ignored this. ‘Why don’t you come?’ she went on. ‘He lectures on the Gita at Gandhi Bhavan. He teaches you how to accept things, how to look inside yourself, how to deal with your wants and desires. There are lots of young girls there.’
‘I don’t want to look inside myself‚’ said Astha.
‘Well, I am learning a lot from him. Through him I understand the Gita, it is something I have wanted to do all my life.’
‘Really? How come I didn’t know?’
‘Where was the time or place to say I want this or that?’
‘And now you have a swami? Is that what you wanted time for?’
Astha’s mother looked offended. ‘Why don’t you come and see before you start your criticising?’
*
That evening Astha said to Hemant, ‘Ma has found some swami. She wants me to go to him and look inside myself.’
‘Rubbish. These people just try and sound clever.’
‘That is what I said.’
‘Who is this man?’
‘I don’t know.’
Hemant looked alert. ‘One has to be careful around swamis‚’ he said. ‘Thank God I am handling her money.’
‘I know‚’ said Astha, her wretchedness increasing. ‘But what can I do?’
‘Somebody is putting ideas into her head. People think old women are easy targets.’
‘She doesn’t listen.’
‘Don’t worry sweetheart, once we have a child, she will forget all this nonsense. There will be a new interest in her life.’
Astha smiled her agreement.
Loving Hemant as she did, Astha longed to get pregnant. During sex she imagined his seed spurting into her womb; later she would gather his wet shrivelled penis, adoring it strong, thick and hot, or wet, limp and woebegone. ‘I want to have your baby‚’ she would murmur.
‘You can’t be so old fashioned‚’ remonstrated the progressive husband. ‘This is like villagers, marry, impregnate wife, pack of children. No, no sweetheart, we need to be by ourselves. Time enough for these responsibilities later. With a young wife one can afford to wait.’
Astha looked at him in admiration. Everything about him was so masculine, his decisiveness, his hairy blunt fingers, his tall heavy set figure, his muscled limbs, his moustache that tickled, the bitter tobacco taste from his tongue.
‘These ideas are all from America‚’ said his parents, refusing to see the value of bonding time for the young couple. They had married, now they should get on with it.
*
It was two years before Hemant relented, two years before Astha could stop using birth control, two years before his seed found its home.
Astha and Hemant drove to Jangpura on their weekly visit, full of the good news.
‘Ma‚’ said Hemant, ‘You are going to be a nani.’
Tears filled the mother’s eyes. ‘If only he had been here‚’ she said.
Astha thought of her father and felt sad. He had sent her forth, and then left, duty done.
‘Ma, this is a time to celebrate‚’ reproached Hemant.
‘Beta, you are right. May it be a boy, and carry your name for ever. A great son of a great father.’
Astha thought her mother was overdoing it.
‘But Ma, I want a daughter‚’ said Hemant.
‘That’s true, Ma‚’ repeated Astha, ‘He wants a girl.’
‘In America there is no difference between boys and girls. How can this country get anywhere if we go on treating our women this way?’
There was no mistaking the admiration in both women’s eyes.
*
Astha enjoyed every aspect of her pregnancy. As it advanced, she became more and more bucolic. Teaching was an effort, and she had no energy for any extra activity. At home she slept most of the time.
Hemant adored what was happening to her. ‘My wife is becoming a woman before my very eyes‚’ he said passing his hands over her belly, large and full, over her breasts, certainly larger and fuller than they had ever been. ‘I hope they remain like this‚’ he said holding them possessively.
‘What’ll happen if they don’t?’
‘Another baby, what else?’
‘You’ll get
‘I don’t want to look inside myself‚’ said Astha.
‘Well, I am learning a lot from him. Through him I understand the Gita, it is something I have wanted to do all my life.’
‘Really? How come I didn’t know?’
‘Where was the time or place to say I want this or that?’
‘And now you have a swami? Is that what you wanted time for?’
Astha’s mother looked offended. ‘Why don’t you come and see before you start your criticising?’
*
That evening Astha said to Hemant, ‘Ma has found some swami. She wants me to go to him and look inside myself.’
‘Rubbish. These people just try and sound clever.’
‘That is what I said.’
‘Who is this man?’
‘I don’t know.’
Hemant looked alert. ‘One has to be careful around swamis‚’ he said. ‘Thank God I am handling her money.’
‘I know‚’ said Astha, her wretchedness increasing. ‘But what can I do?’
‘Somebody is putting ideas into her head. People think old women are easy targets.’
‘She doesn’t listen.’
‘Don’t worry sweetheart, once we have a child, she will forget all this nonsense. There will be a new interest in her life.’
Astha smiled her agreement.
Loving Hemant as she did, Astha longed to get pregnant. During sex she imagined his seed spurting into her womb; later she would gather his wet shrivelled penis, adoring it strong, thick and hot, or wet, limp and woebegone. ‘I want to have your baby‚’ she would murmur.
‘You can’t be so old fashioned‚’ remonstrated the progressive husband. ‘This is like villagers, marry, impregnate wife, pack of children. No, no sweetheart, we need to be by ourselves. Time enough for these responsibilities later. With a young wife one can afford to wait.’
Astha looked at him in admiration. Everything about him was so masculine, his decisiveness, his hairy blunt fingers, his tall heavy set figure, his muscled limbs, his moustache that tickled, the bitter tobacco taste from his tongue.
‘These ideas are all from America‚’ said his parents, refusing to see the value of bonding time for the young couple. They had married, now they should get on with it.
*
It was two years before Hemant relented, two years before Astha could stop using birth control, two years before his seed found its home.
Astha and Hemant drove to Jangpura on their weekly visit, full of the good news.
‘Ma‚’ said Hemant, ‘You are going to be a nani.’
Tears filled the mother’s eyes. ‘If only he had been here‚’ she said.
Astha thought of her father and felt sad. He had sent her forth, and then left, duty done.
‘Ma, this is a time to celebrate‚’ reproached Hemant.
‘Beta, you are right. May it be a boy, and carry your name for ever. A great son of a great father.’
Astha thought her mother was overdoing it.
‘But Ma, I want a daughter‚’ said Hemant.
‘That’s true, Ma‚’ repeated Astha, ‘He wants a girl.’
‘In America there is no difference between boys and girls. How can this country get anywhere if we go on treating our women this way?’
There was no mistaking the admiration in both women’s eyes.
*
Astha enjoyed every aspect of her pregnancy. As it advanced, she became more and more bucolic. Teaching was an effort, and she had no energy for any extra activity. At home she slept most of the time.
Hemant adored what was happening to her. ‘My wife is becoming a woman before my very eyes‚’ he said passing his hands over her belly, large and full, over her breasts, certainly larger and fuller than they had ever been. ‘I hope they remain like this‚’ he said holding them possessively.
‘What’ll happen if they don’t?’
‘Another baby, what else?’
‘You’ll get
Similar Books
