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THE PERVERT



Year 2010:

Ramu, the Indian home help appeared excited, “Sir, your people have arrived!”

Vivek was visibly angry. “Why are you excited about this? And don’t you dare call them my people!”

Ramu was puzzled as he had thought Vivek would be happy to receive his boss and his mistress on tour from India, in his little cottage in Singapore.

Vivek, who was ashamed of his outburst, sighed and thought, ‘If only he knew the facts…”

As he watched the couple alighting from their magnificent car, lovebirds hand in hand, all his hatred and resentment welled up, snowballed and settled somewhere in his throat, choking him.
***
Year 2008:

He watched as his wife of three years, Richa went about her household work. Though not very good looking, she had a great figure. Unknown to his docile wife, Vivek was feeling the heat building up in his loins as he fantasized about wife swapping with friends, group sex, orgies and so on. His only problem was how to initiate this seemingly timid and ordinary woman into this.

Not that he hadn’t tried. He had tried giving hints many times, but she hadn’t somehow grasped what he wanted to convey…and he didn’t have the guts to be more direct.

When he was still figuring out how to broach the subject-so tempting and irresistible-his boss came up with a proposal to post one of his officials in Singapore. Vivek came to know that his was one among the three names being considered for the plum posting. But his boss himself never spoke to him about it and just smiled evasively when asked about it.

Vivek wanted the Singapore posting very badly. But his cunning boss was not letting out who he had in mind. One day, when Vivek blurted out his frustration, his boss asked him, “So you are very keen on this posting, aren’t you?” Before Vivek could answer, he continued in the same breath, “I heard your wife is very attractive. When are you going to introduce her to me?”

Anyone except a moron could have understood the boss’s intentions. Vivek was no moron. In fact, he felt a kichdi combination of shock, resentment and titillation on hearing these words. On one side, he felt offended, as he ought to be, at the depraved and brazen suggestive talk of his boss. On the other side, his own depravity reared its hideous head when he thought of the dual possibilities of getting the plum posting and a sudden, headlong initiation of his wife into…

Vivek would never forget the expression on his wife’s face when he finally mustered the courage to tell her about the boss’s indecent proposal and his desires. She just stood gaping at him with open mouth and very wide eyes, till he felt like shouting at her. He would have much preferred if she had berated him in disgust or thrown tantrums. Instead she just stood there, incinerating him with her silence.

Finally, after a long, very loud silence, she said simply, “Ok, if you so wish. Call him for dinner next week.” That was about the last thing she ever spoke to him probably.

The frostiness in her voice would have made almost any other person do an about turn and shelve the matter. But Vivek was different. His perversion, now reinforced by the desire for the foreign assignment, elbowed out all other feelings.

He called his boss.
***
Year 2009:

Vivek got his dream assignment.

His boss was very happy with him and promised to visit him in Singapore whenever he came there on tour.

Richa left him soon after he got the assignment, leaving a brief note that she had been offered a job as personal assistant by Vivek’s boss and would be joining him. Vivek’s worst fears were realized when he came to know from the grapevine that she had moved in with him.

The quiet, simple homemaker Richa had delivered a stunning blow to Vivek by way of revenge.




  
 


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THE PAINTED VASE

Returning home from work that day, the first thing that grabbed my attention was the painted vase sitting prettily on a side table in the hall.
“Mynah!” shouted I, addressing my eleven year old daughter, “How did this come here?”
“Som bought it for me,” said she, quite simply, leaving me dumbfounded.
“Som!”
“But you hate him!” I said, referring to my new boyfriend whom she detested.
Som had come into my life recently, two years after Mynah’s dad died in a freak accident. He was only 40 then- I was 38.
Mynah shrugged and said, “But he likes me, it appears. That’s why he got it when I told him you refused to get it for me.”
I was left still wondering at the turn of events as her tantrums on seeing him were still fresh in my memory.
Two days later, Som came home during the weekend. He too merely shrugged when I complimented him on winning over Mynah. “Girls like things. You can keep them happy by indulging in these simple things.”
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