The Salt on my Lips

The afternoon was sultry and Ronita lay tossing and turning in bed; summers in Kolkata or rather India was not the best times to come visiting your family. But with a 10-year-old daughter, your schedule revolved around school, piano classes, swimming days, and the rest…..

Today Ma had invited Raj for lunch and as was the tradition with Indian households, Raj was made to eat till he choked. Accustomed to the relatively quieter environs of his Sydney bachelor pad, he was overwhelmed by the fuss. The close cousins, the food, the heat, and the fact that Bonita was not there to act as the cordon, left him totally hassled. Ronita had felt sorry for him; the poor guy did not know what an atypical (read huge, noisy, boisterous, emotional, and all other extremes…) Bengali family he was getting married into.

Bonita, when she knew that her internship would coincide with Raj’s coming to India, had told her, ‘Didi, please see that they don’t scare him off.’

Ronita had tried her best, today, to save him from the numerous questions that were volleyed at him….and surprisingly none of them came from Ma, who ideally should have been the most concerned person.

The day had left her tired and after Raj left, and the excitement had subsided, she had come up to lie down. She had taken off her sari (the nine-meter-long material that Indian women wrapped sensuously around their bodies) and closed the door. It was too hot to put on anything. There was no air-conditioner in this room. This heat was getting to her. Tomorrow was Monday, she would call up the shop and order the AC…she made a mental note. The ceiling fan whirred but the circulated air was hot. She got up and went to the bathroom. Taking off her bra and panty, she stepped under the shower. ‘Ohh God…this is so hot,’ she muttered. Even the tap water was unbearable. She decided to run the water in the tub……and leave it to cool. Wrapping a towel…..she came out and once again flopped on the bed.

There is something inevitable about nakedness, the thought drifted through her mind; you felt like touching yourself. Her hands made their way towards her breast….stomach…thighs…….as the fingers moved lightly over the roundness of her breasts, the nipples started hardening. Ronita shivered and started rubbing her thumbs slowly over her nipples. The dark pellets seem to jerk up…stiff and eager for a warm tongue….how long it has been…Ronita felt the moistness between her legs and slowly her hand moved down the small rise of her stomach…. her fingers parted the swollen lips…sticky….and with languorous deliberateness moved slowly into the molten paradise of her being. She gasped in delight…playing around..slowly and then with a measured tempo…Squeezing her nipples with the other hand…her fingers moved faster in deft strokes. She squirmed on the bed…moaning and gasping….till she shuddered and came in a wave of exquisite joy…the lava pouring out…When she opened her eye, she found herself staring at Raj’s handsome young face……

‘I am totally frustrated,’ she admonished herself; ‘thinking about your younger sister’s boyfriend….can’t get worse.’

This may not have happened, if Raj had not said, ‘I can’t believe you are Bonita’s older sister, you look like twins.’ This may have been taking things a little too far, an overt attempt to get into Ronita’s good books, but it had the effect of a pebble rippling the calmness of her mind. If things are taken from an unbiased perspective, Ronita did have that something you couldn’t quite put your fingers on….call it oomph…call it a sexy sensuousness…she affected men…of course a certain kind. At 34, with shoulder-length thick black hair, dark eyes, and a million-dollar smile, Ronita Sen was definitely someone who would make you turn around for a second look. At 5’4”, and weighing close to 120 pounds, she cut a fuller figure than was the fashion, with enticing curves that were quite appealing. Her dark eyes flashed when she smiled and the slightly pouted lips were very ‘kissable,’ as someone had said long back.

‘I never asked his name,’ thought Ronita, as her eyes welled up with tears…..

She was then 21, just out of college, and going to Delhi. Shibu mama was Ma’s younger brother and his daughter was almost Ronita’s age. They had been planning to meet, for a long time, and finally, it was happening. Ma and Baba had come to the station to see her off on the night train to Delhi. Bonita was at home since she had to get up early for school the next day.

Ma was very anxious; Ronita was on her lone maiden journey. Baba went on pacifying her, ‘Mitul, don’t fret like this. It’s only in India that we are over-protective of our children…..look at Binu’s daughter independently travelling from the US to India to meet her grandparents. The world is opening up Mitul…you cannot afford to hold on to them.’

Ronita settled herself in the window seat; the recliners were plush and comfy, with tray tables at the back of each seat. Ma had made lots of goodies that Shibu mama liked; they were in her overhead bag. She had wanted to pack Ronita’s dinner, but baba had restrained her. ‘They serve sumptuous dinner on the train…..Ronny would enjoy it.’

The train gave a slight jerk and pushed out of the station like a mammoth pre-historic animal pushing its massive mass before it took off on a run. Ronita could see ma and baba waving, as she peeped out of the dark windows. She waved her hand slightly, more as an impulse. As the platform vanished and the squalor of the wagon shed and engine yard loomed up, Ronita moved from the window…her elbow knocked inadvertently against her co-passenger and a voice said, ‘‘Ohh!! that hurt…..’

‘Sorryyy….I did not realize someone was sitting….I..I…,’ she was stammering and red in the face; her elbow had hit him straight on the chin.

He looked upset. ‘It hurt see,’ he said and pushed his face towards her. She backed off alarmed; still holding on to his chin, he said, ‘I hope nothing is broken…you do have a strong arm,’ obviously enjoying her discomfort.

It was then that Ronny became angry ‘Don’t you laugh….and serves you right if you are hurt.’

She did not have time to say more as the conductor had come and was asking for her ticket. The attendant came next with a packet that held a small pillow and a clean blanket. Ronny looked out of the window; the darkness was dark and not a thing could be seen. In non-air-conditioned trains (The Indian railways ran both varieties), you could see the shadow of the train, the lighted windows, and the dark interspaces, rushing across the ground outside. But here in the cool confines, the world was shut off. The stewards had started appearing with the appetizers; tomato soup, soup sticks, buns and butter. Ronita felt cheerful as she took her tray and placed it on the tray table. A confirmed foodie like her baba, this was one thing that never failed to make her happy…..

‘Are you eating bread with butter or butter with bread?’ came a half-amused voice from her side.

‘I will eat whatever I want,’ retorted Ronny, ‘please don’t concern yourself.’

‘But aunty told me to take care of you…didn’t you know? She caught hold of me on the platform and told me that you were travelling for the first time on your own and I should chaperone you….,’ her co-passenger replied.

‘Rea

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lly? She told you th….’ Ronny stopped midsentence; those dark brown eyes were full of mirth and laughing at her….

 ‘Yoouuu…..,’ she choked on the tangy tomato soup and started coughing…..

‘I am sorry, I really am….please have some water…..’ the voice was concerned and apologetic.

Ronny had some water and once back to normal, turned around to face the stranger, ‘I would greatly appreciate it if you can stop talking, let me have my soup before it turns cold and save your wit for someone, who can handle it better….’

Ronny had dozed off…….the delicious smell of tandoori chicken nudged her to wakefulness.

‘They are serving dinner so soon…’ he said.

Ronita refrained from commenting and eagerly took her tray from the steward.

‘Are you hungry? I can’t eat just yet….’

‘Well, that’s your problem, I really can’t help you with that,’ came Ronny’s curt reply.

‘I said I was sorry….friends…???’

‘You really can’t keep quiet…can you?’

‘No, that’s actually a manufacturing defect…’

Ronny couldn’t help but smile. The young man appeared really sorry and was doing his best to be friendly. Turning to face him, she had her first good look at him. He was tall, you could make out even with him sitting. A broad forehead, hair cut crew-style, a square jaw, dark brown eyes…in all a pleasant look….with just a ‘small’ personality flaw, thought Ronny.

‘I am usually not so boisterous…but when you parted from your parents, I was watching and I could make out that you were nervous. Just couldn’t ignore that urge to have fun….hope you will not take this in a different way. I am going back to my college in Delhi. Where are you going?’

And, so started an acquaintance that went on through the night…. till the wee hours of the morning, which saw Ronita sleeping peacefully with her head on those strong shoulders….

They seemed to have a common interest in movies and started by discussing the latest flicks. Kubrick and Ray were his God and soon Ronny found herself asking questions. He was very well-informed. Ronny on her part spoke of the contemporary Indian film directors, who were making waves with ‘New Cinema.’ They had a huge collection at home, thanks to Baba, and Sunday evenings were planned movie times, either on the big screen or at home. The topic moved from movies to travelling; none of them had traveled much but hoped to do so in the future. The ‘fairy chimneys’ of Cappadocia, a ‘gondola’ ride in Venice, a safari at Yellow Stone, a drive along ‘the Great Ocean Road’….the list spanned continents…and they travelled across space and time. He was at the NDA and would graduate after two years to join the air force. ‘I hope the country does not go to war….then I can just be engaged in peacekeeping…and travel around the world.’ His parents were divorced and his mom stayed in Kolkata. His dad had married again and moved off to Canada. Once in a while, there was a phone call, distant and duty-bound. He held no grudges but was sorry for his mother, who at 45 was too young to lead a single life.

‘Do you have a boyfriend?’ he asked, out of the blue…..

He had a crush on the Admiral’s daughter….she had a crush on Gregory Peck.

‘But he’s from the black and white era…’ he exclaimed in mock concern.

‘So what….crush knows no age,’ she replied with a deadpan face.

She had started enjoying the slightly mad edge to their conversation. Many years later, sitting with Ma at her Chicago downtown apartment, she had spoken about that night; the only time and to the only person.

Ma had been visiting her; Baba had passed away, and Ronny had forced her to come back with her, even if for a while. Bonny had just joined college and had stayed back with a friend, promising to come after her exams were over. Ma had taken Baba’s death very badly. They were close, having spent 48 years of their life, through the initial hiccups to see better days. Ronny too was missing Baba, but Ma’s loss was much deeper….the loss of a friend.

‘I never had a friend in Nikhil…’ Ronny had thought……she knew it was not fair to think this…..her marriage to Nikhil was a compromise that both went into knowingly. Ronita had been going through a breakup, and Nikhil needed to marry an Indian girl, to please his father and get a share of their family business. It was not as if they hated each other...they liked each other’s company….enjoyed an occasional binge on the bed…..went to social gatherings…..but they were not in love with each other…there was no place for trust, respect, camaraderie….not after they had made marriage a working contract. Ronny blamed herself as much as she blamed Nikhil.

She had never asked the stranger his name that night....or the contact number of his Kolkata residence….Oh! how many times in the past years she had wanted to call him….ask him to come to her….she did not care for the Admiral’s daughter on whom he had a crush…..

‘It was strange Ma…that night…it was as if the last few hours had opened up a side of me I never knew…’ Ronny said, as she lay with her head on her mother’s lap. ‘I felt as if I had known him for years….I did not snatch away my hand when he took it into his….he said he could read the palm….I went along with his pretence…just because it felt so nice….the touch of his fingers on mine….the light strokes, as he moved them on the lines….his soft voice saying that I would fall in love with an Indian Air Force pilot….his telling me that his mother loved fish in mustard sauce….that he had a sweet tooth….’ Ronny’s voice was an inaudible whisper…‘the lights had dimmed and as he took my face in his hands, he said, ‘you have such kissable lips…’ His lips had touched mine, ever so softly, hesitatingly…I pulled his head down….not able to control myself…..I opened my mouth willingly, wanting to drown in ecstasy…..our tongues explored each other….his hand moved down my shoulders…brushed against my breasts….I would not have stopped him, I knew. He had broken off suddenly and held his head back a little, looking into my eyes…’Ronny…..you have flecks of violet in that blackness…’ he desperately searched for something to say…..all the while bringing his passion under control……

‘Ma, I have thought of that night from time to time…..wondering what would have happened, if we had left open the option to get back to each other….if we had not gambled with fate…..would life have been better? At that point in time I had taken it as part of my brush with adulthood…not attaching much relevance….more like a one-time thing….most of my friends had already been through such fleeting casual flings….me too…you remember Vicky?....yes, I and Vicky would kiss and touch…..but those were experiments most of us did…. That night was different….I have never shared so deeply with a stranger…so completely….without doubt….as if he was an extension of me.’ Ronny had poured out her heart to Ma.

It was then that Nikita, her daughter, then four, had woken up, crying; ‘Oh!!! my baby….’ Ronny had whispered and got up to run next door. ‘Oh!!! My baby……’ Ma had said in anguish, unknown to Ronny.

The water in the tub had cooled down. She slowly immersed her burning body in it. Like a lover the water embraced her, cooling her skin….dousing the fire…hiding the tears….but the salt remained on her lips….a silent witness.