Adultery My wife through the lens of CCTV

[tharkibudda]

Chapter 3 - New Beginnings

Two trains and a bus ride later, we found ourselves in the dusty embrace of Jaunpur. The town was smaller than I had imagined, with narrow streets lined with shops that seemed to have been there for generations. The air was cleaner, the noise a distant memory, and for the first time in months, I felt my lungs expand with something other than the pollution of the city.


The office of Chand Tiles was a modest building, a stark contrast to the gleaming towers of Mumbai. The receptionist, a middle-aged lady with a warm smile, directed me to Lakhan Chand's office. He was a man of surprising poise, his late-30s features etched with a maturity that seemed beyond his years. His English was peppered with an accent that hinted at a foreign education.

As I sat across from him, the air in the room seemed to shift, carrying with it the scent of old money and new ambition. His eyes, sharp and assessing, took in my city attire, the crispness of my shirt and the shine of my shoes. He leaned back in his chair, steepled his fingers, and spoke with an ease that belied his position.

"Manav," he began, his voice a rich baritone that filled the room, "I must say, your qualifications are quite impressive. And your dedication to your work, commendable."

"Thank you, Sir," I said, trying to keep the excitement from my voice.

Lakhan Chand's eyes twinkled, as if he enjoyed watching the dance of ambition in my eyes. "It's not every day we get an M.Com graduate from Mumbai to apply for a position here," he said, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "But I believe that your experience and my company's growth prospects will be a perfect match."

The interview was over before I knew it, and Lakhan Chand leaned forward, extending his hand. "Welcome aboard, Manav," he said, his grip firm and reassuring. "I've seen potential in many young men, but something tells me you're going to go far with us."

My heart raced as I took the appointment letter from him, feeling the weight of the decision in my hands. The words "Immediately Effective" stared back at me, a stark reminder of the life-altering choice I had just made. This was it—our ticket out of Mumbai, our path to a simpler life with Dhristi.

Back in Mumbai, I shared the news with her, her eyes sparkling with joy. We decided she would stay with her parents for a while until I had set up a suitable house for us. I packed her off to her mother's home.

The first few days in Jaunpur were a blur of meetings and paperwork, but I managed to squeeze in some time to look for a place to live. I stayed in a small, clean lodge .

The broker, a squat man with a greasy smile and a penchant for chewing paan, took me through a whirlwind tour of the town's housing options. The first few places were small and dingy.

"No, no," I said, shaking my head. "Dhristi deserves better. Show me something bigger."

The broker looked at me, surprise etched on his face. "But, Sahib," he protested, "these are the best options within your budget."

I stood firm. "I don't want the best of what's available," I said, my voice filled with a determination that had been dormant for too long. "I want the best that this town can offer."

The broker's smile faltered for a moment, his paan-stained teeth bared in a look of disbelief. Then, with a shrug, he led me to a more upscale part of town. The houses grew larger and the roads were cleaner. It was a stark contrast to the claustrophobic chawl we'd left behind in Mumbai.

But as we stopped in front of a 3bhk bungalow surrounded by a lush garden, the price tag slapped me in the face like a wet fish. I blinked, staring at the figure he rattled off in Hindi, hoping I'd misunderstood. The house was beautiful, no doubt, but the rent was more than I'd ever imagined spending on a place to live.

"It's too much," I said, my voice tight with disbelief.

The broker looked at me, his expression a mix of greed and smugness. "Sahib," he said, his words heavy with the sweetness of a sales pitch, "this is the best that Jaunpur has to offer. The neighborhood is safe, and the house is fit for a king."

I swallowed hard, the reality of small-town prices hitting me like a ton of bricks. The cost of the bungalow was steep, even for a man with a newfound sense of purpose. I thought of Dhristi's smile, the way she'd looked at me with hope in her eyes when I spoke of our new life. I couldn't bear the thought of her living in a cramped, dingy place, not when she deserved so much more.

"I understand," I said, my voice firm. "But I need something that won't break the bank. Something comfortable, but affordable."

The broker's smile didn't waver. He nodded, his eyes gleaming as if he had an ace up his sleeve. "Sahib, I may have just the place for you," he said, and I felt a glimmer of hope.

He led me to the next street, where a house stood tall behind a six-foot wall, its gate painted a cheerful blue that spoke of better days. The garden was small but well-maintained.

The broker's eyes gleamed as we approached. "Sahib," he said, "this is the house you've been looking for." He unlocked the gate with a flourish, revealing a courtyard filled with potted plants and a single neem tree that whispered its welcoming shade. The house was a 3BHK with nice modern fittings.

"But what's the catch?" I blurted out, unable to believe my luck. The house was well within my budget, and yet it had a charm that spoke of a life we could build together, a life that didn't feel cramped or compromised.

The broker's smile grew wider, revealing the darker truth beneath his polished veneer. "The house is caught in a legal tussle," he began, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "The owner, he's in a nasty divorce. The wife, she left him, took everything but the house. Court's sealed it until they decide who gets what."

My heart sank, but the allure of the place was too strong to resist. "What does that mean for us?" I asked, already dreading the answer.

The broker's smile grew more smug as he leaned closer. "It means, Sahib," he said, his words oily, "that for a small additional 'monthly fee,' we can make sure that the local authorities look the other way. The house will be all yours."

I stared at him, the weight of his proposition settling in my gut like a stone. The thought of living in a house with such a shadow over it was unsettling, but the desperation in Dhristi's eyes, her need for a clean break from the suffocating chaos of Mumbai, echoed in my mind. I knew she'd love this place, the quietude and the touch of nature soothing her soul. I took a deep breath, weighing the risks and the rewards.

"How small is this... additional fee?" I asked, already knowing the answer.

The broker's eyes narrowed, the gleam in them sharper than the blade of a knife. "ten percent, Sahib," he replied, his voice oily. "A small price to pay for a place like this."

I felt a knot tighten in my stomach, but I couldn't deny the pull of the house. "Okay," I said, swallowing hard. "But I want to see the interior before I commit."

The broker's smile grew wider, his eyes gleaming as he fished out a set of keys from his pocket. "Of course, Sahib," he said, jingling them like a street magician about to reveal his grand illusion. He unlocked the door with a dramatic flourish, and I stepped into a world that was a stark contrast to the one I'd known.

The living room was indeed vast, with high ceilings that made me feel like I could breathe for the first time in months. The floor was a gleaming expanse of marble,There were two plush couches  a dining table that could host a small feast and a kitchen with a countertop. The flat screen TV was a silent sentinel in the corner, a beacon of modernity in a town that still clung to its old-world charm.

"And these?" I asked, pointing to the air conditioners, a fridge, and a washing machine that stood out like trophies .

The broker's smile grew even more smug. "Ah, yes," he said, his eyes glinting. "Those are part of the amenities. The previous tenants couldn't take them when they left, so they're included in the rent."

As he spoke, he led me through the house, pointing out the two bedrooms that remained locked. "The owner's personal belongings," he explained with a shrug, as if that were the most natural thing in the world. "But fear not, the master bedroom is more than enough for you and your  wife."

He threw open the door to the master suite, and I couldn't help but gape at the grandeur before me. The bed was indeed a king-sized bed and flanked by nightstands . The attached bathroom gleamed with chrome fixtures and a shower large enough for two.

But the suspicion lingered. "If it's that easy to bribe the officials," I said, my voice echoing in the emptiness of the room, "why hasn't anyone else rented this place?"

The broker's smile didn't falter. "Well, sir, since the divorce is well known in this town, people consider this house as unlucky, a bad omen. They say it's cursed, that it brings misfortune to whoever lives here." His eyes darted around the room, as if expecting the walls to start whispering dark secrets.

I couldn't ignore the unease his words stirred in me, but I pushed it aside, focusing on the warmth and comfort the house promised Dhristi. "We're not superstitious," I said firmly, hoping my words would drown the whispers of doubt in my mind. "We'll take it."

The broker's smile grew wider, a shark scenting blood in the water. He took the advance and promised to handle the paperwork. I left the house feeling both elated and queasy.

In the following days, I worked tirelessly to make the house a home. I set up the gas connection, had the electricity transferred.

When I finally brought Dhristi to see our new place, her eyes widened with astonishment. She had never seen a house like this, not even in her wildest dreams. I watched her take in every detail, her eyes dancing with excitement as she touched the marble floors and the cold metal of the kitchen appliances.

"This is... amazing," she whispered, her voice filled with wonder. "How did we get so lucky?"

I wrapped an arm around her waist, drawing her close. "We make our own luck," I said, hoping the lie didn't show in my eyes. "Let's make this our home, Dhristi."

The house was indeed a haven for us, a place where we could breathe and grow. But it was also a prison, a testament to someone else's shattered dreams. The walls seemed to hold their breath, as if waiting for the next tragedy to unfold.