Geeta was applying makeup in front of the cupboard mirror after plating her hair. She looked beautiful and nowadays was more aware about how she appeared. Her earrings, studded with artificial diamonds, no longer glittered. She noticed it and murmured, "Shopkeeper guaranteed me that it would shine at least a year. Huh...liar."
"Geeta, speed up your decoration or you'll be late. Others are waiting," her mom shouted from the kitchen where she was boiling water for Geeta's father for his bath. "She is wasting time fixing herself as if her future groom were coming to see her," she murmured to herself.
"Yeah mom, just a minute," said Geeta and finished her preparations with a maroon bindi on the middle of her forehead.
She walked out of her home with a steel jar in her hand filled with three storey made of brinjal vegetable at the bottom, five rotties in the middle, and a plastic pouch with buttermilk at the top most. When she reached at her work site, white coloured rottis would catch the red colour of chillies added to the vegetable. At the street her colleagues were waiting for her with a rickshaw. She adjusted herself among twenty others in a space that would normally seat seven. All were going to their work. They were daily labourers for building construction. It was their daily schedule to gather at one place and then depart for the construction site. Geeta's home was near the rickshaw stand, so when all came, at last they called her.
As the driver started the engine, those remaining who had no place to sit clenched the rod behind the rickshaw and placed their feet on whatever they could find to rest them on. Geeta was seated near her best friend, Rekha, but for the last week they hadn't spoken to each other.
The reason was that Geeta was taking too much interest in the site supervisor, Rameshwar, and Rekha cautioned her that he was not a good man. But Geeta felt she was jealous about her closeness with the supervisor, and they quarrelled a lot. Later they stopped talking to each other. If one saw another by mistakes, they made faces to exhibit how one despised the other.
******
"Don't waste much time in smoking. Finish it quickly and start your work."
Yeah, the supervisor, Rameshwar, had arrived. His eyes rested on Geeta who was handing bricks to a mason.
"Geeta, leave this work and come with me," Rameshwar said, one hand rubbing on his bulging fly and other holding his mobile. She quickly walked behind Rameshwar with a joyous countenance. He kick-started the bike, gesturing Geeta to sit. He drove away with her on the familiar road they passed every day except on Sunday, a holiday. She put her hand on his shoulder and she felt like the princess of the world.
The bike stopped at the same hotel where they always went, "Red Rose." The receptionist smiled at Rameshwar as both stepped in. One of the rooms was always booked for the supervisor, since the hotel had few guests. The town had no attractions so the hotel remained almost empty, except for some astrologers and ayurvedic doctors who changed their towns repeatedly each month out of the fear that their false promises would be revealed and their customers would come asking for refunds. They claimed, with utmost sincerity on their faces, that money would be returned if their customers did not get guaranteed results.
Both entered the room and Rameshwar closed the door. It contained a bed and a bathroom, nothing else. And what more they did want? First Rameshwar let her lie with great chivalry and then he took off her shirt and slipped near her. The curly hairs of his chest peeped out of his white vest. Geeta inserted her fingers trying to unroll them. He was in the habit of sucking her tight tits first. He liked them more because, unlike his wife's, they weren't made loose by his children's breast feeding. He unhooked her blouse and bra and her two melons sprang out. He hid his face between them and felt her soft skin. She pressed his head in pleasure. He drove out his tongue and began to slurp. She led one of his hands towards her legs, where her sari ended near her ankle. He inserted his hand to touch her mound. But her moistened knickers blocked his progress. He reached for her waist band and his hand popped in. He searched her swollen labia and then got to his feet. She lay on her back with leg apart, while he laid himself on the top. He thrust, thrust and thrust until he filled her with his cum. He left her and went in the bathroom. It was his practice to bathe each day after sex. Maybe he wished to washed out the sin he recently committed, or maybe he wished to wash out the sexually transmitted diseases (!). Actually no one knew the specific reason. He rubbed his naked back, cherishing the recently enjoyed moments
Later Rameshwar opened the door, wrapping a towel on around his waist. He would wear the same white vest, the same grey brief, the same blue pants and black shirt. He was the same Rameshwar, except now his nuts were emptied.
"When are we going to marry?" Geeta asked, combing her messy hair.
"After I get the divorce," answered Rameshwar, putting on his pants.
"I hear the same answer every month." The joy on her face disappeared.
"You women don't know how complicated the process is. It's not like we are just buying potatoes or going shopping."
"Sometimes I can't help myself thinking you won't marry me." The fear was in the each word spoken by Geeta.
"My darling, my sweet heart, I promise you, we will, one hundred percent." Ramesh stopped buttoning his shirt to hug Geeta. Maybe tomorrow she would not come to the hotel and he would not be able to enjoy her tightness, so pretentions were very important!
******
It was Sunday and she missed her period. She was shocked! What would she do if her guess turned out to be real? And what would society say about an unmarried mother?
"Mom, I'll be back in five minutes" Before stepping out of her home, she had to seek her mother's permission.
"Where are you going?" asked mom, rubbing a stone like detergent soap on the clothes at the washing place.
"To phone Rekha." She had to lie.
"Why are you wasting money? You'll meet her tomorrow." Mom knew how hard it was to gather thread in such a meager income. And that's why she forced her daughter to drop out after completing seventh standard from the school.
"I'll talk only a minute, mom," and she walked out of the house.
She walked down the street and in four minute, she was in the telephone booth. She held the receiver, and dialed the phone numbers written in her palm with ballpoint pen.
