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At least they were on the same page when it came to making love, he thought. In the weeks immediately following the ceremony, geet seemed to be endlessly in the mood, which-in maan's opinion, anyway gave a definition to what a honeymoon was supposed to be. The word NO wasn't in her vocabulary, and maan chalked it up to the fact that her inhibitions were loosened not only because they were officially, a couple, but because he was, in fact, irresistible to her. He could do no wrong, and he was so intoxicated by the feeling that he would day-dream about her while working. he would visualize the soft contours of her body or remember the sensation of her touch against his naked skin; he'd draw a deep breath remembering the sweetness of her breath or the luscious feel of her hair as he combed his fingers through it. By the time she'd return from work, it would be all he could do to offer her a friendly kiss, and he'd spend the dinner hour staring at her lips as she ate, waiting for the opportunity to make his move. He was never turned down. He might be reeking through exercising or practicing martial arts, and it still seemed as if they could get their clothes off fast enough when they entered the bedroom.
Then out of the blue, things changed. It was as if the sun rose one morning and by the time it set, the geet he knew had been replaced by a non-responsive twin. He remembered it clearly, since it was the first time he'd ever been rejected: it was August 28, and he'd spent the rest of the morning alternately convincing himself it was no big deal and wondering whether he'd done something wrong.
Later that night, it happened again, and for the next eight days, that was the story of their relationship. He'd make his move, she'd say she was tired or simply not in the mood, and he'd lie beside her sulking, wondering how on earth he'd come to be viewed as a roommate who was still required to cuddle before falling asleep.
'aapne aaj subhe galat side se utha' she remarked the morning after the first rejection.
'haan wo main achi tarha se nahin so paya'
' kya aapne bura sapna dekha?' she asked sounding concerned. Despite her hair that was askew and long pajamas, she was strangely seductive, and he didn't know whether to be angry or ashamed of himself for thinking about sex everytime he saw her. This, he knew, was a danger of habits; where the previous weeks had become a pattern he welcomed, she was obviously of a different opinion. But if he had learnt one thing about women, it was never to complain about sex, or lovemaking. Men and women were different. Women sometimes wanted, men always needed. But he knew he'd sound as if he were whining, wishing that the honeymoon had lasted a little longer. ' pata nahi; he finally responded.
His confusion was underscored for during the day, she seemed the same as always. They would read news, shared the appropriate tidbits, she asked him to follow her to the bathroom, so that they could continue their conversation.
He spent everyday trying to not dwell on it. But every night he would crawl into bed and steal himself yet another round of rejection, doing his best to convince himself, that he wouldn't let it bother him. As the weeks passed, maan grew increasingly frustrated and confused.
One night before sleeping maan continued their regular cuddling routine before moving to the other side of the bed. In time he felt her reach for his hand. 'good night' she said, her voice soft, her thumb moving slowly over his skin.
He didn't bother to respond, but when he woke the following morning, geet seemed perturbed as she headed to the bathroom. He followed her in, they brushed and gargled together before she finally glared at him. 'to kal raat ko aapko kya hua?' she asked
'kya matlab?'
'mein.. apse pyar karna chahti thi.. lekin aap so gaye'
'geet, mujhe kaise pata chalega?'
'lekin maine aapka haath pakra haina?'
Maan blinked. This is how she made a pass at him?
'I am sorry' he said 'mein' mujhe realize nahin hua.'
'koi baat nahi' she said as if it weren't okay at all.
As she headed to the kitchen, he made a mental note about the hand-holding in bed thing.
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