Page 21 of No Other Love
Vikrant’s mother’s face fell.
I felt bad for the woman despite my best intentions. It wasn’t the way I wanted this week to begin, with Vikrant’s mother feeling hurt.
I touched Vikrant’s forearm and felt it tense under the tee shirt he wore. ‘Vikrant, maybe your mom can help us. She knows all the traditions better than me anyway.’ I smiled uncertainly.
He held my eyes a second longer, all intense and hot. And the spit dried in my mouth. ‘No,’ he said as shortly as before. ‘This is our festival now. We make our own traditions.’
Then he went back to eating his fish curry and rice like he hadn’t rocked my world with five little words.
Ten
Vikrant
‘Ouch. This ladder’s wobbly,’ Anika said three hours later, trying to reach one end of the living room ceiling. She held a colorful dupatta-scarf in one hand and had sellotape bits stuck on her nose.
She turned and stretched on her toes. Managed to brace the dupatta on the ceiling and stuck the sellotape, so it stayed in place. The sari rode low on her hip, so her waist was in profile, the belly button glistening with sweat.
My mouth actually watered as I saw it. I closed my eyes and prayed to all the gods for forbearance. Watching Anika move about in that silly sexy excuse of a sari and be so cheerful and enthusiastic was heartbreaking.
And arousing.
And driving me slowly insane.
‘That looks pretty no, Sagar?’
She turned again and beamed at Sagar, the teenager who was wearing a slightly hangdog expression. The boy had probably never seen a woman be so openly uninhibited and still jock about.
Anika had made Sagar and me do all the sweeping and mopping while she laid out the decoration plans and went about turning the living room into a mini-Ganpati altar. We had done as she asked because it was best to not argue with the woman in charge.
It was turning out beautifully well – the soft, chiffon dupattas (hers with a few borrowed from Smita) gave the whole place a diffused rainbow-like feeling. Themandal– altar - itself was two wooden planks decorated with the traditional rangolis (designs made from color powder) that my wife insisted on doing herself.
It touched my heart to see her struggle with the fine powder used to make the rangolis.
Finally, she’d given up and called my aunt to create them.
A few hours of hard and creative work later, and we were almost done with all the decorations, apart from arranging the visitor’s silver puja plate.
***
Anika climbed down the ladder cautiously, holding the pleats of her sari in one hand and the stepladder continued to wobble.
Without being aware of it, I moved forward and caught the stand of the ladder. Steadied it. ‘Careful, Ani,’ I husked out. For extra measure, I placed a hand on her leg and steadied her too. The sari slithered around my touch, and I wanted to slide it up further. Reveal her shapely calf and then go all the way up till I reached…
‘Thanks, Vik.’ Her soft words broke my teenage horny boy fantasy.
She got down without further incident and smiled up at me. ‘I was sure I’d stumble and fall and hit my head.’
‘I wouldn’t let that happen,’ I said. ‘Not ever.’
Staring at her moving lips, like a man possessed. There was a tiny drop of sweat at the corner of her lip. I wondered whatshe’d do if I leaned in and licked at it. Maybe she wouldn’t totally murder me…
‘I wouldn’t blame you if you did,’ she said softly.
I gripped the edge of the ladder, and she moved closer. Then she touched my shirt, and I went a little dizzy. Anika was touching me voluntarily.
‘You dropped food on the shirt,’ she said, just as softly as before.
‘Yeah.’God, I sounded drunk.