We Two

My husband rang me from his office and said he wanted the house free this afternoon.  He suggested I should go out with the children and take the maid along.

“Our daughter has an exam ahead of her,” I said. “And right now you have to have sex?” 

“Umm…it’s anew girlfriend…she’s dying to see me.”

Returning from work, I went out with my two daughters and the maid. My elder daughter Anita is in eighth grade, at Sunbeams, while the younger one, Tanisha, is in KG-1, same school.

I did ask my husband, Imran: “Who the woman? How old is she? What does she do?”

“Let me keep that a secret for now. You don’t tell me anything about your lovers, do you?”

I said,” Well, remember Anita’s exams are coming up. We’re going to be back by eight.”

My two daughters play with the maid in the Gulshan Park. Even though Anita is in class eight, she is still quite childish. She snatches the Barbie from Tanisha. Tanisha starts to wail. I scold Anita and she gives the doll back to Tanisha.

I message my lover, Jewel, on my mobile phone:

All I want is for you to come
Close to me and kiss me to the core
Then you might know me
Like no other man
Has ever done before

I haven’t finished writing it when Anita comes up to me: “How can I play all by myself? Let’s go to Helvetia.” I say, “How can you be this grown up and still bother me so much? Go and play with Tanisha, I’ll take you there later.”

After I send the message to Jewel, the reply comes soon: Oh god, I am in a meeting! Calm down. I’ll call you back soon.

But if he’s in a meeting now how could he have messaged me? I ring him on the mobile and say, “I’m by myself now. If you were in a meeting how come you could send a message?”

He answers: “I stepped out for a smoke, and messaged you. I’ll call you later. The meeting will be over in half an hour or an hour. Don’t message me while I am in the meeting.”

We while away some more time in the park and then go over to Helvetia. Jewel calls me when we are there. Seeing his number on my cell, I get up from the table and step up from the fast food shop. I talk to him with my back to the shop so that Anita can’t see my face and make out that something is going on. I come back to the children at the table. My husband’s probably still busy unveiling his girlfriend’s beauty. Let him lead his own life, I say, and let me lead mine. He is an engineer, with the government, and I am with a transnational company. I have no idea how our immune systems got so crossed! As far as I know, it all started with some occasional, harmless flirting. Nowadays, however, we are realistic, and seldom poke our noses in each other’s affairs. Though in the beginning there was a lot of unhappiness, a lot of quarreling and fighting. I used to be suspicious of Imran, and he of me. We would fight, exchange blows. Now that we have a common grammar, we avoid all that whenever possible. I hardly feel a thing when I now hear about Imran’s new girlfriends.

Some nights when my husband is in a very good mood, he talks about his various girlfriends. They are of different ages. He has one girlfriend who is still a college student, while another one, the wife of a boss, is five years older than him.

“You’re dating a college girl,” I tell Imran. “Don’t you feel uneasy? Your own daughter will soon be in college.” He answers, “I didn’t force her to come to me. She came of her own free will. And she’s so sexy, you can’t even imagine.”

“And your boss’s wife?” I want to know. “The one who’s five or six years older than you?”

“You don’t know Lubna, she’s a sex crazed monster. You can’t imagine how nuts she is. She’s always buying me things, T-shirts, wallets, other staff.”

“Yes, I can guess that from seeing all your new T-shirts. But the woman should be in menopause, how can she be still sex crazy?”

“I don’t know”, says Imran. “Maybe she’s getting hormone treatments or something. She’s is abnormally hot…”

And then he would ask me, “what about your boyfriend? Is he also crazy for you? You are quite the sexy chick yourself.”

“I don’t know. He loves me, and that’s what I want.”

“This love thing is what I really hate. If you like someone, have sex with him, why mix it all up with love? Sex is like going t the gym for a workout, what’s love got to do with it?”

“Perhaps I‘m not as smart as you are. One lover is enough for me.”

“Okay. Tell me your lover’s name.”

“I don’t like giving out his name. He works in a foreign bank, you know that.”

“You should always meet him at our house. I’ll go out with the children. Men are very unreliable. You’ll never know if they’re taking videos of you. Very risky.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll ask for your help if I need it.” The fact is, Imran also loves me very much. Whenever he goes abroad on business he brings back expensive gifts for me. About six months ago when I had Typhoid, he sat by me throughout the nights, pouring water in my head and sponging my body. When he comes home from work, he helps the girls with their studies, trying to teach them good reading habits. As a father, I think he’s probably among the best in the world.

There was a time when we loved each other madly. After four or five years of marriage, after casually flirting with Jewel, Imran’s friend from their university days, I became involved with him. Seeing that I had become cold towards him, Imran guessed that I had fallen for someone. He became depressed. At that time, we used to fight a lot. I had fallen for somebody else, I didn’t pay him any attention – maybe that’s the reason he started chasing other women.

My lover Jewel too loves his wife a lot. When he lauds him wife in front of me I feel like sticking scotch tape over his mouth. Perhaps I too love Imran. When his colleagues praise him I feel good. I never buy pricey gifts for Jewel, but I buy them for my husband. If sometimes Imran spent the night out, I try t speculate where he could be. If mom, dad or my mother-in-law asks about him, I say he’s doing a late night at the office. Similarly, if I’m late some night, he cover’s for me. He tells everybody that I’m in a meeting. But later he’d ask me a lot of questions: “You had a date, right? Tell me about it. I won’t tell anyone. Come on, don’t I tell you everything?”

I’ve saved Jewel’s number in my cell name under ‘Irina’ because Anita often takes calls. One day when I was exchanging messages with Jewel, I ducked into the kitchen to check on the meet when Anita came up t me and said, “Ammu, someone wrote on your mobile ‘Bye, Jaan’ (dear).” I said “let’s see,” and took the mobile from her. “This Jaan means ‘go’. See, this is your Aunt Irina’s number. I was just having some fun with her. She’s my friend.” Afterwards I told her, “Anita, from now on please don’t read my messages.”

I often have to go to Delhi, Kuala Lampur, and may other places for business. Sometimes my boyfriend accompanies me. Imran may have guessed it. But he never says anything. In the beginning, I too agonized over Imran’s extra-marital affairs, but now I’m okay. I think “Imran, you graze as much as you like.” And when he confesses to everything I know that at least he’s not pretending. Yet, even then, fights do break out. I swear at him: “Bloody bustard; dating schoolgirls! Pervert!” Anita will run to me:”Ammu, the maidservant is listening, everyone will know.” My husband too sometimes lose his temper: “You bitch, you call me bastard after spending a whole month with somebody in Delhi?”

Then, after a couple of days, Imran will come to me and say he’s sorry. He’ll make me understand that we should be together for the sake of our children. But I’ll refuse to talk to him.

My daughters will try to make peace:”Ammu, please talk to abbu, he said he’s sorry.’

That night Imran takes us out to Khazana or Emmanuel’s for dinner. He buys us gifts.

After the quarreling ends Anita asks: “Ammu, why do you two use such ugly words when fighting? It sounds awful.” I reply:”Listen, people say all sorts of things when they’re angry. They don’t mean anything. I say them to make your dad angry, and he says them for the same reason. Put them out of your head, dear.”
On holidays, we go to Cox’s Bazaar. Before leaving I spend an evening with Jewel. In Cox’s Bazaar, we have a wonderful time. I love swimming in a tube amid the waves. If I go a bit too far out Tanisha and Anita start screaming: “Ammu, the waves will carry you away, please don’t go that far.” If I go even more further out Imran too will shout: “For God’s sake come back, don’t go out that far. There’s no need to show that kind of daring.” I pay no heed. I keep floating on the waves; sometimes they go over my head. It’s one of the most exciting things in the world for me. At one point, Imran will come running through the waves shouting:”Please don’t take that kind of a risk. If you die, I’ll have nothing left.” When I return he holds my hands in his and says: “I won’t let you go back in there. Never.”
I’m enchanted by all this. “I love you,” I say. “Me too” he cries out.

Imran and our daughters play in the knee-deep water. The setting sun light up their faces – with what delight these three children of the God sway in a sea-dance. After a while, I go a little distance from them, take out the cell phone from my bag and send a message to Jewel: Missing you a lot.   

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