Betrayal

Eight months after him, she sat in somebody else’s car. Let somebody else hold her, embrace her, kiss her. Every moment and every movement felt so wrong, yet something that was meant to be. She felt guilt as well as a feeling of liberation. She wonders if she has betrayed him, his being, his memory and the pain his memory always caused.  

She wonders if she has betrayed him and yet also wonders how can she? She had resisted, but she wonders now if she resisted hard enough? And if she didn’t, did she want the other guy’s advances?

Eight months and every memory as fresh as new; every pang of pain as excruciating as day one; every tear another harbinger of the memories of her loss. Just when she was beginning to wonder if she will ever be free, just when she started questioning the fates about the extent of her punishment on this earth, someone stepped in, ever so briefly, and shook her existence of the past several months.

The arms, the lips, the person by her side, were all so strange. Yet the experience was not. She wonders if the other man made her laugh more; gave her more attention and she liked it, did she betray the one before?

She wonders if staying loyal to someone’s memory was more important than opening up to someone new or did it just feel like it?

She remembered in the early days of her loss the doctor prescribed her some medicine to make her feel better. She never took it. She felt if she stopped feeling the pain, if she let the memories get dim, she will betray the person who had been her all. She wonders if letting someone else in is equal to that betrayal.

She wonders if she should have resisted and stayed true to the memory. Yet at the moment, all she felt was a need to apologize for someone else taking his place. Not for a moment did she feel something wrong was happening. It is this feeling of “not feeling guilty” that is causing all the guilt. 

She wonders what defines betrayal and if she has been guilty of it? And if she has, was her love for the first man a lie? Was the pain she feel after him nothing but a mirage?

She wonders if his memory will surround her still. She wonders if she will still catch a glimpse of him in someone’s smile, the breadth of someone else’s shoulders, in a perfect stranger’s frown. She wonders if by being disloyal to his memory she has lost her right to feel incomplete without him, to miss his arms around her, the pressure of his hand on hers, the way his thumb played with her right ear, the way his fingers traced the veins on her hand the way he gave her all those funny names. She wonders if by betraying his memory, she has finally lost him.

She wonders and finds no answer.

The Emperor and His Concubines

They take turns, the rosy cheeks and the pale. The glistening, glowing eyes and shadowed, weary ones. Eagerness born and bred from others like them to their daughters. To please the Master. Making sure his ego is kept well fed. So that he doesn’t feel in-adequate and needs to roar, growl, pounce and break things to mark his superiority.

The Master…So big, so strong! Weak, unsure, insecure. The Lord, the Conqueror.The Mighty Warrior. Playing mind games, sneaking on his belly. Down on all fours, the Mighty King. Looming higher than life it self! Untiring, demanding….time, devotion and servitude. A gentle massage of pride. A thorough, vigorous ego rub. The hot steamy avowals of loyalty and devotion.

The concubines. Bound in sisterhood. Daughters of different yet same mothers, descendants of Eve. Genetically inclined to emotional servitude and humility. If ever there was an existence more confused and warped, it has yet to be made known. Their hearts laden with hopes of a look of approval; a smile of gratitude; a touch of compassion; for a life time of subservience. Their minds loathing every look, every smile every touch. The knowing, condescending, hungry looks. The smirk of a humiliating smile. The loathsome, slimy touch.

The smugness of knowledge….that you have power. Power over another human being. The power to move, shake and break! The arrogance, the possessiveness of a look, a gesture, a touch, a smile. So serpentine, so venomous, yet so addictive. So feeble from the inside that it’s impossible not to stumble with every step. Yet with a surety that every stumbling step mirrors a proud, strutting gait.

The misery of waiting for every day to end. For the night to envelope and hide the humiliation and pain. The painted, scented concubines count the days till their end. The days that reach beyond tomorrows, the endless days that drag the soul, its dignity and self respect through the thorn fields of lust, deception and the knowledge that there is no deliverance. The lives that they are allowed to bring forth every now and then, will be bonded in the same servitude of flesh and soul.

The angry, wounded soul screams for deliverance. Each night is brought to an excruciating end, when rising from the spent passion of the master, and the exhausted soul of the slave, erupt waves after waves of misery and humiliation. Taunting and hauling insults. Not at the master, never him, for he is the almighty, the superior being. But as all things that flow towards the incline, all the acidic hate and loathing is aimed towards the lesser being itself. A feeling that flows over the senses and permeates the blood to an extent that each new generation is born feeling hate, humiliation and a morbid sense of fear for it self that lasts a life time and beyond. Absorbed in the subconscious to an extent, that it becomes genetic and raises a trait that never lets the humiliated, self-loathing being raise its head. It just allow it to follow in the footsteps of its ancestors, numb with pain and lack of dignity, its existence, bound to serving the Master and trying to work out the feeling of shame, till the very shame is passed on to the new being in line. Such is the faith of the concubines that serve their Lord and Master, his lusts and cravings, with all their beings.

A Day in the Life of 'The Other Woman'

The phone battery is down to half. So is the day. He is away on a trip. An undisclosed location, out of range. They talked briefly before he left at dawn. The day is dragging. Minutes are like hours. The hours endless. 14 hours till they last talked. He texts that he’s home. She texts back: “Good baby, rest. Relax, have something to eat.” Silence. More minutes pass. The battery goes further down. Put it on charge? No. He’ll call and she may be away from her desk and miss the call. Time to leave for home.  She texts. No response. She won’t play music on it during the long trip home. She doesn’t want the battery to go down further. He might call. An hour passes. She texts. I’m home baby. Alas, he responds. “Good baby. Great. Very tired. Need to sleep now. Have an off tomorrow. Will sleep late.” 14 hours since they last talked. Since she’s heard his voice. Hours of waiting for his return. Wondering where he is? If everything is ok? If he’s safe? Has he had something to eat?

3 hours of waiting for him to rest and refresh enough to call. Even if just to say goodbye. 16 hours of waiting and a text.

She puts the phone on charge.

The Bitch's Side of the Story

A few days ago they were just texting each other as usual. She got a text from him saying, "It's not safe to text any more. We'll talk in the morning. I love you. Goodnight." And just like that She was left hanging in the middle, and he was gone. The loving warm mood was washed away by the bitter cold water of reality in an instant. And it left her dazed and shocked just as it would any one who is snatched from in front of a warm and cozy hearth and shoved in to a tub full of ice cold water.

That one text sums up her entire relation with him.

She is the woman who is there for his needs that are left unfulfilled by his wife. His wife- the lawful recipient of his love and trust. He gets to talk to the other woman of things beside children, school, bills, medical expenses, broken chairs, leaking pipes and in-laws. The other woman is there when the wife is not.

She provides a service, the wife has all the rights. The wife has and will always have the first right to him. That's why the bitch's heart sinks every day when he texts saying " Time to go home". Because she knows this is all she'll have of him till he leaves his house for something and finds the time to call her or sneak texts when he can. Or till 8 am the next morning when he is ready to leave for work. So, what does that make her? An emotional/intellectual whore who works for her client full time during work hours and is on call for the rest of the day? Shall she sneak in a lover/husband for all of her needs remained unfulfilled? He can sneak a call in at 3 am just because he can't sleep or needs to hear her voice. While she spends hours feeling lonely and in pain, wanting to just hear his voice or some soothing word of love and comfort from him all night long? Knowing she can not call him as he lies with his wife. His wife, who can reach out and touch him whenever she wants, feel the comfort of his presence whenever she wants to? All she has to do is turn in her bed.

She had an accident once. It was late in the night. Every fiber of her being called for him. All she wanted was to hear his voice. The best she could do was load her self with pain killers and sleeping pills and beg God for sleep and oblivion. When she compares her situation with his wife's she wonders who is the unlucky one?

Does it make things easy that they aren't even living in the same city and can't even meet regularly? Does it make things easy that she doesn't have the freedom to call him when ever she want or need to? Does it help that she is a secret that no one knows about? That he keeps her existence hidden. Sometimes even she feel that she does not exist and is just a figment of some one's imagination. She lives in the fear that one day something will happen to him and there will be no one to let her know. Her friends know about him and She knows that if something were to happen to her, he will get to know. Who will tell her? Does it help that every time he is traveling somewhere or is out of telecommunication reach, She has a sword hanging over her head? That every time he doesn't answer her text or falls asleep without saying good night She is up all night wondering what is wrong? That she is not allowed to call him and find out if he's ok? Most of all she knows he has something stable he can always go back to full time. Any day their relation starts effecting the stability of his family life, she'll be out of the equation.. yes, she knows it will not be an easy decision for him. She knows that it will hurt him but wouldn't she just be the finger that he has to cut off to save his whole arm?

Is she doing anything wrong? A part of her knows she is. No matter what, they cannot call a wrong right. On the other hand, he is the way he always was with his family (better in some ways), when he's with them, he's with them, she fades in to the back ground, she makes sure of that. He will never leave them. What sane man would leave a wife, children and a homestead. The stability of a family in an extremely family-oriented society?

As for his relations with his wife, they live the way any other way than the majority of our couples live. They live together, they sleep together, eat on the same table, visit their family and friends, take vacations, go on picnics and outings, they have three children together, they have sex like any other couple (meaning when and if the lord and master wishes) and he pays for their home, education, food, clothes and all other needs.

If none of that changes then what is the other woman taking away?

What he and his wife don't have is friendship, a mutual understanding of each other beyond that of their role as husband and wife, as parents to their children. Any spark or emotions they had for each other are long gone and what they both hold on to now is the stability of their home and children. Who knows if they ever mourn what they have lost or may be never had in the first place? Being married to some one is a lot more than what they and many like them have.

That is one of the reasons the bitch would rather stay single. Why go through all the hassles? Just to settle in a similar existence? Where all she cares about is the semblance of a family facade that she has to maintain in the society? Pray for the welfare of her husband because he provides her social and economic security? Is that all he is good for? What is her home then? A place run by the invisible hand of fate where a number of characters live, fulfill their roles and duties. At first they find charm in it all. Eventually the charm fades and the mundane sets in and if mundane is the dusty brown of the desert sand, then that is the colour of their lives. For ever and ever more or till fate decides to change it.

Where is love? Where is companionship? Where is feeling the warmth of a smile seep in to your soul and brighten your day? Where is the feel of a hand on your hand? Where is the snuggling in the middle of the night? Where is the shoulder you can lay your head on and let go of the weariness of the long and tiring day? Where is the hug that takes away all the drudgery of everyday existence? Where is the kiss that makes you feel so content that nothing else matters?

When they first got involved, he would just sit in his room most of the time he was at home. He is a social recluse by nature and wouldn't go out on weekends with his family. She'd push him to spend more time with his family, go out with them on weekends..,maybe out of guilt.

It meant less time with her. It meant they sometimes had to say good night as early as 9 pm. It hurt and she was left feeling lonely most nights. But it eases her conscience that he is spending more time with his family.

She has tried to change him. She knows she can't do it and it's beyond her abilities and anyway who is she to tell him how to behave with his wife when she is the one stabbing her in the back? Taking her man away from her- even if not physically? So why does it hurt, why does she feel left out and wronged when he does show his wife the courtesy now and doesn't text as much or call while he is at home and she is around? She didn't like it when he did and did all she could to discourage him.

Oh it is a mess isn't it? So why doesn't she just get the hell out and leave the man to his wife and kids? Because she loves him. Because he loves her. Because he cares for her. He is the one man who accepts her for who she is and does not judge her. For whatever amount of time that they get together, he makes her feel good, cherished and loved. Because, She has never been loved by a man like this. Because she likes the man he is when he is with her. Because she loves the way he laughs. She loves to hear the years shed off him when he laughs. She know he doesn't laugh like that with any one else. May be his children. But not quite. She loves the feeling of being spoiled by him. Because believe it or not, it has taken her 34 years to find him.

"A mighty pain to love it is, and 'tis a pain that pain to miss; but of all the pains, the greatest pain is to love, but love in vain." Abraham Crowley.