[shaalu_re]

Ajay reached the flat in the evening. He had planned to take Meera out for dinner. When he opened the door, the smell of cooked food filled the small living room.

Meera stood near the table. Meera stood by the dining table, still dressed in her white churidar, though she had taken off her shawl. The light fabric of her kurti fit closely against her figure, catching Ajay’s attention.. The thin fabric of the kurti lay flat against her boobs. The darker shape of her nipples showed subtly through the cloth.

“I had nothing to do after you left,” she said. “I went to the temple. Later a man named Diwakar uncle showed me the way to the market. I bought what we needed and cooked.”

Ajay set his bag down and looked at her. He had seen her without clothes a million times, but the quiet outline of her breasts under the white kurti held his attention. He felt himself hard again just like that.

The doorbell rang.

A young man of about twenty-one stood outside. He held a folded cloth cover in both hands. He looked past Ajay into the flat and did not speak.

“What do you want?” Ajay asked.

The young man still said nothing. His eyes remained fixed on the doorway.

Meera heard the voices and came forward. The moment the young man saw her, his expression changed.

“Didi, it’s me.”

Meera looked at him carefully. She recognised the face from the temple—the same young man who had asked her to help serve food.

“My name is Mahesh,” he said. “We met this morning.” He held out the cover. Inside lay her white shawl, neatly folded. “You left it on the desk. We found it in the evening. I didn’t know your name, so it took time to find this house.”

Meera took the shawl.

“Thank you.”

She stepped back a little, offering him entry. Mahesh shook his head.

“I have somewhere else to go. I’m already late.” He nodded once to both of them and left.

Meera closed the door.

“Nice boy,” she said.

Ajay remained standing where he was. The thought stayed with him that she had walked through the temple and the market in the thin white kurti without a bra. His eyes returned to the clear shape of her nipples against the fabric.

Meera followed his gaze. She reached up and gave the side of his head a light slap.

“I took the bra off only after I came home. It was uncomfortable. Stop looking.”

Ajay’s mouth moved into a small, crooked smile.

They sat down to eat. After a few minutes Ajay put his spoon down.

“I have a new assignment,” he said. “I leave the day after tomorrow. I’ll be away for about two weeks.”

Meera looked at him and waited.

“I was worried you would find it hard here alone,” he continued. “New city, new everything. But it seems you are already finding your way.”

Meera gave a short nod. The white shawl lay folded on the chair beside her.

Meera looked at him across the table.
“You would have gone on the mission whether I had settled here or not.”
Ajay did not argue. He only gave a small smile.
“Look at you now. Already making contacts. Boys are bringing your lost clothes home.”
Meera shook her head.
“I didn’t leave my panties anywhere. It was only a dupatta.”
The word stayed in the air. Ajay’s mind went back without warning. He saw the old office camera feed again—Meera standing in front of the lens, lifting her frock, sliding the panty down her legs, and leaving it on the table for him to see. The image was clear and sharp.
He felt the question rise in his throat.

Would you do it again?
He did not ask. The words felt cheap even in his own head. He kept them inside.
Instead another thought took their place. What if Mahesh had come a few minutes earlier, before Ajay reached home? The boy would have stood at the same door and seen Meera in the thin white kurti with nothing underneath. The shape of her breasts would have been plain under the cloth. Ajay felt his body react to the picture. At the same time a low discomfort settled in his chest. He was not sure whether the discomfort was for Meera or for himself.
He stood up and went to the bathroom. The shower water ran hot over his shoulders. Behind his closed eyes older images returned.
Chotu—also named Mahesh—standing at their old terrace door. Meera angry, the towel half-wrapped or already falling. Different versions played one after another. In one she still held the towel when Chotu saw her. In another the towel was already gone and she walked past him with nothing on. In a third version she held the towel out and let him take it. Ajay did not know which one was true. He only knew that Chotu had been there, and that something had happened.
The questions kept coming while the water ran.
How many people had seen her during those months?

Was it only Shankar and Chotu?

Or were there more?