A New Kind of Rishta - Page 3

He sipped his tea, staring into the middle distance, and thought about his realities, about Shravani and what their marriage would be like. Shravani, who his own younger brother had touched and loved and left with child. He was certain he would make a good father to Sachin's child. But Shravani, would he ever be able to hold or make love to her without remembering Sachin and that first closeness the two of them had enjoyed, and that had changed the course of his life? And Archana's as well. Shravani was not unattractive by conventional standards, she was educated, could speak English, spent money easily, dressed smarter than Archana did. Shravani wasn't fat or ugly or bald or too dark or any of the things people in the chawl might criticize. Her straight hair shone and her nails were even and tinted, as if much work had gone into them. Once he had felt the touch of her hand; it was smooth and soft, as befitted the only and pampered daughter of an affluent man. Should he not want to hold that hand? Why did he feel no urge to get closer to her; was it her pregnancy that turned him off, or was there more to his unwillingness to think about the possibility of physical contact? Would he ever feel the same in her presence as he had just now in the kitchen, that dizzy rush of blood to the head, that overpowering desire to have and hold, no matter what? Archana, with her palms rough from washing dishes, her lack of artifice or sophistication, her simple old-fashioned sarees. And oh, but the beauty of her eyes, eyes at once modest and alluring, the grace of her walk in the nine-yard nauvari sari, the way the mogra flowers he had sometimes brought her sat at the nape of her neck. What a mystery love was, what a puzzle the body's desire, that attached itself so powerfully to one sight, one sound, one fragrance. He remembered her green glass bangles as a new bride, tinkling across the room to him as she moved in her sleep. He remembered the chandrakor kunku on her forehead, gleaming as she turned towards him on their wedding day, and the mundavali pearls that swung happily against her cheekbones. He remembered when she came out of her bath before anyone else had woken up, smelling of the new pink soap - what was it called? - that appeared on his bathroom ledge in its neat pink case alongside his little chunk of Lifebuoy. And he knew inside his heart with a sinking certainty that he would never feel such wonder, never know such rightness and such deep wanting, never feel so attuned and attracted to anyone ever again.

Somehow an age old combination of chadrakor kankoo and Mundavalya pearls is made to appear as if they are competing each other in enhancing the beauty of a lovely forehead.

Somehow a simple mingling of two cubes of Lifebouy and Lux on a clean wet surface was made to appear sensuous-as if both were being longed to be swapped.

@ author

May we request you to post your different episodes as separate posts with episode nos.?

Or if in the same thread then can you please put clear information of the latest episode in Title of the thread [e.g. Nikita's FF: no/page etc.]? Because the constant title is depriving many readers of the latest episode's appearance.