OS: Garam Hawa - Page 6

Eight years. She had forgotten how those eight years took from her every pound of flesh she had owed Rudra. She questioned if after giving herself so completely, night after night, to the man's voracious emotional needs, the balance had not tipped in her favor,. The answer was always no.

A man she could nonchalantly claim as hers. It was worth more than the dingy alleys and seedy dark bedrooms of a red light district. She could not imagine herself laboring once again, through the stream of unwanted customers, who were not bothered beyond an available aperture to feed their gluttony.  Rudra had saved her from the inevitable fate that awaited a prostitute, of unwanted offspring's and of deteriorating health. She was rescued within the first month of her capture, when BSD had raided their encampment in the back alleys of Jaipur.  One month in the fake glitter, and narrow rooms of the brothel was enough for her to see the collage of decay and dilapidation that could eventually engulf her. She was thankful to the strapping BSD officer who had pulled her out of that morass. Ironically, she had offered herself to him in return.

He had been reticent and hesitant. She could see the fire burn behind that impassive face, hiding a seething wound that needed a woman's warmth. When she offered it freely and willingly, Rudra took it and after eight years, Laila began to resent the extent of the claim Rudra lay upon her. She wanted freedom from the discomfited tacit agreement that had them both in its grip. She needed to know where she stood, especially with the new entrant, her nemesis in every way.

Paro's piety overshadowed Laila, every way Laila cut it. She was afraid that Rudra had healed enough to see imperfections less than fitting his new journey to wholesomeness. Her helplessness enraged her and forced her to dig deep into the only arsenal she knew how to use with confidence. She seduced Rudra every night in the warm folds of her existence, overwhelming his senses to disallow other creeping questions. Yet, her subservience in the nightly bed had only exacerbated her angst and, sadly, his revolt. She could see it in his eyes.

The act of lovemaking had been reduced to a business transaction. Rudra's raging anger that had fueled his ravenousness seemed abated by the presence in the room next door, a desert oasis. Laila would have much preferred his anger and disdain, a sign of life, over the inadequate sensory satiety that now pervaded his nightly visits. She wanted to evoke the piquant jealousy and rawness with which he bristled in their encounters of the past. And for the first time, Laila found herself at a disadvantage.

She did not possess the innocence that oozed easily from Paro. She was too familiar with the ways of the world to compete with the endearing gullibility and inexperience of the other girl. Laila had mastered the art of winning Rudra's physical affection. But she resented that Paro gained ground on her where it really mattered - the battle to win Rudra's heart. Her life had been reduced to this age old equation where she found herself at a huge disadvantage.

Eight years. She could not just let it slip away. She had to fight with the very fiber of her existence and win, or dissolve herself in loss. Laila could not bear to see her Rudra warming the heart and bed of another woman. Eight years was too long and she could not lose, not again.