Non-erotic Bonds of Love by sfraza

[pastispresent]

Chapter 11

Milind accepted his fate with a quiet resignation characteristic to his nature, when Neeta had not turned up in Goa. She was finally doing the right thing and he had no desire to break a home. He ceased sending messages to her and realized maybe being lonely was his destiny. The two relationships he had been serious about did not work out and he could not bring himself to invest in a third. He could still feel an occasional lust, desire for a conquest, but love that was another matter altogether.

He had spent the week in Goa largely ignoring his friends, swimming in the gentle waves of sea; riding his rented bike out among green fields and the narrow lanes. The countryside was beautiful and not littered or messy at all like rest of the India. The Goan-Portuguese architecture was beautiful; the fishing hamlets were sleepy and unhurried. And there were still some beaches where you could not see a single soul for miles. He waited every day for her to turn up.

And then when he was done and could not wait any longer, he returned to Varanasi. The spiritual land where his parents meditated and searched for the meaning of life meant nothing to him. It was chaotic, and dirty. During evening when the Aarti was being performed, the bells chimed in the background and the pilgrims prayed to find solace in; he often wondered how he could not find anyone in this sea of people that lived on earth to call his own.

He reached out to one person he had ever felt intimate with; Daniel in Canada. She was happy, she had found success, was a highly paid executive and enjoyed crushing people beneath her high heeled stilettoes. She laughed wickedly about it, according to her it released negative energy inside her. She was in an on-off relationship with a bull of a man, who matched her aggression. They fought each other hard and then got together again.

“Maybe it was not meant to be, you and me.”, she told him philosophically.

“Yes”, he did not know what else to say.

“What is going on with you” she inquired inquisitively.

“Just going on, I plan to compete in the winter events here,” he said distractedly.

“Is it a girl. Are you broken hearted? Oh, I am so sorry”, Daniel clucked empathetically but it only made Milind wince.

“You should come and live with us for some time”, she told him generously which made him feel just pathetic.

“Sure someday”, he assured her morosely and slightly untruthfully.

Even this vixen of a woman had found her dwelling. Where was his?

He was doing well in a publishing company in France, there were a lot of French girls, so waifish and flat chested they were almost androgynous. He could not get attracted to them. But he lived on, enjoying the sunny weather, the hedonism of Parisian life. He would smoke melancholy on the banks of the river Seine, blowing away wisps of smoke, burning out little French cigarettes. He was a pebble in a world of his own, cast away under the effect of his own desires.

So, when he received a message from Neeta one morning, he found himself to be getting uncharacteristically excited. He picked up her favorite coffee as he remembered and waited expectantly at the Charles De Gaulle airport. The message was short and simple.

Coming to Paris. Flight landing at 8 a.m.

She had not asked him to come, she had not contacted him for many days. She had just sent a message. He was grateful that she had. He did not know if she came for one day or one week or forever. She was here and today he would tell her how he felt about her. Neeta came out of the airport, in a disheveled attire, looking more distraught and forlorn than her fellow travelers.

He waved to her; the words “I Love You” playing on his lips and waiting to be said out aloud. They hugged each other, and Neeta started bawling in the middle of the busy airport terminal, leaning on his overcoat attracting curious looks from passersby. Milind hushed her in soothing tones. Whatever it was that he wanted to say, had to wait.

Grief, when a loved one passes by, is inconsolable. Betrayal when a loved one leave is much harder. Aditya would have preferred if his wife had died of cancer or crushed over in a freak accident. The pain he felt now was much worse. His mother could not be put in the dark any further. His father a hypochondriac was spared the troubles. His mother fantastically took his wife’s side. There was no need to drive her away. She was enraged with her actions but according to her there was no need to leave.

He could not believe her words. He thought she would at least be on his side, maybe plan a second marriage but he had underestimated the power of affection that grandmothers have. She called Neeta, asked her if she wanted to come back quite coldly of course. On hearing affirmative, she beseeched him to settle things with her. Aditya had always listened to his mother, his mother who did not interfere in his life even if the question was as mundane as what is cooking for dinner. The same mother was passing him the injunction to bring back his adulterous wife. He ignored her as old fashioned. He did not care for Neeta, not any longer, not even the sake of their kids.

He would have called her back had he known she wanted to come back. But he had been unable not to spy and got to know the name of ‘the man’. It was not so difficult after all he knew her email id and password. He knew she had gone straight to his arms after leaving this house. She had left her own husband for another man. The fifteen years had meant nothing, nothing at all. How can he live with her under the same roof again? He liked to think of himself as a practical man, but such hypocrisy went against his moral fabric.

Aditya immersed himself in work, to maintain his sanity. His strength seemed to have gone with his wife. He cried often saving his tears for the night in the comfort of his bedroom. His wails muffled in his pillow. He did not even want his mother as he thought she will take things into her own hands and bring his wife back if she knew of his distress. He went to no one for help. The core of the tree as he thought of himself was rotten and corrupted and if he was to be any good to anyone he had to heal himself first.

The children were still largely ignorant but not unaffected. Anjali behavior was erratic, Rohit getting gloomier by the day. The family was falling apart. And Aditya did not care.

Neeta would not have gone to her lover had she known there was scope to come back. But she had thought the door to her old life was shut forever. And she had gone to the only person who would provide solace to her without judging her, not even sure if he would make himself available to do it.

But Milind had taken care of her and she was grateful. Maybe he did love her, but she did not believe in love anymore. Milind had stood with her as she stayed in his two-room apartment crying her heart out, morning, afternoon, evening and night. The curtains remain shut, the light switched off, no one ventured to even go out in the balcony and take in the aura of the beautiful city. Everything was lost to her, the blue sky, the tourists, the beautiful paved roads and the pigeons flying above. She had quit her job. And these days she simply passed away staring at the walls, waiting for the time of day when she could call her children and tell them about the fake exciting day she had. But days passed by and then weeks and then months, she slowly started going out for groceries, made Milind’s bed, cooked his dinner. In the face of consistent kindness, firmness and generosity of her only friend in the world, she began to recover.

They went to river Seine and took a daily stroll by its banks or boat trips. They walked till they were tired to death in the numerous beautiful parks of Paris. They visited the various museums, staring for a long time at some painting or sculpture they liked. Not bothering to discuss its aesthetic value. He took her to the countryside, driving away in relative silence just a word or two between them. Sometimes he would hug her and hold her close, but it was always an asexual act provided for comfort and not for desire.

Milind took her to the winter events on the Alps where he competed. She would sit on the top of the peak, not participating or cheering him but just sitting as he skied the dangerous slopes. Once he fell and got hurt and he saw a spark of concern in her eyes, it made him feel extremely pleased.

He took her then to meet his friends who were mostly Parisians. They conversed only in French. Milind spoke the language, but it was alien to Neeta. Who stood there mostly like a deaf and mute. He asked her if she did not want to go, but she said she did not mind. The noise and aura of artificial cheerfulness were better than the silence of the walls of the apartment around her. Sometimes Neeta felt she would drown in that silence. She would stand there with a fake smile plastered on her face as the beautiful ladies, intellectual authors, smart publishers talked about every topic in the world.

Neeta bought western dresses to fit in. The slim fitting black dress a must for all parties. Floating gowns. Smart trousers. All of Paris fashion at her command. Shopping healed her, and she spent handsomely. Mostly for herself and sometimes for Anjali and Rohit, hoping the clothes would not get too short when she sees them next.

In one of the parties as she stood there barely paying attention to who was talking to Milind, scraps of English reached her ears and she pulled herself out of her reverie. Milind was introducing her to someone, an English author who frequented India a lot.

Milind introduced him to her.

“So how come you are in France”, he asked conversationally. Neeta was jolted into reality. What was she doing in France? Maybe not knowing French was a bliss, Neeta did not have to answer any questions. She did not know what to say, Milind answered quickly, “She is with me”.

Once the Englishman left, Neeta approached him, she wanted to go home.

Milind could not leave as it was his official party, he hesitated just for a split second. Neeta got the hint, she smiled and said she will be fine going alone. He protested, she insisted, and he promised he will follow her back home as soon as he could.

She walked part of the way and took the Metro rest of the way. Paris was breathtaking but lifeless, like a diamond ruby necklace glittering under artificial lights. In one of the showrooms, Neeta looked at her reflection and she saw a thin woman wearing a fashionable red dress, her hair let loose, dyed red on its fringes, nude lipstick with glittering eye makeup. She could barely recognize it was her.

Who was this woman all alone on a deserted street? A woman is not looking over her shoulder to check every single minute if her children were ok. A woman not clad in an ethnic sadee and gold jewellery.

She realized she had made the same mistake again, took on someone else life as her own. She had no plans to marry Milind and roam the world with him, her world and her heart belonged somewhere else.

The next morning, she packed her bags to go. She told Milind she needed to return to India, so that she could see her children more often. They did not talk to her much during the numerous telephone calls and it pained her incredibly to be cut off like that. Circumstances were what circumstances were and she had to make the best use of it. She would always be incredibly grateful of whatever he had done for her.

Milind listened to her treating him as an outsider once again. It hurt him badly. He had never taken care of another human being like this before. Not even his own folks. The commitment to his first relationship was a joke compared to what all he had done now. He had not gone halfway to achieve what he wanted. And he was still not done.

“I will come with you”, he told her getting up. “That is if you want me to come”

The trouble with non-legal relationships is such that you must constantly ask for permission.

“You don’t want to come to India, you hate it there,” Neeta replied.

He did not reply.

Lord, this man must love her. Neeta moaned inwardly. But she did not want extra baggage. She wanted to see her children and she could not do that with another man around. Aditya would never allow it. He would never let Anjali and Rohit visit her if she lived with Milind. She was even scared to ask.

That month, she left alone for India.