divorce him,’ she said at last. Once the girl was married, experience and maturity would demand she make wise decisions.
‘Why marry then?’
‘Because the boy is good. As for your other objections, nothing will become clearer no matter how much you think.’
Zenobia’s very sentiments.
The evening of Ananda’s departure. They had just had tea, and were sitting on the front steps of B-26 Jangpura Extension, hidden from the road by the bulk of Mr Singh’s car. The door behind them was closed, Nina knew her mother would never open it; privacy was essential for the realisation of love and the mother’s ambitions for her daughter. The sun had set, and the last light of the day was fading. The streetlights flickered on. As it grew darker Nina and Ananda shifted closer to each other.
‘I will miss you,’ said Ananda.
He heard a faint sigh. Her head was on his shoulder, his arm around her, he could not see her face. Every time a car entered the lane, huge shadows were cast on the walls of the house. Then relative darkness for five seconds before another car appeared.
‘Does this go on all night? Don’t you get disturbed?’
‘We are used to it. Besides you may have noticed how dark and thick our curtains are.’
He said nothing. Seven years away and the country assaulted his senses like it might have done any foreigner’s.
He shifted down one step, pulling her with him, so that they were more completely hidden by the car. ‘I love you,’ he whispered. He was leaving the next day and already he felt desolate.
‘So soon?’ she murmured back.
‘I have always known my own mind.’
Again the sigh.
She was clothed in a thick sweater and a shawl, plus six yards of sari. His arm around her waist felt nothing but padding, and he slipped his hand under her sweater so he could feel her skin. She became very still, and he grew more conscious of her weight against him. There was some knit material loosely tucked into her petticoat.
‘What’s this?’ he asked, pulling gently at it.
‘In winter when it is very cold I often wear a vest instead of a blouse,’ she replied, not moving, waiting to see what he would do.
His yanking increased. ‘Just a second,’ she whispered, ‘you will pull my pleats out this way.’ She sucked in her stomach, freed the vest.
It was an invitation and he responded. His hand caressed her stomach, brushed against her breasts. More delight, she was not wearing a bra; beneath the outer volume of clothing she was very accessible.
‘I love you,’ he repeated, his heart beating, his body warm in the cold night.
She pressed herself closer. Gone was the awkwardness of words. With his free hand he turned her face towards him and nuzzled her lips. Her mouth opened, his tongue slipped in, to be met in eagerness by her own. His hand played fast and furious with her breasts, now no barriers between him and them. Involuntarily she opened her legs slightly; with alacrity he followed that invitation as well.
Nina’s body spoke its own language, coming to the fore in those insistent moments, treating as secondary her fears about distance and marriage. Her breathing told him this and he was satisfied. In his bones he felt this was the girl for him, and there by the wheels of Mr Singh’s Ambassador he did his best to make her feel the same.
‘Well, has she made up her mind yet?’ asked Alka sarcastically as he entered the house. ‘Or is she going to wait till the plane takes off.’
‘At least she is not looking for a meal ticket.’
This was ignored. ‘She is being mighty fussy. Where else will she get a man like you?’
‘Let it be. The girl has a right to ask for time.’
‘Already defending her,’ taunted the older sister. ‘You didn’t need time. Why does she?’
‘She is giving up more than I am, it’s not surprising that she should be cautious. I would feel the same in her place.’
Alka stared at him. So he was already under the girl’s spell. He looked happy,
‘Why marry then?’
‘Because the boy is good. As for your other objections, nothing will become clearer no matter how much you think.’
Zenobia’s very sentiments.
The evening of Ananda’s departure. They had just had tea, and were sitting on the front steps of B-26 Jangpura Extension, hidden from the road by the bulk of Mr Singh’s car. The door behind them was closed, Nina knew her mother would never open it; privacy was essential for the realisation of love and the mother’s ambitions for her daughter. The sun had set, and the last light of the day was fading. The streetlights flickered on. As it grew darker Nina and Ananda shifted closer to each other.
‘I will miss you,’ said Ananda.
He heard a faint sigh. Her head was on his shoulder, his arm around her, he could not see her face. Every time a car entered the lane, huge shadows were cast on the walls of the house. Then relative darkness for five seconds before another car appeared.
‘Does this go on all night? Don’t you get disturbed?’
‘We are used to it. Besides you may have noticed how dark and thick our curtains are.’
He said nothing. Seven years away and the country assaulted his senses like it might have done any foreigner’s.
He shifted down one step, pulling her with him, so that they were more completely hidden by the car. ‘I love you,’ he whispered. He was leaving the next day and already he felt desolate.
‘So soon?’ she murmured back.
‘I have always known my own mind.’
Again the sigh.
She was clothed in a thick sweater and a shawl, plus six yards of sari. His arm around her waist felt nothing but padding, and he slipped his hand under her sweater so he could feel her skin. She became very still, and he grew more conscious of her weight against him. There was some knit material loosely tucked into her petticoat.
‘What’s this?’ he asked, pulling gently at it.
‘In winter when it is very cold I often wear a vest instead of a blouse,’ she replied, not moving, waiting to see what he would do.
His yanking increased. ‘Just a second,’ she whispered, ‘you will pull my pleats out this way.’ She sucked in her stomach, freed the vest.
It was an invitation and he responded. His hand caressed her stomach, brushed against her breasts. More delight, she was not wearing a bra; beneath the outer volume of clothing she was very accessible.
‘I love you,’ he repeated, his heart beating, his body warm in the cold night.
She pressed herself closer. Gone was the awkwardness of words. With his free hand he turned her face towards him and nuzzled her lips. Her mouth opened, his tongue slipped in, to be met in eagerness by her own. His hand played fast and furious with her breasts, now no barriers between him and them. Involuntarily she opened her legs slightly; with alacrity he followed that invitation as well.
Nina’s body spoke its own language, coming to the fore in those insistent moments, treating as secondary her fears about distance and marriage. Her breathing told him this and he was satisfied. In his bones he felt this was the girl for him, and there by the wheels of Mr Singh’s Ambassador he did his best to make her feel the same.
‘Well, has she made up her mind yet?’ asked Alka sarcastically as he entered the house. ‘Or is she going to wait till the plane takes off.’
‘At least she is not looking for a meal ticket.’
This was ignored. ‘She is being mighty fussy. Where else will she get a man like you?’
‘Let it be. The girl has a right to ask for time.’
‘Already defending her,’ taunted the older sister. ‘You didn’t need time. Why does she?’
‘She is giving up more than I am, it’s not surprising that she should be cautious. I would feel the same in her place.’
Alka stared at him. So he was already under the girl’s spell. He looked happy,
Similar Books
