'SWEET DREAMS 1 (Completed) info about SD2 on new thread-98 - Page 12

8:Reflections

Rishabh couldn't sleep. He tossed and turned for hours but couldn't close his eyes despite the fatigue.

For as soon as he did, her face appeared in front of him"eyes rife with hurt, accusing.

Why did you say those words?

Why? He didn't know; it was a spur of the moment blurt, a "knee jerk" reaction he had no control over. Was he getting too used to her presence?

Sitting up, he leaned back against the wall.

He felt sorry for her; no, not sorry, he hated the word, it was devoid of responsibility, a word implying resignation...simply put, an easy way out. He felt empathy for her or hamdardi"yes, that was a better word.

They were both victims of circumstances, she more so. She had likely harbored dreams of making a successful marriage with him, but he had shattered them cruelly on their wedding night. He didn't fault her at all for asking him for the two months; indeed, he had been amazed by her resilience and presence of mind.

How he wished he hadn't been so blunt, in the least, he owed her that much! She was probably in her room crying her eyes out.

But now that it was out, it couldn't be taken back. He wished he could hit the rewind button and erase that sentence. Instead he could have said, "I don't think you need know any more than you already do. Let's continue the way we have been and part ways without any hard feelings. You'll be free to find someone else more deserving. Nobody in his right senses would be able to say no' to a girl like you."

Nobody in his right senses? What do I mean by that? Does that include me?

Screwing his eyes shut, he sighed. He could no longer deny he was drawn to her. He liked having her around. It was something he'd been afraid of. Was it simply a physical attraction?

For sure, she was incredibly beautiful. With her large, black, doe-shaped eyes, her full lips naturally pink, her smooth unblemished complexion, and thick wavy black hair, she could hold his attention for hours. And he knew that she knew it, too.

He frowned. "Rishabh, what has come over you? Why is your mind wandering like this? You have no future with this girl! She needs to get back to her own life and you to yours. Perhaps under different circumstances things could have worked out."

God! If only life wasn't so complicated. If only he hadn't met Des!

Picking up the frame from the nightstand, he scrutinized the picture. In the past six, almost seven years, he had scarcely paid much attention to it, for it reminded him of a past he wanted to forget.

He remembered the day quite clearly; he was young and ebullient, happy to have achieved something no one else in his family had"graduating from BITs Pilani with honors and acquiring a scholarship from a renowned university in the United States.

He had not regretted leaving home; he was itching to get away, to be free from his father's domineering influence. He disliked him tremendously for how he treated his mother, how he took her for granted and rained indescribable miseries on her. Yet at the same time, he didn't sympathize with his mother either for how she bore everything silently.

In graduate school, he had worked very hard to prove himself. He had no time, or made sure he had no time for extracurricular activities, though there had been plenty of opportunities. He was tremendously relieved upon graduating summa cum laude. But the ultimate thrill was achieved when he got the job offer. It meant he wasn't returning home; something he had dreaded all along.

After working a few months, he realized he could take it easy. Sujoy, who had just tied the knot, became a dear friend and he had urged him to get married. "The best thing that can happen to any man!"

But he wasn't ready for it; he valued his independence more than anything else.

Then he met her. Her true name was Heather, but she wanted him to call her Des because it lent a secret aura to their relationship; now he knew the real reason why.

She came to work in the neighboring department; he had to pass by her desk every day to get his coffee.

After a few days, she said hi, and he said hi back.

Then they started talking, sometimes over coffee or casually meeting for lunch in the cafeteria. She was his first female friend, and he liked her and she wasn't bad to look at"tall, slim, blond, with a knockout figure. They conversed about everyday things. She asked about his back ground and told him about her family and the small town she hailed from in the south. Then she became more personal.

"You know, Reeshabh (she had this way of prolonging the i' in his name), I haven't told you yet, but I'm married."

He stared at her for a moment dumbfounded then looked pointedly at her bare hand. He had been toying with the idea of advancing their relationship to the next level.

Seeming embarrassed, she said, "I remove it before I come to meet you."

"Then I don't think we should continue anymore. You should have made me aware earlier." He stood up to walk away.

"But, Reeshabh, hear me out. I was afraid of this very thing. You know how much I value our relationship, and there is nothing wrong with being friends, is there?"

There was no harm, he guessed, but he was not entirely comfortable.

She began to reveal how unhappy in her marriage she was, that her husband didn't care about her, and treated her worse than his pets. That he abused her both mentally and physically, and she was ready to bail out.

"I haven't opened up to anyone like this before, you are the first. I thought you'd understand."

He did understand. Indeed, he did more than that. He began seeing her more often.

She went to visit him when her husband was out of town, at times in tears, with black eyes and bruises. He wanted to console her, share her pain.

Meanwhile, she did not consider it crucial to reveal the identity of her husband, and when he did find out, it had become too late. For he had grown habituated to her, she was everything he had been missing in his life"soft, feminine, someone who needed him, somebody he wished to protect.

At the company's Christmas party, he met him. It was none other than his boss, Rich Jenkins, a person he looked up to and admired. He felt betrayed. But Des assured him that he was doing no wrong. She promised to work on getting a divorce, but that had been two years ago.

He grew bitter, his opinion of women dropping further. They were needy, conniving, and untrustworthy creatures who used men as sources of entertainment.

Disgruntled, he initiated a showdown with her before leaving for his homeland. Yet caved in to the pressure of her pleas and the hope he could still wrought a change in her selfish attitude.

But he was to be disappointed. After the trip, when they met for the first time in a coffee shop (he had declined a rendezvous in a motel), he found her changed; she seemed happy. Had she been putting on an act all along? He would soon discover why.

"So how is your new Indian wife, Reeshabh? Pretty, comely, submissive like a mouse? Hmm?"

"Why do you need to know? I thought we were here to talk about us." Oddly, he didn't care for her alluding to Madhu.

"I was curious, that's all. I mean... You know, how she is in bed and so on. She must keep you well occupied. You haven't looked me up once since you got back. The girl is something else." Her lips curled into a sly grin.

"I resent you speaking about her in this manner. What do you take me for, a philanderer who victimizes innocent young women?" he exclaimed loud enough to cause a stir among the customers.

"Don't get me wrong, Reeshabh. I just felt since you are married, too, that perhaps we could carry on the way we were. Nobody need get hurt in the process, neither Rich nor your wife." Her voice had assumed that familiar whining quality she used whenever she wanted to get her way. But not anymore.

"Well, unfortunately for you, I cannot carry on.' I cannot deceive my wife. She deserves much better. We should stop seeing each other. I assumed you had true feelings for me once, but now I think"no, now I know I was wrong."

Standing up abruptly, he marched out the door.

"But, Reeshabh..."

He didn't look back, and when she called him he didn't answer any of her calls.

***

It was close to 7:00 a.m. Rishabh hadn't slept, but some good had come out of this introspection; he had made some sense out of himself.

If I really sit back and think about it, my life has been an utter mess. But I won't let another turn out the same way. I should apologize.

Gently, he knocked on her door. "Madhu?" There was no answer.

He knocked louder. "Madhu, it's Rishabh. I am really sorry..."

Then cursing under his breath, he said, "I want to apologize about last night."

She didn't respond.

Running a quick eye around, he found the place deathly quiet. Discovering the door unlocked, he hastened into the room, now concerned she may have taken some drastic step. The bed hadn't been slept in. Her two suitcases still stood neatly in a corner like always; packed and ready to board a plane at a moment's notice. She wasn't floating dead in the bathtub either.

Shaking his head, he laughed. "I've gone nuts. She's playing with me." He strode into the kitchen expecting to find her preparing breakfast as usual. But his hopes came crashing down.

She was gone.

tbc

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