the pot?’ I asked, unbelieving.

‘Sure! Most times, I have some music on, and am playing this at the same time. It is very relaxing. You should try it sometime.’

I shook my head. ‘Hey, if that’s what it takes to get you going, it is OK by me! Only – promise me that you won’t talk to me if you are on the pot or something like that? The thought makes me squeamish.’

He laughed, and said something about how my prudishness was adorable especially considering the tricks I got upto. I said something similar. I said I will always associate Sudoku with him in the loo now, and that I didn’t think I could ever attempt another Sudoku. We laughed about it, and for the next few days, it amused us to refer obliquely back to this.

‘Done with your Sudoku?’ I would ask when I called him in the morning, and if he didn’t pick up my call, he would message back ‘Was doing Sudoku – and I know you don’t like me talking with you then’ – things like that. It was cute.

New lovers do that with each other, I suppose – irritating personal habits somehow appear strangely adorable.

A few weeks in, and the same thing took on less loving overtones, and then plain nasty – ‘Either you are full of shit, or just so dumb it takes you forever to do your Sudoku’. That’s what I had texted him one evening when he had not picked up my calls or replied to my text messages the whole evening.

I was mortified when he texted later that night, and said he had to take his wife to the hospital and had to keep his phone switched off. Things had been too crazy, he said – and sorry he did not tell me. ‘Muahke up?’ he added. That was his latest cutie pie invention. It was supposed to be short for ‘kiss and make up.’

It made me smile. ‘Muah’ I replied and was profusely apologetic. I said I had not known anything like this had happened – ‘Are things OK?’ I asked.

‘Nothing major – will call in a day or two.’

‘Anything I can do?’

‘Just stay cute.’

So I stayed cute.

He was true to his word. Two days later, he was at my doorstep looking well even if tired. ‘Poor baby!’ I sighed, pulled him in, and made a royal fuss over him. He stayed the night – which is unusual for him. Most evenings, he would want to get back to his wife.

I had not minded that he was married. It was not like I was in love with him or anything – it was just sex, good sex. I did not have any qualms about it. It was not like I was a home wrecker or something – I was not looking to wrangle him away from wife and kids, and the way I saw it – it was his problem, not mine.

When he told me he was married, I had said, ‘So?’

‘I don’t have a problem with that – only I thought you may.’ he said.

‘Why should I? It is your thing. I don’t care.’

For some reason, I told him he was like Valmiki – and how on Narada’s pointing out how his sins are solely his, he goes and asks his wife if she would share in it as she shared the rest of his life, and she says no. I don’t remember why that story popped into my head then – there was some point I was trying to make about the sin being only the sinner’s, and how others who happened to enjoy the fruit of the sin weren’t affected. Or that if adultery was the sin, it was him committing it – he was just fruit I was enjoying.

Something like that.

It seems convoluted and totally pointless now, but that evening sitting across the dinner table over wine and chocolate drenched strawberries, with just the tips of our fingers touching, it seemed so apt, erudite and erotic.

Liquor does that to horny men.

We had a polite, friendly relationship of sorts to start with. Either would call, and if the other did not answer or call/ text back within the hour it was a no show and we would go about with our respective lives, but as things usually turned out, we would find ourselves getting together for a movie, or dinner and a few hours back at my place, and then he would go back home.

He had never stayed the night earlier. I was surprised that night when he did – pleased as hell, of course and when I was woken in the morning with the gentle nibble on my ear – I did not complain.

I made him breakfast. Laid it on, actually. We were both hungry as hell. I had scrambled eggs and put together a whole rack of toast, marmalade and honey, fresh cream, and coffee. I had a bowl of fruit as well – pears, apples, white grapes and walnuts. We did not talk much through breakfast – just grinned at each other like idiots, and blew kisses.

As I was washing up, he came up behind me, held me tight and whispered – ‘I think you are falling in love with me.’

I froze.

He cleared his throat huskily – ‘.. and I with you.’

I grabbed a hand towel, dried my hands, and continued wringing it as I turned around and kissed him.

He kissed back – passionately, and made to undress. We would have been doing it at the kitchen sink by the looks of him.

Only – I pushed him away and walked away to the couch – looking ashen, and with tears streaming down.

He came around, shocked to see me cry. It genuinely moved him. He held me gently, rocked me as I cried, kissing every tear that flowed, and me. We made love on that couch. It was not just sex – we made love, truly, passionately, intensely. I had never felt like that before – not with him, not with anybody else. It suddenly made sense to me – this whole thing about why people got so fussed about sex and love, and mix up one with or for the other.

After he left that day, I spent the whole afternoon moping about the house. I was not sure what I wanted to do. I kept singing ‘and then you go and spoil it all, by saying something stupid like I love you.’

I knew it had changed. I was in love. With him. I didn’t want to be.

Then I did something stupid. Or the smartest thing. I don’t know. I broke up with him.

He thought I was kidding at first, and then he was hurt, angry. For two days, we furiously texted each other with incriminations and recriminations. Pleading one moment, threatening the next. Cursing to hell, declaring undying love.

I said. ‘I cannot break up your marriage’

‘I thought you were OK with me being married! I never said I will end my marriage – being in love with you does not mean I stop loving my wife! I thought you understood!’

‘No. That wasn’t the case. If you don’t understand what I am trying to say – you never will. There is no hope. I cannot be in love with you.’

‘Then don’t! Alright – I take it back. I am not in love with you. Better now? Can we go back to being sane?’

‘Too late. I cannot undo. I am in love with you. I cannot be with you.’

‘Don’t keep saying the same shit!’ He snapped. ‘You are being melodramatic.’

I did not see how I could continue.

He offered that he come around. ‘Let’s talk about it. We have a good thing going. Don’t let us fuck it up.’

I couldn’t see how. I refused to take his calls after that. He tried for many days. I did not reply to his texts, or return his calls. After a week, his attempts grew fewer and far between, and then they stopped.

It took me a couple of months to get over myself. I cried to friends about having learned my lesson finally on being in love with a married man. They sympathized for a while, and then just ignored the part of me that whined. Things moved on.

I moved on. After a month, I hooked up with a cute chap. Then another. Soon, life was normal again.

Now – I missed him. Not for the sex or anything – well, that too, but mostly just him. I wanted to see him. ‘Can we be friends?’ I texted, and variations of ‘I miss you.’ and ‘I have been stupid.’

I made feeble joke about his Sudoku being unsolvable and he might as well get up. I even texted ‘Muahke up?’.

No reply.

Reproduced with permission from Mahesh’s blog The Reluctant Observer.