He bobbed a namaskar to some aunt clambering onto the stage and thought back to the last five days of festivities at his inlaws' home. He'd determined to savour that time as best as he could though the bitter-sweetness of her constant company, her laughter, and the signs of marriage she wore for the benefit of nosy relatives on various sides assailed him oftener than he'd imagined it would. Sometimes Vinod and he had gone out on errands very early in the morning and once he had reached in time to catch a glimpse of her as he had never seen her before, in her red batik caftan, her hair knotted casually behind her. That knot of hair would slide silkily open once in a while and when for a few brief seconds she had raised her arms to put it back in place the wide sleeves of her caftan had slipped back, revealing to his hypnotized eyes the pale soft perfection of her inner arm and the darkness further inside where her underarm began. He started guiltily at the thought of how he had gazed at this one exposed part of her he wasn't familiar with, wondering if the guests around him could sense his thoughts, so intensely could he feel within himself again the urge to grasp her arm, suddenly even more alluring than ever before, and draw her close to his hopelessly hungry body.
Satish's mother was speaking next to him... he made an effort to focus on what she was saying. Something about another person being needed to fetch a suitcase with some of Varsha's things from their place just a few blocks away. In the usual wedding chaos when her family had sent all Varsha's things ahead to her new home they had apparently included by mistake many pieces of jewellery she needed for the reception later that day, and Satish's mother in turn had forgotten to bring them to the hall with her. Yes Kaki, no problem, I'll go. Outside the air-conditioned hall in the still and sultry evening he saw Archana in the back of the car Kaki had pointed towards, looking worriedly at a fat bunch of keys. His heart thudded inside him as he walked up to the car and sat wordlessly in the front seat next to the chauffeur. He knew she was startled into silence so he explained that Kaki (not trusting the man from the car hire agency to drive her there alone with the flat full of valuables from the bank locker) had asked him to accompany her. The car quickly pulled up in front of a swanky looking building. They rode the lift up to a high floor and Archana tried several keys on the main lock before one finally let them into a large and graciously appointed living room. So this was Varsha's home; if it hadn't been for Ajit, this was where Archana would have been the new young mistress. He followed her into one of the rooms and she went directly to a cupboard. She began to pick out things from little red boxes and place them in a small briefcase, pretending, it seemed to him, that she hadn't seen what his own eyes had immediately fastened on: the big double bed with its satiny bedspread in the centre of the room, hung all around with mogra strings in readiness for the night that lay ahead for Satish and Varsha. The scent of the flowers filled his nostrils and as she turned around, slim and gracefully curved in her vivid green-gold silk sari, his mind went back to that early morning moment and to its sudden and urgent desire.
He walked across to her slowly, not quite in a daze, yet not fighting the rapturous new craving that consumed his senses. Her eyes read his for long seconds and, understanding what they saw there, first widened in shock and then skittered away from his gaze as he took the briefcase out of her hand and placed it on the floor next to her. Would she resist, he thought, or refuse? Or would she, like him, want to seize this mad and pulsing magic that they might never know again? She bent hurriedly to pick up the suitcase and as she straightened to say something suitably sharp and distancing, her anchal, its silken tassels caught in the briefcase handle, fell away from her. He stood there rooted to the spot, knowing he should look away but in spite of months of impeccable correctness and rigid self control completely incapable of doing so, his eyes moving desperately over her in the brief time before she gathered the silk to her body again. She twisted around and away from him as she did so, but not before he had seen, in response to what he knew was the naked desire on his face, an answering need in the glance she quickly lowered. Now there was no letting her go, not after that, not with his whole body transmitting frantic messages to itself, messages that zig-zagged into him like lightning across a stormy night sky. Now there was no turning back, no looking ahead, no hoping for a what-if miracle. Now there was only this scented evening, and in its ragged and tempestuous grasp the two of them alone.
Kyunki Saas Bhi Kabhi Bahu Thi 2
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