He Came to Stay - 10. Chapter 10

TEN
Till date I don’t understand the tryst that the goddess of sleep has with Ishan; I still wonder what sort of relationship they may share so that whenever he leaves me with a conceited heart she also goes with him leaving me in an insurmountable melancholy and loneliness. I spend my nights rolling on the bed, and looking at the ceiling fan with all sorts of strange ideas and rust out thoughts about him gathering from every corner of my mind. I can’t live without him. The very possibility that I can see him, if I want to, just by giving him a call, brings solace to my afflicted heart. When he leaves me, he leaves with all that I treasure, all that interest me, my music, my dreams, everything. Life becomes a huge cacophony; the RAGA-s that I try to play on my violin lose their melody, even my relation with the people around me, gets tarnished. On such an earlier occasion I offended Diya and am afraid that someday my relation with Avijit will also get disturbed by it as well.

I have noticed one thing in the last few months that whenever I had a problem with Ishan, I tended to cut contact with Avijit, though inadvertently, lest he should guess my feelings about the latter. I was reeling under the dilemma whether I should come out with my story and tell him what sort of emotion I have developed on Ishan. He had got every right to know all about my life, as we are in a relationship. Yet on a second thought I refrained from divulging my story, since I was afraid that after hearing it he might leave me forever, though it was very unlikely for a guy like him that he should leave me on the issue of my having a soft-corner in my heart for Ishan, as he loved me a lot. Perhaps he would be able to understand me; perhaps he would be able to forgive me knowing that I invested all my strength in controlling my emotions. Still I was scared as I couldn’t afford to take that risk when I needed his support badly. At times I wondered if I loved him at all or simply was taking him as a mental cushion to absorb the shock I receive by jolting over the harsh terrain of forbidden relationship with Ishan.

This time after Ishan parted I felt his need again. I knew that he would arrive at the earliest opportunity if I gave him a call. But I was feeling guilty about my silence over my feelings about Ishan. I felt within me the urge of telling him how much I loved Ishan and what the exact nature of my relationship with Ishan was. In spite of being too young, younger than me by more than a decade, and inexperienced, he could understand that I remained depressed when Ishan would not be with me, or so I suppose. But he could hardly understand the exact nature of my attachment with Ishan. Perhaps, it never occurred to him that I might have a sexual desire towards my cousin. He knew me as a decent guy and it is not very likely that a matured guy like me would fall in love despite having a steady boyfriend and that also with his own cousin.

Heavy rain lashed the entire city since noon resulting in water logging and traffic congestion throughout the city. That, however, was not the reason why I kept myself confined in my room. I have always been fascinated by rain and often braved it to reach my office, or to some other destination, that also not being compelled by any necessity but simply enjoying it. The rainy season has a special significance both for the Indian psyche and the classical literature as it is the season of fecundity, the season of lovemaking, the season of leisure, and the season of creativity. Being an agricultural society India has always depended heavily on the monsoon, for that is the time for the cultivation of its main crop, paddy. The farmer will take his bulls and the plough to his field early in the morning, work the entire day with a little break in between when his wife and their children, three, four, five,…, I don’t know how many of them, coming with a bowl of boiled rice, an onion and a few green peppers, or if he can afford, then also a lentil soup and boiled potatoes with it along with a jug of water for him. He will enjoy his lunch having his family around. In the evening he will return tired, have a body massage from his children or his wife, but in the latter case at least not in the public. He should never come closer to his wife during the daytime or at any public place, that being censured works like a taboo for all Indian societies. Lovemaking is always a hush-hush affair and is meant only for procreation. When the lights are off he will order his wife in a subdued voice to give him a massage, and she will happily comply considering it to be her sacred duty. Then after sometime they will start making love, not always because they feel the urge to do so or because they enjoy it very much, but because it is almost like a ritual for them and because they rightly believe that having more copulation increases their chance of having more number of male offspring, which is viewed as good as having a bank balance. Their conviction is understandable in the context of an agricultural society where number matters, as they provide more working hands.

The months of July to September are the months when no battles were to be fought in the ancient times due to the lack of the vehicular movement caused by the poor condition of country roads. Solders mostly spending their leisure at home would make love with their wives. The poets enchanted by the songs of cuckoo will sit to write poems of love. The fiddler and the flutist along with other musicians would compose new songs on MEGH-MALLHAR, or DESH, both RAGA-s capturing the rhythm as well as the solitude and destitution of rain. However, this time in my solitude I was in no way enchanted by the rhythms of the rain. I was suffering a lot since I did what may be viewed as an act of banishment of Ishan by me from my house. Definitely, at that moment I wanted to hurt him to pay him back the pain that he had afflicted upon me, but honestly speaking, I didn’t want to part company with him as I knew very well that I won’t remain well without him. Still I did what I did. At that moment my affronted self didn’t find any option other than having a complete detachment from him as it was baffled as to why it should feel affronted at what Ishan did! Having no cue to a definite answer to this question it discerned the root cause of its suffering to be my attachment with him and surreptitiously prompted me to have a lack of involvement with him.

Had I been unjust to Avijit, who as innocent as he was about the intricacies of my relation with Ishan, had always been with me in ups and downs? Still I ignored him all along in my fear of letting him know about my incestuous desires and in the process losing him forever. Looking at the windowpane opaqued by rain I decided that I should communicate with Avijit, though I needed an excuse to do so after so many days. I tried hard to find an excuse, but of no avail. At last it occurred to me that nothing would be a better excuse than telling him the truth. Besides sooner or later he was going to know the truth. So it would be better that gradually I let him know everything. Though I was well aware of the possible outcome of his coming to know about my feelings about Ishan, yet I decided to let him know, at least up to some extent. I couldn’t possibly tell him much, as there was not much to tell. Nothing so special happened between us that might be discussed or disclosed. Almost everything was transparent, though not exactly everything. This little bit of secret of my heart was so subtle, so agonizing, and at the same time so dear to my heart that I could hardly share it with anybody, Avijit included, neither did I want to share. I decided to give him a clear hint and leave it up to him to discover.

Just contrary to me Avijit was a complete movie buff. He often used to request me to accompany him to some theatre to watch his favorite movie, a request which more often than not I politely turned down. Of late he was nagging me for going with him to watch AVATAR, a 3-D movie, in which case I couldn’t refuse him altogether, since I had not watched a 3-D movie for many years and was interested in watching it, all the more so because it was a James Cameron movie. I gave him a call and said, ‘being confined at home due to rain I was getting bored. So I thought that we should go to watch AVATAR. Are you free this evening for the movie? We will have our dinner out.’ He paused for a while before saying ‘are you okay? Is it you Sumanda asking me for watching a movie? I can’t believe it!’
--Stop pulling my legs. You are coming and tell your mom that you are going to have the dinner with me.
--When?
--Come by 5 at my place, we will go together.
--Okay.

He arrived at quarter to 5 when I was still getting ready. As he arrived I gave him a bear hug and pointing towards the sofa asked him to sit down. Not beyond my expectation he was rather eager to go for the movie as he said ‘no… gear up; we need to get going for the movie as early as possible.’ I kept on dressing up within the range of his keen observant eyes.

The movie was pretty good and the visual effects were marvelous, yet I could hardly concentrate on the storyline. After an hour or so when the movie was still going on I said ‘Avijit, I’m not feeling well, may I have your leave?’ he immediately caught my hands and said ‘the movie is not that important. I was seeing since I came that you were not quite well. Let’s move from here right now.’
We caught a cab and returned home. On our way Avijit asked the driver to stop near a busy crossing. I frowned ‘Now what?’
--Won’t you take anything for dinner?
Yesss, I forgot that we had a plan to take the dinner outside. I, being the host, should have remembered, instead of him reminding me about it. Avijit must have stopped up his meal at home for the night. I was so depressed and so much busy handling the suicidal tendency that I inherited from my parents that I forgot such an important event only to implicate myself in an embarrassing situation. I was about to give an excuse, but he seemed not to be interested in it, as he had already crossed the road towards the eateries on the other side of the road. I wanted to inform him that I didn’t have any apatite and would prefer not to take anything for dinner, but the person whom I wanted to convey that message was already visible at the eatery shop at the furthest corner of the road. I could bet my fortune that he would return with lot of food, and, pointless to say, I was not mistaken; he quite generously refrained from giving my ailing soul the pain of being surprised at any changed behavior-pattern of his boyfriend.

When we returned home Avijit laid me on my bed and sat beside me. ‘Why don’t you take leave for some days from your office and pay a visit to your aunt?’
--There is a lot of pending works at my office. I have already taken a lot of leave, as I was not doing well since the last few months. Besides I don’t like to visit my relatives.’
--Your health is much more important than these considerations, I think. If you don’t feel comfortable to visit your aunt’s place then go elsewhere, but you should have a change.
--you are right, but I was working on a new story for a website.
--Which story? Your story is certainly not more important than your health.
--Yes, I know that. But it’s a story about three of us; I shall forget its details, the finer emotions with all its nuances, if I don’t write it down right now.
--Three? Who are they? You, Ishan and me.
--is it an autobiography?
--Not exactly. But a bit autobiographical you can say. For the interest of my readers I have made the story a bit erotic to turn it into a triangular love story. The main protagonist, that is myself, is interested in Ishan.
--And what about Ishan?
--He is an innocent guy totally ignorant of my feelings about him, nor does he seem to have any gay intentions. He is confused about the occasional advances by his elderly cousin brother, whom he loves and respects just as his mentor and minder.
--But if Ishan comes to know about it?
--He will never know.
--Still, suppose he comes to know about it!
-- Well, in that case I’ll tell him that it is just a story.
--Do you think that he will be convinced?
--Yes, of course! He trusts me blindly and can hardly believe that I could have such a feeling about him. Secondly, what is more important, he is miles away from reading; books seldom interest him. Looking for gay storied on the net is not his cup of tea. Still, do you think I am being unjust to him?
--What for? A story is a story in the first place. Besides, you are not going to write anything wrong about him. I know how much you love him and can’t even imagine that you will do anything wrong to him.

His last words inadvertently replenished the pain, which I was trying too badly to overcome with his help. With all my efforts I concealed it from the world for so many days only to find myself tormented at the end of the day. Unable to bear the gigantic pressure of this bit of tiny secret in my heart I wanted to give him a clue, which I don’t know if he could pick up to unravel the mystery that was lurking behind it. Yet I did as much as I could in the situation, and what appeared to be the most appropriate course of action at that moment.

(To be continued....)