THE GUILT

Ajit sat in front of the T.V. but he could not concentrate. His thoughts were far away. How could he have done that? He kept telling himself again and again. The gnawing guilt had returned since yesterday and was killing him. He felt his pajama pocket. The letter was there. It was not a bad dream after all. It was real. “Aho Prashad gyayla ya”,(come and partake of the offering) he heard his wife Sugandhi call out from the Pooja room.   . In his pre-occupation he had neither heard her ringing the ghanti (bell) nor offering the aarti to God.  He felt ashamed. He quietly walked to the Pooja room and went through the motions of folding his hands, prostrating before God and partaking of the sugar candy which was the Prashad.

He came back, took a seat in front of the T.V. and his mind once again started drifting. Presently, Sugandhi came along. She had tied up her hair neatly into a bun and had adorned it with a ‘mogra veni’(a string of jasmine flowers). She took out her mangalsutra which had hidden itself between her blouse and sari, adjusted it, and reverently touched the two vaatis in the pendant to her eyes, uttering a short prayer. As she did this, the green and gold bangles on her wrists brushed against each other making soft music, with a jingling sound. The sound of her glass bangles always fascinated him. He suddenly wanted to take her into his arms, but he suppressed the urge and continued to look blankly at the T.V. screen. Sugandhi was beautiful in an unsophisticated way. She was very fair, had a clear complexion and large brown eyes. She was also a little plump and hence looked matronly. They were a happy family. They had two children. Vinay, who was the older, was doing his M.B.A. in a prestigious institute after completing his engineering. His daughter Shweta was in the twelfth standard. Both children were intelligent, hardworking and had good moral values. He credited Sugandhi for their good upbringing. In fact he credited her with everything good that had happened to him. She had allowed him to freely concentrate on his career while she managed the domestic front single-handedly…the groceries, children’s homework, their illness, the electricity and other bills, unexpected guests, the repairs and maintenance et all. She was truly the Woman behind his success, so to say.  Otherwise how could he have risen from a Sales Officer to the General Manager of a large organization?

What a mess he had now put himself into? If only he had had enough self-control to restrain himself that fateful day… The thought came back to him with increased intensity.   ‘There is no redemption for what I have done’, he kept telling himself. ’Probably God will never excuse me’. The aroma of Poories and Potato bhaji wafted through the air. It was a welcome distraction. His wife came out of the kitchen with the ladle in her hand. ‘Are you not well? You look pale.’ She  said fussing over him, at the same time feeling his forehead with her soft palm to see if he had fever. “No, no, I am fine’, he said rather hastily. ‘The poories and the bhaji smell delicious’, he added. She looked pleased. ‘Today I am going to serve you only 5 poories’, she declared sternly, as a teacher does to a recalcitrant child.’ ‘You have started putting on weight around your belly’. So saying she  dug the ladle into his slightly protruding belly and then vanished back into the kitchen.

After his wife left, he rummaged his pajama pocket for the letter. He dare not read it in the living room. His wife might see it.. For the first time in his life, he felt like a thief in his own house. He had to be discreet. He was not going to jeopardize his family life. It was built carefully on trust. He had worked hard to bring laughter and happiness to his family. He would never allow it to crumble like nine pins. He was a respected man in the neighborhood. He didn’t want people to point fingers at him and say he maintained double standards. There was so much at stake.

He quickly went to the bathroom and took out the letter from the envelope. His hands trembled as he opened it. He had already read it several times before. In fact he had lost count of the number of times he had read it since the previous day. He decided to read it again. It said:

I would probably never have written this letter to you, had I not known that I was dying….dying of blood cancer. Remember the two days we spent together 18 years ago in Goa where we had both come to attend a conference representing our respective companies? I consider that as ‘destiny’. A few days after that, I discovered I was pregnant. My parents were appalled at the news. There was total mayhem at home. My mother threatened to commit suicide. My father told me I was a disgrace to the family. They wanted me to have the abortion. But I would not yield. I had only one alternative with me at that time. I couldn’t think of continuing to live in India , for I couldn’t escape the stigma of an unmarried woman bearing a child. I decided to take up an overseas assignment. My company was kind to offer me the assignment.  And thus I came to live for 15 long years in the U.S.  During those years I was able to provide Manoj with a normal childhood. He, on his part, has been brilliant both in academics and sports. And that is why he has now managed to secure a seat in the prestigious I.I.T. He would be joining IIT, Chennai this academic year. Meanwhile, in the years that followed after Manoj’s birth, my parents too relented and have since reconciled with me. In fact Manoj is now’ the apple of their eye’. Don’t worry, I haven’t revealed to anyone about you. I do not wish to, either. I have told Manoj that he is a’ lovechild’ and he is satisfied with the explanation. I never married since I did not much care about marriage. However I had always fancied an offspring and the wish was fulfilled by you. I am eternally grateful to you for giving me Manoj. I am not writing this letter for pity or for favors. As you know I belong to a wealthy family and money has never been an issue. It is only an impulse that has compelled me to share my secret with you. I shall never ever come in your way. I remain - Yours always – Seema.

He folded the letter and put it back in the envelope- his eyes were now misty with tears. This benign letter was tearing him apart. Had Seema slapped him, he would have felt better. He wondered why she had kept quiet about this all these years.  She really was a brave woman. And she wanted nothing from him, expected nothing. He had the uncomfortable feeling that perhaps she loved him.  Seema had been his classmate in school. Even in school he had often noticed her gaze  locked on him.  But he had not given it much thought. After schooling his father had got transferred and so he had completely lost touch with her until that fateful day in Goa . He remembered those two days very well. In fact it was firmly etched in his memory. And the guilt he had been carrying all along –the guilt of ‘infidelity’. That was the only time he had cheated on his wife. ‘Had he not made amends by being faithful to her all these years?’ he justified. After all one could not continue to live in the shadow of guilt forever. One had to move on in life. If he had committed a mistake, he had also suffered for it, atoned for the sin. It had taken a long time for him to excuse himself for the foolish act he had committed. It was  only recently that he had stopped being harsh on himself, - trying to get rid of the guilt feeling, and being able to dismiss the entire Goa episode as an act of passing infatuation. And now the letter--its disclosure- the fact that that he had actually sired Seema’s son sent a chill down his spine …how does one deal with such a situation? He did not know….his own flesh and blood had taken shape and was living somewhere unknown to him…. had been living all these years. He thought of his other two children, how he had watched them grow up, how proud he was of them.  And this poor boy – what was his name? Manoj - he recollected…he remembered having seen a Hindi movie with a similar theme. In the movie the husband had taken the child back home to his wife and she had accepted him albeit later. For a moment he thought he would do the same thing. Take Manoj home and shower him with love. But that was in movies. His wife would never accept, he knew. Anyway he was unwilling to take the risk. What if his wife took the extreme step of ending her life? He shuddered at the thought. He couldn’t imagine his family disintegrating.  Suddenly he thought of his mother. He wanted to lie on her lap and become oblivious to everything around. Not even in his wildest imagination had he imagined that the repercussions of what happened 18 years ago would surface again like a colossus. That day in Goa …so long ago yet he remembered vividly…. How happy he was to see Seema, a familiar face in unfamiliar surroundings….and that too she was his old classmate.  Soon he felt completely at ease with her and found himself enjoying her company. But there was something strange about her. She looked so lovely yet so forlorn, and so lonely. Her eyes…her delicate frame…yes, it was her eyes…there was something about those eyes...he remembered now … they were beseeching... imploring him, almost begging him to pity her… take notice of her… so it was not entirely his fault… she had seduced him…in fact it was not his fault at all…he was not the type who would easily yield to another woman.  Besides, how could he look straight in Sugandhi’s eye after deceiving her? Yet he had done that, just once, but nevertheless, done it. Oh what a cruel man he had been!   And now Seema...he must have surely caused her unhappiness too. And she was dying. Reason told him that he should go and visit her. She lived in Bangalore . Her address was there clear and bold on the envelope, and even the telephone number. Had she written the address with the hope that he will visit her? He should at least phone her. He owed it to her. But he couldn’t bear to hear her voice. It would haunt him for the rest of his life. Moreover, he couldn’t trust himself. After hearing her on the phone, he might even agree to visit her. This would complicate matters.

He heard his wife telling him that lunch was served. He quickly put the letter back into his pocket, rubbed the traces of sweat from his forehead and sat down for lunch. But he had no appetite.

                                                *********

The next day while he was still debating with himself about whether or not to phone Seema, he heard the servant maid telling Sugandhi in Marathi – ‘There was some paper in Saheb’s pajama pocket. It had got completely soaked. So I threw it away. Hope it is not important.’ His wife was about to scold her for being so careless when Ajit heard his own voice saying ‘Not at all, nothing important.’   ‘Thank God’ said Sugandhi  with relief.