"Where is Arvind?" the man at the door shouted. He must have been about seventy years old. He was wearing a shirt and a dhoti, which is a white cloth worn around the waist in South India and covers the lower part of the body all the way down to the toes.
Saroja heard the noises outside and came rushing from the kitchen. Who was this asking for her husband so rudely?
Her frown changed to a smile. The man at the door was her husband's uncle. This was the same uncle whose children were Sundar and Gopi. For those who do not recognize these names, Sundar and Gopi were her two nephews. She had taken both of these young men to bed. They had lost their virginity to her. And she had lost her innocence to them. The sex between a woman discovering her sexuality and young men discovering sex could only have been animal and animal it was.
Right now she had been working in the kitchen. Without bothering too much about her disheveled state, she wiped her hands on her sari pallo and walked towards the door to invite him in.
"Welcome, welcome Mama!" she said. He was Arvind's mother's brother.
"Where is Arvind?" repeated the agitated elder. At 70 years age he remained sprightly and fit. As he worked himself to a fury his face reddened.
"Come in and sit down first," pleaded Saroja, a little embarrassed. Neighbors were peering from their balconies and windows. Her previous house was an independent bungalow. It was different there.
Let alone simple things like someone shouting at the main door, some audacious moments could happen in that bungalow. She had deflowered her nephew, exchanged intimacies with her maid and been plundered by the maid's husband. In fact, the maid had treated the nephew to some wild sex as well. All had happened there with discretion. No one knew. No one heard anything. Not even Saroja's husband.
This new place was in an apartment block. If someone stood around and shouted everyone would notice. The shift from house to apartment had happened at Saroja's insistence. She had felt the need to change her locality and put distance between Suguna the maid and her husband Murugesh and herself. While the maid's hands were magical and the husband's sexual prowess and endowment was unique in its combination, Saroja was wise enough to move away.
She had fucked her nephew, done stuff with her maid and filled -- no feasted on the maid's husband. But when the moment passed her usual self took over. No one could be permitted to retain any hold over her. The nephew studied well after the focus she created in his mind by making him familiar with sex. She shifted to a completely different locality. And so the new domestic staff had to be from the new locality.
Problem solved.
"I have not come here to sit down!" shouted the man, creating a scene. Saroja could see her neighbor open the door ajar and peer at the commotion. Others craned their necks from their balconies and up and down the stairwell.
"Mama!" hissed Saroja. "Come in. People are watching!"
"Let them watch! Let them know what kind of new neighbor they have," ranted the old man.
Saroja grabbed his arm and pulled him through the door. "What are you talking? What happened now?" asked Saroja alarmed at his tone. The two families had an excellent relationship and the tone adopted by the uncle was unjustifiable.
"Is Arvind not at home?" thundered the uncle.
"No. He is outstation on a tour," said Saroja. She was too was red now, flushed with embarrassment.
"Well, then, let me ask the witch herself," taunted the uncle.
"What? Unless you tell me what the matter is how can I respond to anything?" pleaded Saroja showing the deference expected in Indian society.
"Did you do things with Gopi and Sundar?" asked uncle.
Saroja reddened ever more and she felt a choking sensation. Not that! She hoped and prayed the boys had the good sense to keep their sexual adventures private and confidential. There were reasons and situations which to her mind justified whatever had happened. But she did not want to have to discuss those with anyone.
"What things?" she stammered. Suddenly she became conscious of her disheveled state. More than the untidiness she was conscious of her blouse which was a tad too small for her. Her sari was not wrapped around her so her torso -- blouse and all -- was open to inspection. Damp patches of sweat made her skin show through. And she had been washing vessels- so water too played its part. She drew her sari palloo around herself trying to appear more decorous.
"Now it is too late to cover anything!" continued uncle with his taunts. As Saroja covered herself, he too took a look at his nephew's wife; by extension she counted as a daughter-in-law. The full breasts, flesh bursting from the ill fitting blouse did not escape his attention. He caught himself assessing her sexuality, but it was her fault. It was natural to wonder if the woman was capable of the things that had been reported to him. He would not know for he had never looked at her in that manner.
But since he had been told of the possible sexual corruption of his sons, he had tried to remember this woman in different terms. However, each time he could only recall her as Arvind's caring wife who looked after his every little need. And equally attentive to his needs as a daughter-in-law of the house. In the same manner that she who would care for her father-in-law in a traditional household.
In fact, he could not recall any specific physical attributes, let alone anything sexual.
On the train trip he took to confront Saroja and expose her to Arvind, he tossed and turned all night. He had always thought the boys were safe in their house. Could it have been her? Was she the type? Or was it someone else the boy's befriended in the neighborhood? But he had been told of some incident in the family wedding the previous year...
His inability to conjure up images of her was now compensated by her physical shape in front of him.
"I don't know what you are talking about," said Saroja as she brushed past him to close the front door. It helped her to avoid looking him in the eye, guilty as she was of solving the problems the boy's faced by giving them the sex they so keenly wanted. She was also guilty of going beyond and indulging herself rather fully. More fully than she had ever sexually encountered her own husband.
As she walked past, uncle took note of her glistening neck covered with perspiration from the humid air. He also smelt her sweaty aroma. And yes, her arm brushed his arm. She seemed like a woman bubbling with sexuality. There could be truth in those rumors.
It suited him as well that they were no longer face to face. He could blurt out what he wanted to confront her with a little easier.
"I am talking about what you did with Sundar when he was here," he said.
