I am not my wife’s first love.
But she is the only woman I have ever loved. I sometimes ask myself: Raja, do you really deserve her?
I’ll tell you something about my wife. She is tall for an Indian woman and her hair is cut into little steps, each step curling like a wave. Her skin is smooth and dark, and her eyes … her eyes … brown and big and warm. To me, she is as beautiful as the mountains of Leh.
Siva knows this. He knows I have never loved anyone else as I have loved Shanti. I have told him this.
We were in college then. We were sitting near the football ground outside our campus in Pondicherry one evening, Siva and I, and Shanti happened to walk by. He caught me looking at her. So I told him she was a classmate. I told him something more … to me, she was my manna. I told him this.
He just laughed and flicked his cigarette bud to the side. And, after that, well….
Here is now, after half a decade, holding his drink and talking about how Maldives is going to sink in a hundred years. We are in an airplane that’s taking us back to Mumbai from the Maldives. I want to ask him why he can’t stay back so he sinks along with it.
Siva is dark with curly hair, and his teeth shine, like elephant tusks. His legs are too long to belong to any human being. I am only an inch taller than Shanti and my hair is always combed to one side … well … you could call Siva good-looking and me okay-looking.
Not that it matters … not to me.
Shanti is sitting behind me with Sona (Siva’s wife). They are reading the airline catalogue together. ‘I want this … and this,’ she says. I can hear them chuckling. Shanti calls me a miser. ‘You are stingy, you know?’
But I have never withheld love from her. I can’t bear the thought of sharing her with anyone. That’s why I told her I don’t want children. ‘Let’s live freely, like those wild dolphins we sang to in Cape Town.’
It’s what I told my counsellor too when she asked me if I wanted children.
‘Ah, they are are clever creatures,’ she said. ‘Do you know how some of them find their mates?’ Mrs Tandon had laughed and adjusted her glasses. I like her but I don’t see her often. Only sometimes, when I can’t relax and my mind is popping like popcorn.
It started popping when I met Siva many months ago in Mumbai. That’s where we moved – Shanti and I – after we got married. I didn’t know Siva was there.
I last saw him when he left college to study elsewhere. He saw me standing all squished in this crowded train compartment … and he recognised me. I couldn’t duck or run away. He elbowed his way to me and talked till the cows came home. I had to interrupt his monologue when the train neared my stop, but he jumped down with me saying he lived there too.
‘Which building?’ he asked and wove his fingers through his hair.
I should have just grabbed his backpack and flung it at him.
‘Kohinoor City…’
I had to then invite him to my place and that’s how we all got together. I invited his wife as well.
‘What do I get for the children?’ he asked.
‘Oh … not yet,’ I said, trying to avoid the jostling crowd near the train station.
‘Okay, okay, even we haven’t thought about kids yet…’ Siva raised his hand and I raised mine without knowing why. He then touched my palm with his, like silly schoolgirls do.
The moment I told Shanti, she started wiping a counter that was already clean. ‘How could you call them without even asking me?’
I told her that I was trying to be polite to him.
‘Where’s the need to be polite to everyone?’ she asked. ‘Come on,’ I said, but I secretly prayed Siva wouldn’t make it. I hoped he would fall into a manhole or catch cholera or something. There was a slight fluttering in my stomach, the kind that begins when you don’t know where something is going to lead.
He arrived, bang on time, with a crate of mangoes. Sona looked like one of those models you see on television, the ones who sell detergent and noodles. Her eyes were lined with kohl and her saree was pure white with a red border.
Shanti took a while warming up to the couple but I must say she gave it her best.
‘I am only learning how to cook, so…’ She laughed. ‘Hope the food isn’t too bad.’
Sona’s big red bindi stared at us from her forehead as she chewed on the chicken biriyani. ‘It’s delicious,’ she said. All said and done, she could have married someone hundred times better than Siva. I caught him looking at Shanti as she ate some readymade gulab jamuns. She didn’t return his glance or anything and I ate an extra gulab jamun to celebrate this.
‘It’s so lonely here. And half the women talk in Hindi, Sona, even when they know I don’t speak it.’ Shanti didn’t like Mumbai. She wanted to go back to Pondicherry.
‘I know.’ Sona shook her head.
She called us home the following weekend and Shanti couldn’t say no. I didn’t create a scene but she knew that I wasn’t overjoyed. I opened my mouth to say something but Shanti spoke first. ‘Sona is a nice girl and I really miss talking to people.’ She started wiping the counter. ‘Let’s just remove all our mental blocks and move on.’
Shanti has always tried to conquer her ‘mental blocks’ and she tells me to also ‘get on with life’ or ‘move on with life’. So we moved on, but the fluttering in my stomach increased one evening when Shanti came up to me a few weeks after that and … ‘Sona is saying we all must go to Maldives for New Year.’
I wanted to scratch her face.
‘You remember those wild dolphins we saw in Cape Town?’ I asked. I don’t know why I remembered those dolphins.
‘I am asking you something, and you are talking about dolphins.’
‘We’ll stay home and catch a movie.’
Silence speaks louder than words. Shanti’s silence speaks loudest.
So I booked the tickets and Siva booked, not two separate rooms, but a villa for all of us. Some men never grow up.
Shanti and I couldn’t spend a single sunset by ourselves. The blue skies and green lagoons of Maldives made no impact on me whatsoever. I was haunted more by Siva’s constant presence than the thunderous waves that crashed near our resort. His sappy poem on the star-studded sky made me want to kick his face in but Shanti was clapping and bowing. She likes to listen to terrible things like philosophy and poetry and am not against it, but what does Siva know about poetry?
Not that I didn’t try to spend quality time with Shanti. I got up early one day so I could take her whale-watching, but this guy was standing on his balcony at dawn smoking a cigarette. His wife was combing out her hair and smiling. Who wakes up so early on a holiday? He called out to me. ‘Machan, up so early?’ Now, machan is a slang word. It means buddy or something. I don’t use it and I don’t think I am his buddy now. We parted on a bitter note and I don’t know how he can pretend to be on a machan basis with me.
Just as I was about to tell a lie, this damned Shanti came up behind me. ‘We are going to see whales!’ I wanted to pull her hair and drag her to the bedroom like Dushassana dragged Draupadi in the Mahabharata, but I am not vile like the Kauravas.
The aircraft is taking off now.
I had a small fight with Shanti before boarding the plane. I don’t think she should be talking so much to that dirty dog of a man. She told me I am insecure and I told her I have enough reason to feel that way. She just stood there staring at me. I could feel her eyes boring holes in my entire body. Then she announced as if she was talking about invading another country, ‘I don’t want to be the golden bird in your cage.'
‘I have kept the cage open,’ I had said. I kept a straight face but inside, I was breaking. I didn’t like it that my wife was getting too close to this man who … oh, damn it! He has spilt his drink on my seat now. He is apologising but I have to get this stain off my t-shirt quickly. This is the worst trip of my life. Shanti doesn’t even look at me as I clutch my t-shirt and walk.
Airplane toilets are like hellholes. I hate the flush in here. It sounds like a beast that swallows people.
Damn!
Now I am stuck in this toilet as the door is not opening. Something is wrong. My god, what an idiot I will look to the others waiting outside.
Someone is banging on the door.
‘Sir, please walk back to your seat. The seat belt sign is on.’
I am also banging on the door because it is not opening.
‘Sir, please pull the handle TOWARDS you.’
Yes, I am doing that! I am panicking, I think.
What did Mrs Tandon tell me to do?
‘Hey, it’s me. Open the door, machan. That word again. ‘Siva here, just pull the door.’
I want to vomit on this man.
‘Don’t panic.’ That’s Shanti.
‘Slide the latch first and then pull.’ Sona?
Why is everyone here? Is Siva laughing?
I grip the tap tightly to beat back the nausea. I can’t let him do this to me. I won’t let his tomfoolery go on.
‘Hey machan, you remember how you were stuck in the men’s toilet back in college?’
Shanti laughs. Bloody hell!
‘Yes, as clearly as I remember you climbing up to the ladies toilet in college.’ I can’t believe I said this. So I am going to say some more. ‘You were thrown out of college for it. You remember?’
I made a noise like a horse whinnying. I won’t try opening the door now. Everyone will go back to their seats in a while and then I will try.
‘Siva?’
‘Yes. I am here.’
I laughed as though it was all a joke. It wasn’t.
I had watched Siva being taken away by security guards. Shanti was there too. She stood close to me that day. Her eyes were damp and her mouth was set tight. She clutched her handbag till her knuckles were white.
Siva didn’t think I would say this, ever. Not when his wife was there. He is as quiet as a mouse now. I can hear Sona making sounds like pigeons do. She is probably asking Shanti about all this. I am doing a small dance standing in the toilet of this airplane.
‘Don’t worry. I will be out in a while.’
I manage to push the door open after some time without making too much noise. I was leaning on it all this while with one hand and trying to open it with the other. Shucks. But I did it right this time. There’s no one outside.
I reach my seat and comb my hair with a small comb I have kept in my breast pocket. Siva is looking out of the window and Shanti’s nose is buried in some magazine. Sona smiles at me.
‘Finally…’ she says.
‘Yes, finally.’ I smile too. I see her looking at Shanti first and then at Siva. ‘What was that about your college days?’
‘Oh, that…’
Shanti closes the magazine and pushes it back into the seat pouch. The engines are making a whirring noise.
‘Nothing, just a prank.’ Sona isn’t convinced. She looks at Shanti whose smile doesn’t reach her eyes.
‘What are you all hiding?’ She is only half smiling now.
I snort and sit down. ‘Nothing,’ I say. ‘I don’t even remember it clearly.’
Now how am I going to present all this to Shanti? It’s going to be tough what with all her ‘move on’ shit.
‘That was tough, man.’ I am in my seat and putting on the seat belt. ‘The door … they should just change the latch.’
Siva nods his head but he doesn’t look at me. I feel my heart float up from the sinking pit in my stomach. I don’t even notice the plane heaving and shaking as it lands on the runway.
‘Maldives was fun.’
I say this to lighten the mood but no one says anything. We are all in the same cab and I am seated next to the driver. A small glass dolphin hangs from the rear view mirror. I push it with my fingers and watch it sparkle in the evening sun.
Siva and Sona will get out first. Shanti and I will head home after that. ‘It’s good to be back home.’ I am trying hard.
I turn around to see Shanti shooting daggers at me.
‘I think you all are hiding something.’ Sona’s shrill voice fills the cab.
‘What?’ I ask. ‘Why … what would we hide?’
I turn around again. Siva looks out of the window and Shanti does the same. Sona is in the middle. She is sitting with her shoulders hunched so her arms don’t touch either Siva or Shanti.
Shanti’s face is grim and her eyes dart around. She will kill me if I don’t make this right somehow.
‘It’s just a prank he played back in college.’ I grin and turn back to catch my reflection in the rear view mirror. It looks fake.
‘It’s nothing.’ Siva is trying to salvage the situation.
‘Why couldn’t you just keep quiet?’ Shanti asks.
Before I begin to speak, Siva stammers, ‘This jerk wants to…’
‘Jerk? Who did you call a jerk?’ It’s Shanti again.
I think about some way to wrest back control. I don’t want Siva talking to Shanti. I don’t want him even looking at her.
Siva lets out a mocking laugh and pushes his wife back a little so he can see Shanti clearly. ‘This man you married … this idiot you left me for.’
Siva’s wife’s eyes turn into fireballs.
‘Machan, I don’t think you know what you are saying.’ I use that word just to mock him. ‘Don’t rake up the past. You called me a jerk and I forgive you.’
I turn back to face the road but inside, I am shaking with joy. The cab driver is smiling too.
‘I have moved on,’ says Shanti. Ha! Shanti and her ‘move on’ movement. ‘But I won’t let this man call you a jerk.’
I turn around to see Siva glaring at Shanti. His wife looks paralysed. Shanti doesn’t care.
‘The whole college was laughing at me. Raja gave me strength. He talked to me and led me through all the … the…’
‘…bullshit.’ I shake my head and exhale. ‘We took so much bullshit because of this pervert.’
‘I was nineteen years old.’ Siva spits like a snake. ‘It was meant to be fun. I didn’t know any better. But … you … you swam to him when I was drowning. You didn’t care about me.’ He stabs his own chest with his finger.
‘I cared enough to see if you would call me again. But you packed your bags and…’
‘I couldn’t face you, Shanti.’ Siva’s face mellowed.
No, no, no.
‘I didn’t know this, this jerk, would trap you,’ he continues. I think he will cry any moment. The cab is slowing down. I open the door before it stops fully and jump out.
‘Trap?’ I ask.
Shanti opens the door and gets out of the cab too. Sona is struggling because she wants to pull out her handbag from under her leg.
Siva lifts his backpack and looks at me. ‘You were my friend. You trapped her, you didn’t think about me even for a second.’ We are near the lobby of their building. God knows who is listening to this.
‘Say that again?’ I raise my hands a little, as if he has pointed a gun at me. ‘Is she a rat for me to trap?’
My heart beats like the wings of a hummingbird. I want to stop but I can’t give her up again. He always knew I wanted her. And yet, he pursued her secretly, and when I saw them holding hands near the college library … I will never forget that moment.
‘I stood by her, you bastard.’ I say this in a low voice so it comes out as a growl. ‘She was a wreck after you left.’
‘I know why you helped her. You always wanted her.’ Siva balls his fists. ‘You tricked her into thinking she loves you.’
Shanti stomps up to where Siva is standing. She is breathing hard. I pray for Shanti to be on my side.
‘You were right. Some people just never move on. They are always stuck, always, in the quicksand of time,’ she says.
The philosopher in Shanti is awakening. I can’t see her face clearly because the sun has set. Who is she talking to?
‘Get on with your life! Just grow up. I love Raja. Do you hear? I bloody LOVE him.’
Siva is looking at Shanti and his wife is looking at me and I am looking at Siva. His scowl makes my blood boil. The worm.
I hear Shanti banging the cab door shut and Sona walking somewhere fast. Siva doesn’t know who to follow. I decide to take charge before he makes up his mind.
‘Enough of this,’ I say.
The cab driver is honking like a lunatic.
‘E…NOUGH.’
I can’t risk another melodrama. I get in beside Shanti, lock the door and ask the driver to leave. My face is as grim as a meditating monk’s.
I glance at my wife whose first love I am not. Do I truly deserve her? What would Mrs Tandon say?
‘Well, she is going home with you, she is choosing YOU.’ That’s what she would say.
Besides, didn’t you hear what she said? She said I love Raja. I bloody LOVE him. Crystal clear.
The driver is spying on us through the mirror. I put an arm around Shanti who interlocks her fingers with mine. She is still trembling like a leaf. Her hair smells of rosewater.
‘You remember those wild dolphins we saw?’ Shanti glances at the glass dolphin. ‘You know some of the males steal fertile females from other pods?’
She purses her lips. She is listening.
‘Yes, they are not all that nice, and you know, some of these female dolphins, they actually fight back to stay with their pods.’
I notice that the fluttering in my stomach has vanished … completely.
‘That’s rubbish,’ she says.
‘No, Mrs Tandon told me.’
‘And what about those that don’t fight to stay with their mates?’ She is smiling now.
Just a few minutes more … and we are home.
*
Susheela Menon was born and raised in India. She currently lives in Singapore. One of her latest short stories appeared in Litro Online. She has also written essays for journals that focus on Asian content. Her work can be found online.