In that great, gabled country home with its Flemish brick
façade and trimmed privet, Kiara lay on a giant, soft bed beside Jose, agitated
and sleepless. Her fingertips explored the distinguished line of his neck; his
eyes; his cheekbones. She kissed his hair, remembering a word Jose had
mentioned earlier: closure. She gathered it meant peaceful resolution of the
past. The infinite possibilities of the word enthralled her, but its reality,
difficult and gangly, left her disappointed. She had abandoned Dehradun and
come to Delhi to be rid of her past. In that big city, she had fallen in love,
and in friendship. She was in love with Sam, a man of regal stature and her
boss. A perfect bachelor, he had swept Kiara off her feet. She had been head
over heels for him only to realize later how he had been using her, all the
while, for pleasure while his family planned a big, fat wedding with a rich
tycoon’s daughter. When the world had exploded in her face, she had fled to
Spain, to grow anew a skin that had been peeled by what she had secretly come
to think of as ‘strange events of Delhi’.
Now she lay listening to the glacial wind hammer the
leafless firework of ivy against the window and the Labradors snore outside the
bedroom door. This life was entirely unlike that which she had known, but its
unfamiliarity did not divest her of the affinity she continued to feel for
Delhi; in fact, if anything, it seemed to solidify her resolve to return.
She tilted herself on her side, closer towards Jose, and put
her head on his chest. She had started to love him and knowing this broke her
heart. Shutting her eyes, she could see the buildings, and vehicles racing, she
could see the deer park’s lake, the leafless trees and marigolds floating upon
its dirty, chartreuse waters; she could hear the aluminium canisters rattle on
Atlas cycles manned by absurdly athletic milkmen. She believed she could now go
back to Delhi although it was nothing more than a catalog of her failures. Because some people were meant to shepherd
you to different shores, and some people brought you back to familiar ones.
She kissed Jose, feeling grateful. He had been her shelter
in the cold country. Jose woke up and kissed her. She responded quickly. His
tongue moved from her mouth to her neck, travelling down her chest, her navel,
hipbone, seeking scholarship of her body. But if he knew she was thinking of
leaving him, of returning to India, to Delhi, what would he say? Would he hit
her? Would he turn away, dress up and walk out? Or would he laugh and go back
to sleep?
Perhaps Sam had been the same way, committing treacheries
within kisses, and so now she passed on
the deceptions she had received.
