I have sometimes wondered, many years after the event, what made Swati & I do what we did. Or rather, what made
her
do what she did, since what I did was perhaps no different from what any other nineteen year old boy with raging hormones would have done, given the opportunity.
Swati was after all a recently married Indian woman in an age when female adultery, apart from being completely taboo was virtually unheard of in our society. Nor was she a slut or an easy lay. It had all started off as innocent flirtation and leg-pulling of a kind she had been doing with me for ages. I don't think she would have done that with any other male acquaintance. Perhaps she thought of me as a "safe" & nice guy to have some innocent fun with and hence became a bit more uninhibited than she intended. But it was a slippery slope that she had stepped onto and had soon reached a point where she couldn't stop herself. I suppose her husband's recent peccadilloes also had something to do with it; although knowing her as I do, she would never have thought of doing it as revenge. If one were so inclined, one could even detect the hand of fate propelling us inexorably forward on our preordained, intersecting trajectories. After all, our encounters had been accidental, not contrived by us.
In the end, I think more than anything else it was the sheer chemistry between us, simmering under the surface for many years that had suddenly burst forth under propitious circumstances. So spontaneously & naturally did it happen and so intense were the passions that we experienced together; neither of us felt any guilt. Instead, the lasting impression in our minds was one of wonder, awe even; as if we had been blessed with a divine gift. Although no words were exchanged, we both knew that this was the beginning of a new chapter in our relationship. Neither of us knew where we were headed, but we looked forward to the future with anticipation…
***
A few days later, my mom told me that Kusumtai (Swati's mother) had invited us to dinner. My mother had begged off, since she had a lot of answer papers to grade. But she had promised to send me (talk about the hand of fate!). She had also told Kusumtai to cook something light & simple, since I was still recuperating from my illness.
***
Kirti, Swati's younger sister was in her last year of high school. She was an even better student than Swati. She was very diligent and hard working, attending coaching classes after school so that she could score well enough in the school leaving examination to gain admission to the best college in town. Kirit, the youngest and the only son was a bit roly-poly, jolly, dreamy, happy-go-lucky boy. Although he eventually proved himself to be the brightest of the lot, he had given no inkling of his future brilliance up until then. At that time he was off on a camping trip with his boy-scout group.
***
"It is open!" I heard Swati shout when I reached her home & rang the bell.
It was around 7 PM. Dusk had just fallen. There was nobody at home except Swati. Her dad Laxmanrao was away (as usual) on one of his long & frequent business trips. Her mom Kusumtai was at her clinic; she was expected to return after 9 PM. Kirti was at her coaching class, expected back by 8:30 PM. Kirit was going to return only the next day. Swati was busy in the kitchen, perhaps trying her hand at cooking some additional dish to supplement the efforts of the cook, who had already left for the day after making dinner.
"Sit down & make yourself comfortable. I'll be out as soon as I have finished kneading this dough." Swati called out, peeping out of the kitchen.
"Alright." I said, taking in Swati's visage. She was dressed in an informal, workaday cotton sari. She also wore a cotton apron that covered her front. She didn't betray any awkwardness about our meeting at my farm a few days back. I did feel a bit shy, though. I also felt nervous & excited, just to hear her voice and be near her again. I tried to distract myself by reading a magazine lying on the center table in the living room.
"Sameer, will you please tie this apron again?" Swati called out.
She stood in the doorway between the kitchen & living room. She held her hands in front of her since they were messy with partly kneaded dough. The knot of the apron had worked loose behind her back. Her face glowed with the sweat of her exertions in the hot kitchen. She was trying to blow back a strand of hair that had fallen across her brow. There was a streak of flour on her cheek. Her bright, expressive eyes looked sexy; there was a peculiar "look" in them.
"Sure." I said.
"Is it OK? I hope it is not too tight." I asked as I stood behind her and securely re-tied the knot of the apron.
"No … I mean yes … I mean it is OK." She stuttered, rather uncharacteristically.
