A Safe Place
"
Mere Jaan
, I wouldn't have asked if it weren't for such a dear friend. Nandini has always been there for me." Kiran wore a worried look, absently rolling a bag of gooseberries in her hand. The tart scent of amla lingered in the small kitchen, mingling with the earthy aroma of masoor dal simmering on the stove. She adjusted the pallu of her mustard-yellow cotton saree, the block-printed motifs catching the warm light of the kitchen.
Varun, dressed in a white cotton kurta and jeans, sighed as he unpacked groceries, carefully stacking packets of basmati rice and dals in the cabinets. 'I was just looking forward to a weekend with you, undisturbed for once," he said, brushing his hand along the sleek, laminated countertop. 'We've been working so hard.'
"I know, my love." She slipped the berries into the refrigerator.
"That
harami
, Raj. I shouldn't be surprised that he's using their kids."
With a sigh, his hand slipped to wrap to the small of her back. Her skin was warm to the touch, day's heat having left a light layer of sweat. Her hand drifted between them as she moaned into the kiss. Her hand came to rest of on burgeoning erection. She groaned, "We do need some alone time."
At that moment, the doorbell rang. They exchanged a rueful look as they pulled away.
Varun dusted his hands together and said, "Okay, let's be proper hosts."
Kiran opened the door, her face softening as she saw Nandini. The faint scent of sandalwood and marigold garlands from the small puja shelf by the entrance welcomed Nandini into the flat. She stepped inside, her large bag brushing against a jute rug that softened the cool marble floors. A ceiling fan whirred softly above, its rhythmic hum blending with the distant honks and cries of the neighborhood outside. Without the humming AC, the fan would have done little against the heat.
*******
Kiran led Nandini down the narrow hallway, its beige walls adorned with small, framed Madhubani paintings. 'We don't have many guests, but this room sold us. It's rare to have two bedrooms in a flat in this sector,' she said, stepping aside to let Nandini enter.
The room was simple but welcoming--a low platform bed dressed with crisp sheets, a folded woolen blanket at its foot. A mirror with an intricately carved wooden frame hung on the wall, catching the late afternoon sunlight filtering through muted curtains. On a small folding table by the window, a vase with fresh jasmine flowers added a thoughtful touch. Nandini set her bag down by the bed, already feeling a measure of relief in the tranquil space.
As she washed her face and looked in the mirror, seeing herself looking so raw, she flashed back on the argument the day before yesterday. It had started with Raj following her as she put laundry away, this time nagging at her for misplacing the earrings he wanted her to wear to his business dinner. She was sure that the gold and lapis drops were in the box in her top drawer, so she set aside the towels and opened it to show him. But they weren't there.
He had grabbed her by the upper arm, hard. Frowning down at her, he said, "Those cost a small fortune, dammit. I told you to call Dr. Karin. You're losing it. That's at least the fourth thing this week. You even forgot Samy's lunch yesterday."
No way did that happen
, she told herself again. She
always
checked their backpacks right before they went out the door to make sure they hadn't taken a lunch out to stow a notebook or toy. But Samy's teacher had called. She had doubted herself until she remembered Raj putting the kids backpacks and sports gear in the hatchback "for her." The idea that Raj - the father of her children - was playing games with her chilled her.
Raj's fingers had tightened. "Maybe our kids aren't safe anymore."
His tone of voice, that memory, the crush of his fingers, together they made up the last straw. She had left the house for work and called Kiran on the way. Kiran told her she would have help and a safe place with them as long as she needed. Since all accounts were in Raj's name, except for her "allowance" credit card, this was a huge relief. Then, she had played the dutiful wife and gone to the business dinner wearing the expensive salwar kameez that hid the bruised arm and the earrings that had somehow been found.
Patting her cheeks dry, Nandini closed her eyes, breathed deeply, and prepared to face the friends who were giving her sanctuary.
A little while later, Nandini sat cross-legged on the low wooden settee, a steel thali balanced on her lap. The heady aroma of ghee-laden rotis mingled with the sharp tang of mango pickle as Kiran set a fresh bowl of dal on the center table. "Jeera rice, dal, and some bhindi fry," she said cheerfully as Varun passed her a glass of water.
The carved details of the settee pressed lightly into Nandini's back as she leaned into its armrest, trying to savor the meal. It felt wonderful - and difficult - to share a home-cooked meal with two people still obviously in love after almost a decade together. A wedding photo on a nearby shelf caught her eye--Kiran in a dazzling crimson
lehenga
, Varun looking sharp in an ivory
sherwani
. It was a stark contrast to the casual comfort they exuded now, lounging in their cotton clothes.
Nandini watched Kiran, so fetching, with a long neck, big light brown eyes, and a high brown ponytail, chide her husband that he shouldn't cut his curly hair so short just to please his mother. He had flashed his always winning smile back at her and kissed her fingers. Both of them were good-looking without being glamorous - the kind of attractiveness that you caught after a second glance. Varun wasn't as handsome as Raj. He didn't have the same dark, brooding eyes that she had once found so alluring. Where Raj had the looks of a Bollywood A-lister, Varun was the handsome character actor.
